El Greco, 2nd & Jefferson, Phila.

El Greco is a neighborhood shop, and it's just a few blocks from my workshop. I stop by every once in a while, and it's an experience.

Today, as usual, there were a bunch of people inside. Three behind the small (but tall) counter, a driver or two outside, and three or four customers in the long, narrow area inside. I order two slices, which are put in a box. (A bit of a downer for me - what, they don't want me eating in front of the shop? Put it on a plate, please...) I go outside and stand by my bike and eat them - warm, gooey, and very sweet. The cheese is thick and chewy, the crust is soft and light, and the sauce is sugary and squirmy.

The slices are floppy - they fold, and don't crease - and drip red-orange oil as I squeeze the fluffy crust to keep the whole package together. The first bite requires me to hold the crust side above the rest of the slice, so that it doesn't unfold and go limp. Eating the slices produces a texture that resembles, almost, mollusks. As I stand there eating, I observe the scene. A tall, gaunt man sits on the stoop, then stands and mills around the storefront, smoking a cigarette. Three customers who came out of the shop just as I was entering sit on a stoop next door eating their slices and talking. The traffic on 2nd St. whizzes by, passing the small community at Jefferson - the slice shop, an auto tag store and a barbershop.

I like El Greco in a way. It's not exactly gourmet, but talking about the quality of the food misses the point of the business. It isn't quality - some might go so far to argue that it's hardly pizza. Either way, it's food, it's part of a neighborhood. And sometimes that's all you need.

Rustica, 2nd and Poplar Philadelphia

After I first went to Rustica, I returned almost every day for about two weeks. Part of that, now, is that I was working about a 5 minute bike ride away - but on that ride I passed two other pizza places, so it wasn't just about proximity. I think Rustica is top notch, and I look forward to going there every time.

Rustica offers a bunch of different specialty pies (which you can buy slices of at the counter), and interesting ones. I especially like the 4 Gusti (red pie with mushrooms, artichokes, proscuitto and black olives), Old Smokey (a salty red pie with pancetta, smoked mozzarella and oregano), The Mighty Brussel (white pie with roasted brussel sprouts and caramelized onions) and the Bisteca del Tartufo (a white pie with truffled steak and caramelized onions). They also regularly make Sicilian pies, which are delicious and somewhat of a rare treat.

All of their pies, though, are cooked in their wonderfully hot oven for a delightfully crispy crust and slightly browned toppings, which I love. They also proudly advertise their use of imported Italian meats & cheeses from Claudio's in the Italian Market, which I'm down with.

I often find myself putting on rain gear just to bike down to Rustica for lunch. They're always friendly to me and are usually playing some jovial, relaxing Mexican music. I love it.

I've said too much, and yet too little. Oh well. Here are a few pictures.

Beautiful.

City Pizza, Front & Snyder

I was heading down to Best Buy to pick up an answering machine when I caught a big staple right in my rear tire (frustratingly; I had spent the morning waiting for this brand new set of tires to arrive, and hadn't ridden a mile and a half before this first flat). Ok, I say, it's a good chance to sit down and check out the neighborhood.

The first thing I do is get off Columbus Blvd. and walk over to Front, which is really a different world. I sit down on the curb in front of a convenient store and fix the flat, and then mosey down a block to Snyder, where I find City Pizza.



I order two slices and a coke, and stand outside on the corner and eat. The crust is sweet and flavorful - very tasty - with a good crispy texture and a chewy crumb. There's little stratification between the crust and the cheese, which is fine but not spectacular. The slices are relatively dry, and drip almost no oil.

The corner is nice. It's the middle of the afternoon, warm but not hot. I ride on.

Mack's Boardwalk Pizza, 10th & Oregon Philadelphia

So I'm biking down Oregon Ave, heading east towards the UPS location and remembering that I hadn't had breakfast yet. It's a beautiful day - a real summer day, in the middle of April - and I'm excited to be outside. Then boom, there it is - Mack's Boardwalk Pizza. I know I have to stop.

This guy is obviously proud to be doing what he's doing. The shop is tiny, but has a little seating area outside. It looks like they might do more sandwiches than anything else, but I'm determined, as always, to get slices. Two plain, and a coke: $3. The guy is sitting there, behind the counter, watching some sort of documentary on WWII, but he seems like he's having a fine time and makes a few remarks about the weather. It feels like summer, and both of us are in the mood. There are only two of us in the shop; the street, everything outside, is alive and in motion .

I sit outside. The slices are crispy underneath, and the crust is a little dense - it creases as I fold the slices. The cheese has a sharper flavor than I'm used to, and the tomato sauce shines through in places. The slices are well delineated, with a dry crust and patches of cheese floating in a mushy tomato sea. They leak little oil.

I finish my meal and throw my trash out inside. As I'm walking out the door, the proprietor asks (almost as an afterthought), "how was it?"

I tell him it was exactly what I was looking for.