Until recently, anyone curious about the hullabaloo surrounding deep dish or Chicago-style pizza had to surrender their dignity and cross the threshold of their closest Pizzeria Uno. Some would say it's a passable facsimile to the real thing—if you've never had the real thing, that is. But Chicago transplant Emmett Burke saw a hole in New York's excellent pizza scene and decided to plug it up with pounds of cheese and sauce, opening his eponymous deep dish pizza restaurant in SoHo late last year. There are many things we do in the name of journalism so despite the wrath of Jon Stewart we trekked to Emmett's to experience what our friends in Chicago call "pizza."
The hefty pies come in four gut-busting sizes—the $20, 10" medium is suitable for two robust eaters. Unadorned pies mean tomato sauce, mozzarella and grated parmesan but you can also bulk it up with toppings like sausage, black olives and mushrooms. Unlike the crisp, Neapolitan pies just barely kissed by a coal oven, these monsters require about 40 minutes in the oven to cook through and another five to seven minutes to set. It's a difficult wait—especially with the aroma of fellow diner's dinners permeating the small room—but it'll give you time to take in Emmett's charming interior and also build an appetite for the onslaught of cheese to come.
The hodgepodge of posters and old signs lends itself well to a neighborhood pizza joint. It's comfortably dark—better for concealing your identity—and decidedly intimate, with just a few tables and seating for ten or so at the bar. We were taken with the groovy Miller beer clock above the bar and a giant poster for The Pope of Greenwich Village hanging in the bathroom. It's kind of like hanging in your really cool older cousin's apartment where you smoked pot for the first time while listening to Phish. (Live Phish, in small doses, did filter over the restaurant's subdued sound system.)
When your pie finally arrives on a gleaming silver pedestal, you'll also be presented with a small wooden hourglass. The pie needs time to set so it's not running all over the place, Emmett explained to us. It was actually his brother who came up with the cute visual (good luck telling them apart if they're both behind the bar). Once sliced, the fillings stay reasonably within their wedges with just a little bit of pleasant oozing. You'd expect some kind of knife-and-fork job would be necessary—eat your heart out, "fold" apologists!—but the crust is actually sturdy enough to support its toppings such that you can pick up a slice without fear of wearing your dinner.
John Del Signore demonstrates appropriate pie-eating technique (Nell Casey/Gothamist)
After the five minute waiting period, it's time to tuck in. The crust has a more crumbly texture from what must be a more coarse type of flour. It also stands up well to the mountain of cheese and sauce that it must bear, retaining its density without any mushiness from all the moisture. There's a thick tomato sauce, which has a robust flavor more commonly found atop a mound of spaghetti; it's got a lovely balance of sweetness and acid, though it errs on the side of salty. The thick layer of cheese adds a nice creamy texture and some richness to balance out the zingy sauce; it has a nice flavor similar to really high-quality, low-moisture mozzarella.
All in all, it's a really tasty slice of dinner and a lot less "soupy" than expected. Folks familiar with Chicago-style pies would give it a thumbs up, and Emmett says he's been doing brisk business. But at the end of the day, is it pizza? It bears a striking resemblance, to be sure, and the taste—although somewhat lasagna-esque in nature—is certainly reminiscent. For our judgements, we'll have to say yes, this is pizza. If we can accept Domino's and those slices with pasta on them and crappy dollar abominations then surely we can embrace an earnest, tasty offering from the Windy City.
But just to be clear, NYC is still the best.
50 MacDougal Street, (917) 639-3571; open nightly at 5:30 p.m.
