7 Unusual Pizza Slices Worth Checking Out
Chopped cheese, artichoke, pear-and-gorgonzola are among the oddball options

Walk into any Midtown pizzeria and see a long glass case loaded with dozens of slices posed at sexy angles so that tourists and other pizza neophytes will be dazzled by the display, many of them containing chicken and squirted with ranch dressing, Buffalo wing seasonings, or bottled barbecue sauce. While many diehard pizza lovers typically stick with the most fundamental slices — plain cheese and pepperoni are the classics — there are modern innovative slices well worth trying, some reflecting fusion with other culinary cultures. Here are some extreme examples.
Ziti slice at Margari Pizza
Nobody knows who first invented the ziti slice. Adam Kuban and Scott Wiener place its invention sometime in the 1990s and credit Pizza Suprema. I first tasted one around 1995 at John & Joe’s Pizzeria in Pelham Parkway: It blew me away. The idea of pizza and pasta in one fell swoop seemed brilliant. The best ziti slice I’ve tasted is at Margari Pizza, where the pasta is intentionally overcooked, the cheese doubled, and the tomato sauce kept to a minimum, all serving to further accentuate the crunchy excellence of the thin crust. 1072 Second Avenue, Midtown East
Poached pear slice at Mama’s Too
Mama’s Too was in the vanguard of the odd pizza slice movement when it was founded six years ago. Among its heavy square slices, often sodden (in a good way) with grease and juices, was this poached pear slice, which also incorporated sweet gorgonzola and hot honey, caramelizing extravagantly along the edges. 2750 Broadway, Upper West Side; 325 Bleecker Street, West Village
Burrapizza Cafonata at Unregular Pizza
Was this establishment founded four years ago the first to put a whole ball of faddish burrata on a slice of pizza? Maybe you think it’s a good idea, maybe not, but once the ball split open, it made the messiest and creamiest slice on record, a welter of flavors in this case including cupping pepperoni, hot honey, and ‘nduja (salami paste). 135 Fourth Avenue, Union Square; other locations
Stuffed slice at La Villa
The stuffed slice is terra incognita to pizza aficionados. It hails from Abruzzo and traveled over the mountains and is sometimes thus known as the pizza Romana. Here, the double crust, browned top and bottom, bulges with sausage, pepperoni, peppers, and potatoes, and is damn delicious. 261 Fifth Avenue, Park Slope; other locations
Chopped cheese slice at Cuts & Slices
This Bed-Stuy pizzeria has caused a sensation lately with the range and assertive toppings of its thick-crust slices, running to things like brown stew oxtail, jerk shrimp, and gooey shrimp and lobster black truffle Alfredo, all of them with the considerable heft of a pair of regular slices. The one I’ve enjoyed most so far is the chopped cheese slice — a relatively thick wedge inspired by the famous chopped cheese sandwiches of East Harlem and the Bronx. A gravel of ground beef lies upon yellow cheese, with squiggles of ketchup and mayo. And if there ever were a time when ketchup belonged on a slice, this is it. 93 Howard Avenue, Bedford-Stuyvesant; other locations
Artichoke slice at Artichoke Basille
This ubiquitous chain was inspired by a unique Staten Island style of pizza found at places like Goodfella’s in Dongan Hills — a round thick pie with a soupy mixture of seafood and vegetables on top. The gigantic artichoke slice at Artichoke Basille might have a can of Campbell’s cream of artichoke soup — if there were such a thing — dumped on top. The slice is salty, creamy, and more than filling. 59 Fifth Avenue, Park Slope; other locations
Chicken tikka masala pie at Onion Tree Pizza Co.
Onion Tree started out last year in the East Village, a branch of a restaurant in Sea Cliff, Long Island that topped Neapolitan and Roman pizzas with Indian ingredients. This pizza Romana in particular is shotgunned with morsels of chicken in a creamy tomato sauce dotted with chiles and curry leaves, the latter of which is a natural to go on a plain cheese slice — carry some with you next time you visit Joe’s Pizza. 214 First Avenue, East Village