Slices of Heaven: Phoenix's Pizza Scene

A pizza lover eats her way through the upper crust of Phoenix’s formidable pizza scene.

By Suzanne Wright
 

Most pizzas are consumed quickly and then forgotten. But the part of my brain that catalogs food memories is inhabited by at least two pizzas of sublime distinction.

Two decades ago, in the shadow of the Vatican, I consumed a remarkable pie topped with curls of radicchio and wisps of fresh ricotta. In Providence, Rhode Island, I sunk my teeth into a chewy, grilled crust so smoky it was like swallowing a campfire.

I love piping-hot pizza—I’ve scalded the roof of my mouth many times in my impatience. I also love cold pizza, which I sometimes eat while standing over my kitchen sink. I’ve enjoyed breakfast pizza with fried eggs and dessert pizza with caramelized apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon. I’ve eaten pizza when I was broke and pizza when I was flush. I’ve sampled thicker, doughier crust, but I always return to the gold standard: a thin crust with a good char. 

Pizza has also broken my heart. An episode in my 20’s involved a weepy breakup, slimy eggplant, a soggy crust and a sympathetic waiter in a trendy trattoria. I could never bring myself to eat there again. 

There’s no pair of skinny jeans so important to me that I would jettison pizza from my diet. And it’s a good thing, because Phoenix is blessed with some of the country’s best pizza purveyors—two of which are certified by the Vera Pizza Napoletana, or V.P.N., an association that authenticates the pizza standards of Naples.

Chris Bianco was the first Phoenix pizza maker to garner national attention. He is the only pizza chef to win a regional best-chef award from the James Beard Foundation, and his pie has been rated as the best pizza in America by Bon Appétit, Rachel Ray, Andrew Zimmerman, and former New York Times culinary journalist and Serious Eats founder Ed Levine.