NY Pizza Suprema

If you look closely behind the counter of NY Pizza Suprema, you'll see a framed clipping from Slice Harvester, a now-abandoned but perennially informative blog run by Cookie Hagendorf, one of the first of their kind: a sort of OG food influencer, if you will. They took it upon themselves to work their way through every single slice shop in Manhattan. They didn't do it for likes; there was no neat way to quantify, let alone monetize, engagement back then anyway. It was a labor of love. Their site is how I first learned about NY Pizza Suprema; out of the hundreds of slice shops Cookie visited between 2009 and 2016, it was the only place to get a perfect score.

NY Pizza Suprema has held the same storefront on 8th Avenue since 1964. It's been family-owned and run the whole time. But with its corny name spelled out in cartoonish lettering on the storefront, one could be forgiven for thinking this midtown joint is just another of the city's ignorable money-laundering operations or Sbarro-esque tourist traps. There's no host, no line out the door, no in-house milling of heritage flour on a traditional donkey-driven millstone. It’s everything it needs to be, nothing more.

The basics are where this place shines. Plain, white, square, Margherita, grandma—you get it. On the slices, the crust is thin but sturdy; you can fold it cleanly. It won't droop, won't shatter. That means there's perfect gluten development, a balance of yield and chew. The bottom picks up just enough leoparding to give that hint of carbon, and the cheese on top caramelizes into crisp little pockets. The sauce, I will say, is a tad sweet for my taste. It's not ketchupy, but my preference for pizza's tomato element is a rustier, more herbaceous, more acidic profile. As such, my personal favorite here is the white slice: low-moisture mozz, olive oil, and blobs of ricotta. I throw some garlic powder, oregano, and chili flake on there, but that's just me. A friend whose opinions I respect swears by the white with mushrooms and hot honey. That's ungapatchka for me—hot honey's day is past. But I see what he likes about it. And it's certainly worth trying.

Due to its pedestrian-heavy location, Suprema pulls a steady mix of regulars and passersby. Don't stress if it looks crowded; the expert staff knows how to keep things moving. If you're on a pizza pilgrimage, don't miss this place. It proves, beautifully, that the city's “best” doesn't need to be received from on high and may, in fact, be hiding in plain sight.