New Haven’s Best Apizza, Pie By Pie

Frank Pepe’s Yonkers location just recently opened so in honor of New Haven-style pizza coming to New York, we’re sharing our recent experience of trying New Haven’s three most well-known pizzerias on one day during a pizza club outing organized by pizza blogger, Jason Feirman of I Dream of Pizza.

FRANK PEPE’S (est. 1925, coal-fired brick oven)

Top, a slice from a Tomato Pie with Shrimp. From left, Tomato Pie with Mozzarella and Fresh Roasted Red Peppers, Large Clam Pie, and “The Original Tomato Pie with Mozzarella.”

The expedition began at Frank Pepe’s. As a barometer we retried The Original Tomato Pie with Mozzarella. It’s closer in style to a John’s of Bleecker cheese pie, but thinner, with less cheese. Clam Pie? Fantastic as ever. A Tomato Pie with Mozzarella and Fresh Roasted Red Peppers was inoffensive and unspectacular.

While less epic than lobster, the dark horse is the Tomato Pie with Shrimp. Juicy. Supple. What is it with Pepe’s seafood toppings? Damn, they’re fresh. First-timers: forget everything else, it’s about White Clam Pie with Bacon, and Tomato Pie with Shrimp. The next power move? White pie, clam, bacon, and shrimp.

SALLY’S APIZZA (est. 1938, coal-fired brick oven)

Top, Plain Tomato Sauce with Parmesan. From left, Medium Onion & Bacon, Medium Mozzarella, Medium White Zucchini Pie With Tomatoes and Onions.

The line outside Pepe’s is bad, but the wait inside the lovingly dingy Sally’s Apizza once you’re seated is worse. It’s not the machine that is Pepe’s. Once inside, there was an hour wait before anything reached the table save an enticing smell.

Sally’s cheese pie is thicker than Pepe’s—there’s more sauce and cheese (they reach the crust’s height). But the slice still has structural integrity— no flop. Both crust and cheese have significant leopard-spotting, but the edges veer close to being burnt. White Zucchini Pie With Tomatoes and Onions? A misorder.

As the waiter said, “If you want clam pie, go to Frank Pepe’s.” It’s not the thing to get here. If you’re interested in toppings get the Onion and Bacon pie— it’s Sally’s second best.

Sally’s top honors go to the Plain Tomato Sauce with Parmesan. It’s one of those situations where there’s nothing to hide. If the crust or the sauce stinks, failure is abject and obvious. While other pies in New Haven rely on toppings, here things are simple and good. There’s just sauce: sweet, garlicky and a little salty, and at the perfect ratio to crust. Not a sauce-drenched crust, but enough to ensure each bite goes down wet and easy. The next power move at Sally’s? Hot Cherry Peppers.

MODERN APIZZA (est. 1934, gas-heated brick oven)

Top, Medium Italian Bomb. Bottom left, Half-Mozzarella Apizza, Half-Mushroom. Right, Mozzarella Apizza with Pepperoni.

Ask several New Havenites about pizza and it’s likely they’ll say they eschew Pepe’s and Sally’s in favor of Modern Apizza. To that we say, “You clearly have line rage from waiting at the other two places.” Yes, lines at Pepe’s and Sally’s are annoying. But Modern isn’t a solution. The atmosphere is great: wood paneling, friendly servers, clean feeling. But it’s about the pizza, and if Sally’s was the example of simplicity, these pies are overloaded and can’t hold up to their toppings. There’s absolutely no structural integrity— total hold-up-the-slice-and-watch-it-flop situation.

Modern’s Mozzarella Apizza is a waste of time. The bottom is soggy. The edges are burnt. The Pepperoni Pie features cheese that resembles the kind that melts over onto the pan and gets bubbly and hard. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s not quite right either. Not to say that reconstitution should be the bar by which pizza should ultimately be judged, but it should be noted that after a few hours, Modern’s pizza totally expires. Whereas you can take leftover Pepe’s with you for later or freeze it and bring it back quite well in the toaster, with Modern it’s hard to believe the pizza had been fresh just hours before.

If you do end up at Modern, many claim the move is the Italian Bomb: Bacon, Sausage, Pepperoni, Garlic, Mushroom, Onion and Pepper. Again, structurally unsound. But, the idea goes, if you’re a meat-lover and your pie can’t even hold up to cheese, get some tasty toppings, and do your best fold job or knife and fork it. Still, we’ll inevitably return for: the American Cheese Pie, the Crabmeat Pie, and Clams Casino Pie.

Undercarriages from left to right: Frank Pepe, Sally’s, and Modern.

After repeated visits, we’ve reached some conclusions. First of all, to I Dream of Pizza, (Jason’s three-part series: Frank Pepe’s, Sally’s, Modern) we’d say with a wink, New York City is not “the pizza capital of the world,” technically that’s Old Forge, Pennsylvania.

In all seriousness, those who say New Haven’s pizza is better than New York City’s are wrong. Claims that New York’s classic pies are so far above New Haven’s are also wrong—“case in point, clam pie”:http://www.alwayshungryny.com/thought-for-food/entry/alwaystraveling-frank-pepes-clam-pizza-new-haven-ct/. Pepe’s is better than any rendition in New York City. Period. New York City has plenty of bad pizza, plenty of hyped pizza (Franny’s, La Pizza Fresca, and Co.).

At the end of the day, we’d take the experience of waiting and eating Pepe’s clam pie or Sally’s Plain Tomato Sauce with Parmesan over the experience of eating at Grimaldi’s (“eh”) and say they’re just as worthwhile as the experience of Di Fara (which isn’t always on point). After all, as good as the best of these are, none hold a candle to Da Michele anyway.