As a kid growing up in California, my relationship to pizza was simple. Every time we won a soccer game, we were rewarded. This always put pizza into this mystical realm—an achievable reward for a job well done. We always entered the pizza parlor with excitement and glory. Those happy memories of pizza resonate in youthful nostalgia.
When I moved to New York 25 years ago, I found a new relationship with pizza. I was young and broke, a slice was under $2. It was on nearly every corner. It was a slice before going out, a slice after a long shift at the bar, and very often a cold leftover slice in the morning. New York made it easy to make that once illustrious trophy into 50% of my diet.
For years I was happy with the closest and most convenient slice shop, but over time you start to develop favorites. This one’s too sweet; that one’s always undercooked. I loved the fast-paced, no-bullshit vibe in a slice shop—no room for pleasantries, get your shit and get out. I had spots in my neighborhood of Fort Greene and my after-work spots in the East Village and Lower East Side. Spots I probably never entered sober. Then came the next chapter.
I remember the first time I went to Grimaldi’s—it was different. The craft was taken seriously. It was another level, and then Di Fara and L&B. I loved Arturo’s—it felt like a scene out of a Billy Joel song. These places were classics, the height of pizza making. They represented New York’s dominance in the field. They were the gold standard. When we opened Roberta's in 2008, we didn’t try to be any of these places. What we took from them was simple: be yourself and let the pizza be a piece of you.
We saw the style through our own point of view—respecting the fundamentals but expressing ourselves in the style. We had crazy toppings, crazy names, and an atmosphere more CBGB than Billy Joel. This changed what a pizza place could be. No longer did you need to have a red checkered tablecloth or green, white, and red awning. Pizza was now open and free for expression. Now we have the Tokyo pinch, Michelin-starred chefs creating New York-style slices, Asian-inspired toppings, artisanal stuffed crust. We opened a door and for better or for worse, we will never be able to shut it. Where does it go from here?
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared on Brandon Hoy's substack.
