Long before Kesté opened to great reviews and pizza fanfare, there was a modest little pizza joint down the street that specialized in wood oven pizzas. Their sign reads “The Original Brick Oven” referring to the wood ovens that were used before Genaro Lombardi was forced into cooking his pizzas with coals. And they were the first neighbor to challenge John’s of Bleecker‘s coal oven pizzas with traditional Neapolitan style pies.
The place is called No. 28 (referring to their address on Carmine Street) and they’re still there serving the same traditional pizza. Even though they are currently expanding to the east side, I feel like they have gotten slightly lost in the shadow of the more popular Kesté, Company, and Motorino. But there they stand, their bright yellow awning announcing themselves to the world (or to Carmine Street, at the least).
I have walked by this place many times, but figured now, before my pizza journey settles down, I’ll have to give the original West Village Neapolitan pioneers a chance.
So I arrived on a weekday lunch rather early and the awkward Italian waiter looked confused to see me. Was I in the wrong place? Or maybe he recognized me from my web series and was nervous about what I might say about his pizza. He was an awkward, but interesting fellow – sort of a cross between Roberto Benigni, a young Jerry Lewis, and Ben Gibbard (the lead singer of indie rock band Death Cab For Cutie). I wanted to stare at him for a character study, but since I was the only other person in the place, I didn’t want to freak him out.
But his lack of attention sort of freaked me out. He was completely apathetic and seemed to forget at times that I was even there. He had a loud conversation on his phone about some apartment he was trying to rent out. He placed a pitcher of water down for me and an empty glass. I guess I’ll pour it myself. Should I put in my order and cook my own pizza too? I mean, what am I supposed to tip this guy for? I don’t mind that he spent most of the service on the internet, but at least pour me some friggin’ water!!!
The positives were the delicious aroma invading the air. And the exposed brick and rustic ambiance was pleasant. So points for decor, but nothing for lazy service.
But it really is all about the pizza, isn’t it? I ordered the Margherita Reginella in the smallest pie that they had – 14 inches! Now I was by myself and this was way too much for me. I’ve been eating a lot of pizza, so I’ve learned to show a little restraint.
The pie was cut into four rather fat slices, which somehow made it harder to resist. That and the fact that this Neapolitan pizza was pretty tasty. The crust is not as pillow-y as the Kesté version but it was both chewy and crunchy. The tomato sauce had a lot of flavor with the right balance of acidity and sweetness.
The fresh buffalo mozzarella was creamy and soft, but did make the pizza a little wet causing a pizza puddle to spill onto my plate. The added oil also seemed to separate with the water and the slices ended up quite messy.
But it’s clear they use all the right ingredients (buffalo mozzarella, San Marzano tomatoes, fresh basil) because this pizza tasted really good. I was especially impressed with their tomato sauce. I don’t think the pizzas are quite as good (or inventive) as Kesté, but it seems like Apathetic Italian Waiter and his friends have kept the tradition alive in a comfortable alternative to the big pizza boys down the street. Just be prepared to pour your own water.
Is No. 28 the best pizza in NY? 8 out of 10 is the most I can give this place because of the really lazy service and it almost seemed like they didn’t care. But the rating is as high as it is because though the pizza is not the best Neapolitan in the city (or on the street), it’s well-cooked with fresh ingredients and a delicious pizza experience.
Glad you liked it!