Sauce Tossed With Abandon; Taste Served to Perfection

We all know that pizza wars undoubtedly involve acerbic debates about "correct" ingredients, heat, oven time, preparation methods, size, crust thickness, et al. We all read the "best of" or year end lists by different editors, writers, bloggers and food enthusiasts who write about their sometimes parallel, sometimes opposing opinions about what pizzerias have made the cut for best slice in town. (Especially for a place like this, where it wouldn't be unusual to find an hour-long wait for a slice of pizza on any given day--especially weekends--between the hours of 11 pm-3 am.)

This is not my intention. I come in peace and in hunger.

Tucked away on a fairly banal strip of 14th street between 1st and 2nd Avenues, Artichoke (official name: Artichoke Basille's Pizza) has added a new variant on the list of white sauce, pomodoro-free pizzas: the spinach and artichoke pizza. It's wonderful what it does for your sensory system: the creamy, sometimes velvety, sometimes lumpy sauce and the just-doughy-enough crust is thick and crunchy, making for a roller coaster of a pizza ride. Essentially spinach and artichoke dip on focaccia bread, the spinach, artichoke, and cheeses (more than one kind) have gone on a long journey through the oven, with the flavors emerging true and pungent as they come out of the oven and into your mouth. The sporadic blisters provide a wonderful smokey compliment to the slight char of the crust.

Artichoke serves four different kinds of pie (spinach and artichoke, regular, Sicilian, and crab, when available). The regular slice--tons of cheese and fresh basil at $3.50/slice--is actually one of the better slices in the area, but the spinach and artichoke slice is so undeniable, I struggle to visit this place and not get the latter. And while it's fairly pricey for a walk-in pizza joint, $4/slice, it's more than filling--and more than likely that you will not want another slice. Eat with your stomach--not your eyes. Be prepared to go here before you go out with friends or plan on having a relaxing night; do not go here if you plan on going for a jog afterwards.

Ok, so the hearty pizza has the potential to have deleterious effects on your digestive system. But you mustn't concern yourself with the Artichoke afterlife. You must focus on the here and the now: on the gooey, gloppy, cheesy goodness. It's one of those foods that every time you get it, after the initial bite, you stop for a second, widen your eyes, drop your jaw, and exhale in satisfaction and nostalgia for the remembrance of the amazing taste that you knew and still are lucky to know as you continue on to your next bite.

More than my digestive system, however, I feel worse for Crocodile Lounge, the bastion of kill-two-birds-with-one-stone nightlife: for every drink you purchase, you get a slice of pizza. The pizza tastes good; it's fine. But situated directly across from Crocodile Lounge, it's Artichoke's long lines that are a testament to its gooey goodness. The 'choke has made a killing off of the droves of bar-hopping bar hoppers running around the many East Village bars looking for an edible nightcap. They serve beer with their pizza, not pizza with their beer.

There's not much to look at while you wait: the place is tiny. It could probably hold nine people, maximum, if you want to be uncomfortable. Aside from the mini fridge of soda and beer and the stacked pizza boxes waiting to be filled and escorted to a new home, the only trappings are a painting of three of the four Kennedy brothers (Joe Jr. not included) and a random leg lamp, just like the one Randy and Ralphie's father coveted in A Christmas Story. (I'm more on the mother's side: displeased.) So while this true hole-in-the-wall may not offer the amenities of a more upscale pizza joint (especially the ones that have been popping up as of late), what it lacks in size and services, it more than makes up for in taste.

Be happy and Carpe Diem!