Eat At Joe’s
When I was a young man living in New York City, I lived about three blocks from the best pizza in the world. You don’t have to take my word for it; Joe’s Pizza – at the time on the corner of Bleeker and Carmine, now a few doors north at 7 Carmine – has long been called the best by many. It appeared in another smarmy GQ article on the subject just a few months ago. It is considered the real deal in a world of Famous Ray’s and The Original Famous Ray’s and The True Original Famous Ray’s. The sauce of this pie is so particular, when you get to the crust end of the slice and are only getting bread and sauce it doesn’t taste quite right. What I mean is, the sauce is the perfect compliment to sauce and cheese. If one is missing, the balance is off.
So you understand it is with a very high standard that I enter a place like “Za” – 801 Broadripple Avenue – the new home of “New York Style” pizza in my town. The storefront is the right demeanor for this kind of pie and the hours clearly cater to the drunk nightclub scene (open to 4am Wednesday through Saturday); lunch only one weekend day. The demeanor of the guys behind the counter seem to fit as well. Friendly, but more interested in business than anything else.
I had to get “a slice” (that’s cheese only) and something called “A Slice Of Goodness” (red and green peppers, red onions, prosciutto in addition to the sauce and mozz). The slices are big enough to fold in half and you can always get cheese, peperoni and whatever the special of the day is. I visited during the week and the place seemed a bit slow (I drew the employees inside from a break with my arrival). This leads to the reheated pizza slice, which is commonplace around the world I suppose. The danger, of course, is ending up with the “mall slice.” That is, the slice that has been sitting in the window for around three hours and now is getting heated through, much to the dismay of the crust, in particular. This crust held up well, the reheating adding just the right bite. I don’t know how long ago the slice had been fresh, but it was the last one of it’s kind. Za is keeping their pies in a warming oven, not just under glass at the counter. I suppose this means the heating was just to crisp the crust, but I couldn’t really tell the difference. The sauce is excellent, subtle and fresh tasting. The peppers stood out as the freshest flavor, as I would expect at this time of year. The menu said prosciutto was featured, but it was hard to find. I dug around to look and found a few shavings, certainly not enough to provide a flash of flavor I expected. The whole thing goes down fast, easy and filling. And I was sober.
Twenty years is a long time, but I remember being able to poke around my college digs and drop $2.10 on the counter for my “slice and a coke” at Joe’s. I was just back there in August of this year and the price had increased, to a mere $4.25. Joe’s is a world famous dive, residing in some of the most expensive commercial real estate in the world, and I can get a lunch for four-and-a-quarter. Why, then, must I feel ripped off being charged $4 for just the slice in little ole’ Indy? (Okay, the chalkboard says $3.50, but the to-go menu says $4.50. I split the difference.) Add a second piece and a drink and I’m almost to $10. What this world needs is a good meal under $4 and a pizza joint should be able to pull this off!
For starters, let’s bring back the small fountain drink. I guess if you handed a 12 ounce cup to a guy in the Midwest he might punch you in the jaw for insulting his masculinity. But if you only charged him $0.45 for the thing he might not. I worked in food service once. I know the margin on those soft drinks (astronomical, in case you didn’t know) is supposed to be the bread and butter. But the restaurant business has become greedy. $1.50 for 24 ounces at Za is reasonable compared to other places, but still absurd. Hey, Joe’s doesn’t provide the fountain out front for refills, either. But nobody complains when they get change back from a $5 bill. And when your main product is pizza, where the margins are already crazy high, you should be looking for ways to get people to talk about your store. Sure, the pizza is good – maybe worthy of comparison to the best pizza in the world even if it can’t possibly measure up – but if you want to make friends in Broadripple Village, I suggest you open for lunch, drop the prices in half and start cranking out those pizzas so fast they can’t possibly need more than the slightest toasting when ordered.
Of course, this is America. There are (drunk) suckers born every minute. And plenty of P.T. Barnums to take advantage of them.
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