Colangelo’s Pasta & Pizza - Pepperoni Slice Review

Months ago my Uncle Don told me he found a new love. A new favorite pizza in town. His pizza taste is peculiar for a Pittsburgher. Instead of going to Mineo’s or Aiello’s he opts for Pizza Napoli. He isn’t a fan of sloppy pies, but prefers a nice square pizza. so when he began to tell me about Colangelos in the Strip District I knew it had to be something unique.

On New Year’s Eve, in the midst of a pandemic he, dropped off a few slices for me and the family to enjoy. A perfect meal as a precursor to our solitary NYE antics. He texted me updates as the pizza he chose from their pizza window went through the steps.

“Got you and Christa some slices.”

“Currently in oven. Be there in 10”

Colangelos is a from-scratch Italian bakery that has a window of croissants, pizza and other Italian delicacies up for grabs. They also have a host of pasta, sides and really anything you would need to satisfy your cravings. Today, we’ll be focusing on their pizza.

The box he delivered was hefty, filled with six large quadrants of pepperoni pizza. It was droopy, soggy and collectively dense, a pizza quagmire. An environment that is inescapable as the gravity of the cheese and grease combine to pull you into its maw.

But this is merely an illusion, because while it looks a gloopy hot mess, there’s a complex structure supporting the plains of cheese and sauce. While slices flip and flop gently back and forth like a flag in a gentle swirling wind, when you bite into the dough there’s a surprising crunch. 

It’s also expertly soft. Almost like a pastry dough, but thicker and not very sweet. The thickness isn’t close to the Detroit-style pies, but a hybrid of the classic New York slices and a Sicilian. 

There’s a very stark divide between where the crust ends and the base of the pizza begins. Two pizza universes neighboring each other with a border between. But when you get a bite that is equal parts crust and body, with cheese and a bit of a pepperoni, both universes are united as one. A utopia where each section of the pizza fits perfectly with the other. 

The pepperoni was perfectly greasy and added the right amount of zest to complement its cohorts, the sauce and cheese. I typically stay away from pepperoni since the extra grease can be off putting, but here it works. I think it’s because the soft dough absorbs that grease and blends it in with the body of the pizza, instead of letting it pool on the cheese. 

After crushing two slices, I was more than satisfied and stunned at the swirling flavors of the pizza packed into these rectangles. I put the remaining pieces in the fridge and eagerly awaited the opportunity to heat them up the following afternoon. 

The next day the pizza had evolved slightly. Some of the softness evaporated from the dough, replaced with a crunchier texture. Not a bad thing, but these slices are best eaten as fresh as possible. Still, these slices satisfied and I look forward to getting some of these fresh from the bakery itself.

I recently had the “pleasure” of visiting Roland’s in the Strip. This is face, the face I’m making at that pizza, is usually the last thing any pizza sees before meeting its maker. It’s the “I’m going to eat this whole pizza in one sitting” face.

The pizza of Roland’s must have sensed that doom was following it out of the oven and deployed a self-defense mechanism: awfulness. Thanks to some miserable sauce, soggy cheese, and a floppy crust this pizza fought me away. Like a wolf biting a porcupine, I had to turn tail and flee from my prey.

The only edible portion of this pizza were certain spots of the crust. I carefully tore off the crust like I was opening up a valuable envelope. A pull in the wrong direction and I’d have spoiled my dinner with some of that candy sweet sauce and flat as paper cheese.

This pizza made me crave texture. It flopped down my throat like I was swallowing a dead fish whole. Which is too bad because it looks nice. The roasted red peppers are spread throughout and the cheese covers the dough like a blanket on a freshly made bed. But looks can be deceiving. 

I’d stick to the fish at Roland’s.