Artichoke Pizza

No, not a pizza with artichokes (though that too) but Artichoke Pizzeria, the newest entry into the New York city-wide pizza wars. Artichoke has been clogged with people since it arrived, and yesterday was no exception. Although I arrived at 5 pm on a Wednesday, there was already a crowd of about 20 snaking out of the restaurant, a problem which is exacerbated by the fact that Artichoke isn't really the kind of place that rewarms slices that have been sitting around the entire day. 45 minutes later, I arrived at the front, only to find that there weren't any regular slices. When would they be ready? "Shrug", the man behind the counter said. But, luckily enough, a huge artichoke and spinach pizza had just come out of the oven. I pointed at that, forked over my three dollars, and went scurrying out, the lengthening line staring enviously at my score as I squeezed by them.

How was it? Alan Richman's verdict (what I linked to above), is spot on:

This isn’t just pizza. This is the way ordinary food used to taste in New York—superficially no different from food anywhere else, but in reality considerably better. It had little to do with superior ingredients and everything to do with New York know-how.

Is it an amazing Italian style pizza? No. It's not meant to be. It's thick. And big. And cheesy. What it does, however, is explain to skeptics raised on doughy, mushy, "New York style" fast food why a New York pizza was once thought to be something special. I only wish I could wander around Times Square diverting tourists down to Artichoke, and away from the depressing places they end up in. But then, the wait for me would get even longer.