I’m not well-versed in what makes a good pizza, so it’s hard for me to determine anything; besides, while I want to be a food critic and am continually tuning up my abilities to critique, compare, and contrast, I’m also of the mindset that perhaps, there’s a time and place for everything. Domino’s ranks very low on my pizza totem pole, but I don’t consider it inedible, and I’ll have a slice or two if that’s what’s available. I guess what I’m trying to say is that while I have a taste for the finer things, I’m content, every once and a while, to settle on the more mediocre things because, well, sometimes they’re necessary.
Perhaps that’s a strange preface to a post in which I sing praises, but I wanted to first establish that pizza spans an exceptionally wide spectrum from good to bad, which makes it really difficult to judge, particularly when you take into account the endless variety of preferences: thin crust or thick crust? sweet white or big honey wheat? tomato sauce, olive oil, pesto…? So many decisions to be made! And a lot of them change with one’s mood. But me, often prefer the thin, bubbling crust of Slice’s pizza to thicker, heavier slices. Even if it’s a bit gentrified in its relative organization, the lightness of a plain white sauce with traditional toppings – basil, mozzarella, tomato; nothing new – is a delight to me, and I find the classic flavor combination is better conveyed via Slice’s crispy-bottomed cornmeal-dusted white crust than it is anywhere else I’ve tried it. As innovative special pizzas go, there’s not a HUGE selection, but for me personally, the combo of crust/sauce/toppings is the answer to my prayers (at least until my tummy wants the more filling Theo’s or Reginelli’s…).
Ribbons of just-cut basil decorate the top of the pizza like confetti, their pieces easily bite-sized but their aesthetic value not compromised – the crisp green is very much still present, just in a way that lends itself a bit more to gnawing on a giant, flimsy slice.
Juicy cuts of tomato hastily hide under whatever basil they can muster in a vain attempt at modesty. I am not fooled. My one complaint would be that the tomatoes weren’t as fresh and seductively, potently sweet as I’ve tasted elsewhere; the vaguely pinkish tint hints at that. But as a topping on an otherwise fine slice of pizza that doesn’t actually make you feel like you’re 20 pounds heavier, that’s something I can forgive.
