The current state of the New York City slice is that an overengineered yet exceedingly average product will garner lines around the block and a 2000+ word write-up in a bourgeois magazine. So where does that leave a place like Bleecker Street Pizza?
The corner location is well-lit, clean, tidy enough that you won’t give it a second thought. Apart from the requisite wall-mounted media clips, photos of celebrities with the air of a hostage-situation proof-of-life, and kitschy New Yawk ephemera, the space is utilitarian: a counter where you order, a standing bar, a handful of small tables inside and on the sidewalk, a dining area off to the side where there’s a bit more room. What more do you need?
Drink-wise, it’s sodas and such yanked from a cooler or dispensed from a fountain. You can also show your ID to grab beer or wine with your pizza, which earns the place an extra point or two.
A glance through the sneeze-guard reveals tourist-bait pies with goofy toppings that no self-respecting New Yorker would touch: A) Your average NYC slice is tasty enough on its own to save you a bit of money. B) That chicken and ranch have been sitting at room temp for God knows how long whereas plain and pepperoni pies are virtually guaranteed to be the fr-fr-freshest C) A heap of toppings make a slice wetter and heavier than the form is meant to handle. Would you top a hot dog with spaghetti?
But you didn’t come here for a sermon. You want pizza brass tacks, and here they are: Bleecker Street Pizza is aight! Pretty good! It’s the pale, doughy side with not enough bubble or char and a slightly oversweet sauce, but still totally enjoyable. The signature grandma-esque Nonna Maria slice (i.e. fresh[er] mozz, parm, shreds of basil, blots of sauce) is better, more nuanced, so that’s what you should get.
Is Bleecker Street the best pizza in NYC? It’s not even the best on Bleecker Street. Is it better than any dollar-slice place? Absolutely. Is it better than a frozen-docked-pale-conveyor belt chain that you're supposed to douse in ~creamy~ shelf-stable chemical sauce equivalent? Bet your ass it is.
In a city where hype often excels mediocrity, this joint isn’t spinning pretentious yarns about heritage cheese curds or whatever. It persists in a hypebeast-free zone, doing what it ought to: beckoning the hungry with grandiose signage and sliding slices across the counter for a few bucks. And maybe that’s the truth hiding behind the couture curtain: wait on line like a chump if you must, but a New York slice doesn’t need to be haute gourmet to be precisely what you need.