I washed up at Joe’s Pizza for the first time four years ago, after I’d been suckered into going to Misshapes. (As we pushed into the party and I saw a barely-twenty-year-old girl with Weimar-era makeup and a sculptural Isabella Blow-ish hat/mask covering half her face I understood why the doorman had looked at our outfits and pronounced us tragic). The thing about feeling ridiculously old and unfashionable at 25 is that you still have the stamina to drink and dance all night, or at least until you feel start feeling pretty good. Still, certain worries edge this pleasant little mood you’ve blundered into–it’s so late, I’m so hungry, everything is closed, I’m so hungry, where the hell am I going to eat?
Joe’s Pizza at 4 am glows like a molten cheese bubble in the strange afterhours dark of the closed-down city. A glittering, laughing, sweating, exhausted cross-section of nightlife clings to this oasis, and spills onto the waiting sidewalk, held upright by booze and the smell of baking pizza. Unlike pizzeria of the moment, Artichoke, whose counter people serve with a slowness that seems lackadaisical or sadistic, depending on how hungry you are, the service at Joe’s is brisk. Orders are asked with a glance as a fresh pie is spun into slices that are scooped, drooping onto paper plates exchanged for cash–fast, fast, fast. If you’re lucky enough to snag a fresh mozzarella slice right from the oven ($2.75), go for it. The regular slice ($2.50) is good too, with sweet tomato sauce, the right balance of cheese and a thin, chewy crust that’s got a teeny bit of burnt crispness. The crust, however does not hold up for long, so the slices are best eaten HOT and immediately–and if you happen in at a slower time, it’s worth the wait for a fresh pie. There’s little to no seating to be had, but there’s benches in Father Demo Park across the street.
Since that evening Joe’s has been my go-to spot when I’m in the area at some unseemly hour, looking for a little comfort at the tail-end of a long night.
Joe’s Pizza 7 Carmine Street Open every day 9 am – 5 am
Artichoke Slice. The button on my jeans strains and my heart gives a little grease-choked shudder at the mere memory of taking that first bite. Imagine a decadently creamy alfredo sauce, spread over a sturdy browned crust of uneven thickness, but abundantly puffy around the edges, and generously topped with spinach, mozzarella and artichoke. This is not a bland, plasticky “white pie.” It is more the good bits of your favorite cheesy pasta dish heaped together on an enormous wedge of crust. I am usually a two-slice girl, but one of these, for a mere $3, knocked me on my ass.
But the wait, oh the wait! You cannot just wander up to a takeout window and procure an artichoke slice. The near-constant line at now two-month old Artichoke Basille does not move any faster since my first visit two weeks ago. Tonight, I waited anywhere between half and hour and an hour (my phone died), and everyone standing in the line wanted artichoke slices (the guy in front of me snatched up three, of course). Of the three menu items I’ve sampled, including the neapolitan and sicilian slices, the artichoke slice is the one worth waiting for, although the other two are very tasty–I actually like the rustic and crunchy sicilian a bit more than the gloppy neapolitan.
The line WILL move though–inch by maddening inch–so bring your homework, cellphone, sunscreen, reading material, flask, cuddle buddy, water bottle, ipod, sketchbook, portable folding chair, or whatever else you’ll need in the meantime… it will be worth it.
Artichoke Basille 328 14th st. between First and Second Avenue
noonish til sometime after midnight – try calling ahead for hours and pies
Count on half hour wait for slices, at least.
Slices a New Yorker can love have arrived in the East Village at last. The lack of decent pizza slices in my hood has been a long-standing gripe of mine, so I’ve been eyeing Artichoke Basille, and the line snaking out its door, since it opened about a month ago. Although I usually avoid excruciating hype-fueled waits, I figured I’d should finally bite the bullet and get in the queue.
Twenty-six minutes, three rounds of phone tetris, and two passers-by wanting to know what the fuss was about later, I emerged bearing two slices. Since all that was left were a couple lonely squares of Sicilian when I got to the front of the line, that’s what I must base my review on. The short version: they were awesome.
I consider the make-or-break ingredient for stand-out pizza to be the sauce, and here it is tangy, sweet but not too sweet, and liberally glopped on. Topping the sauce is a mix of fresh mozzarella and grated Parmesean, with processed mozzarella pulling it all together and adding a firming crust, reminiscent of now-closed DeMarco‘s pizza squares. The crust is just thick enough to hold up while maintaining its crunch, with a pleasant char around the edges, and a pan-grease veneer on the bottom that drives the indulgence all the way home to your belly. Pizza nerds will quibble about how Artichoke stacks up to Brooklyn institution DiFara; but this is hands-down the best $2.50 takeout slice in the hood.
I wish I could’ve sampled more from the kitchen but they seemed to be stretched a bit thin, swiftly churning out pies to serve the deepening crowd (and I was informed by a guy in line that his full pie required an hour and a half wait–AFTER he got to the front). According to nymag, Artichoke’s menu includes Neapolitan pizza, heros, cauliflower fritters, and a Keith Richards-approved artichoke-and-spinach pizza. I don’t foresee the wait shortening, but I imagine I’ll do a little more research on this place. In the words of the immortal Faith No More, it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.
Artichoke Basille 328 14th st. between First and Second Avenue
noonish til sometime after midnight – no seating, about a half hour wait for slices; no delivery yet (the counterperson says they’ll start delivering in a couple weeks), but try calling ahead if you’re ordering a full pie – 212-228-2004.
The pizza at Alligator Lounge is an unexplainable phenomenon of budget snacking. I can’t quite figure out how it’s free. Well, it’s not exactly free–you must purchase one drink, at about $5 a pop, to get a free pizza ticket. If you want toppings, it’ll be $2 for the first and $1 for each additional. But assuming you don’t, in about ten minutes you’ll have a piping-hot 12-inch pie to accompany your beer at a cost of zero dollars (except possibly a tip for your pizza guy).
How is it possible? Because the pizza actually isn’t terrible. True, it tastes better after several beers. And you might want to blot the grease with several napkins and go heavy on the crushed red pepper and oregano to give it some extra taste. Better yet, you might want to carry along your own personal pizza spice-rack for just this situation. But if you spice it up just right and be sure to eat it fast before the cheese congeals–this is the miracle of which I speak.
The kitschy-tropical ambiance is bearable, to a point: potted palms and bamboo shades, flamingos and rainbow lights, a decent digital jukebox, pool table, and inevitably, crowds. Alligator lounge may not be the main attraction for your night, but it’s a good late-night hunger fix (open until 3:30 am), or a place to get the party started before moving on to some serious drinking at Spuyten Duyvil.
If you don’t feel like hopping the L, there’s even an East Village outpost. And if you can handle two pizzas, you get another free one with your second drink.
Brooklyn: Alligator Lounge, 600 Metropolitan Ave. at Lorimer St. Open Daily 3pm-4am
East Village: Crocodile Lounge 325 E 14th St. at First Avenue Open Daily 12pm-4am
A hole-in-the-wall pizza chain with locations on the North AND South sides of 23rd Street (like an interstate McDonald’s), and unconvincingly slaps “Gourmet” on its signage, Brick Oven happens to have a decent margherita slice ($3.25). Don’t be tricked by the three-dollar price point into ordering the merely above-average regular slice ($2.25). The margherita really shows off their tangy tomato sauce, which is topped with a daubs of melted fresh mozzarella, instead of buried under processed cheese. My slices came with a subtle top-layer of grease, and the thin crust is easily folded in half. My only gripes would be that a little more char on the crust would serve this slice well, and the seating, of course, is limited. But then standing around and eating pizza is an essential NY skill.
If you’re anywhere near the West Fourth subway, definitely still head to Joe’s Pizza, but Brick Oven’s a good standby further uptown. They’ve just opened a spotless, heavily windowed location at the people-watching extravaganza that is the corner of 14th St. and 6th Avenue, so I’m guessing we’ll be seeing a few more blue Brick Oven awnings popping up around town.
Brick Oven 33 – 527 6th Ave at 14th St., 268 W 23rd St. at 8th Ave, 171 W 23rd St. at 7th Ave, and 489 3rd Ave. at 33rd St.