Ask any native New Yorker where to get the best pizza and you’ll start a fight. It’s inevitable. Some people swear by the thick, saucy squares in Brooklyn, while others won't leave Manhattan for anything less than a dollar slice that tastes like nostalgia and cardboard. But then there’s the Staten Island contingent. They don't just argue; they preach. And at the center of that sermon is usually Joe and Pat’s NYC.
It’s thin. Really thin.
We aren't talking about "artisan" thin where the middle is a soggy mess of buffalo mozzarella. This is the "cracker-thin" crust that stays rigid even when you load it with pepperoni. Founded back in 1960 by Joe and Pat Pappalardo, this spot has basically defined the Staten Island style for over six decades. It’s a family business that managed to do the impossible: they moved into Manhattan without losing their soul.
The Paper-Thin Magic of Joe and Pat’s NYC
Most people don't realize that making a crust this thin is actually harder than making a thick one. If your oven temperature is off by five degrees, you’ve got a burnt cracker. If the dough hasn't fermented long enough, it’s tough. Joe and Pat’s NYC uses a specific type of gas-fired oven that hits a sweet spot most wood-fired places can't replicate. It provides a consistent, dry heat that draws the moisture out of the dough immediately.
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The sauce is another story entirely. It’s sweet. Not "added sugar" sweet, but "sun-ripened plum tomato" sweet. It’s light on the herbs, letting the acidity of the tomatoes cut through the fat of the cheese. Honestly, if you’re used to heavy, garlic-laden marinara, this might catch you off guard. It’s subtle. You've got to appreciate the restraint.
You can see the heritage in the way they stretch the dough. It's a rhythmic, almost meditative process that hasn't changed since the Eisenhower administration. They aren't trying to reinvent the wheel here. They’re just trying to keep the wheel as thin and crispy as humanly possible.
Why the East Village Location Changed the Game
For decades, if you wanted the real deal, you had to take the ferry. You had to trek out to Victory Boulevard in Staten Island. It was a pilgrimage. But in 2018, the Pappalardo family finally brought Joe and Pat’s NYC to First Avenue in the East Village.
Purists were terrified. New York is littered with the corpses of legendary outer-borough eateries that tried to make it in Manhattan and failed because they got "fancy." But the East Village spot nailed it. They brought the same ovens. They brought the same recipes. They even brought that specific, slightly no-nonsense service style that reminds you you’re in a real pizza joint, not a "concept restaurant."
The Manhattan space is bigger, sure. It’s got a full bar and a bit more of a "night out" vibe than the original 1960s storefront. But the pizza? It’s identical. That’s the E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) factor in action. They didn't let a higher rent district dictate a change in their flour-to-water ratio.
Comparing the "Tri-Pie" to Everything Else
If you walk into Joe and Pat’s NYC and don't know what to order, you’ll see people staring at a multicolored masterpiece. That’s the Tri-Pie. It’s a visual flex as much as a culinary one. You get three distinct stripes: vodka sauce, pesto, and their classic tomato sauce.
- The Vodka Sauce: Creamy, orange, and surprisingly rich given how thin the crust is.
- The Pesto: Sharp, herbaceous, and oily in the best way.
- The Classic: The baseline that reminds you why they've been open since 1960.
It isn't just a gimmick for Instagram, though it does look great in photos. Each sauce reacts differently to the heat. The vodka sauce side stays a bit softer, while the pesto side gets these incredible charred little bubbles. It’s a study in textures. Most places that try to do "multi-sauce" pizzas end up with a muddy mess in the middle. Here, the lines are sharp. It’s precise work.
Comparing this to a standard New York slice is like comparing a sports car to a reliable SUV. Both get you there. But Joe and Pat’s is built for speed and crispness. If you like the "flop"—that thing where the tip of the slice hangs down toward the plate—you won't find it here. This pizza stands up straight.
The Science of the "Staten Island" Slice
What makes a Staten Island slice different from a Brooklyn or Bronx slice? It’s the moisture content. Brooklyn slices often favor a slightly higher hydration dough, which leads to those big, airy, chewy crusts (think L'Industrie or Lucali).
Staten Island, led by spots like Joe and Pat’s and their cousins over at Rubirosa (which was started by a family member, AJ Pappalardo), goes the other way. They want the water out. They want the crunch. This requires a very specific type of cheese, too. You can't put high-moisture fresh mozzarella on a crust this thin, or it'll turn into soup. They use a high-quality, low-moisture whole milk mozzarella that melts evenly and browns in small, delicious spots.
It's basically engineering.
Common Misconceptions About Joe and Pat's
A lot of people walk in expecting a massive, doughy feast. They leave feeling "light." That’s the danger of Joe and Pat’s NYC—it’s deceptively easy to eat an entire large pie by yourself. I’ve seen it happen. You think you’re just having a couple of slices, and suddenly the tray is empty.
Another weird myth is that they only do pizza. Look, the pizza is the star, but their fried calamari and the "Cold Cheese" salad are legit. The Pappalardos understand that a restaurant needs to be a restaurant, not just a gallery for one dish.
- Is it expensive? It’s Manhattan/NYC pricing. You aren't getting a $1 slice. You’re paying for the legacy and the First Ave real estate.
- Is there a wait? On weekends, absolutely. The East Village spot gets packed with NYU students and aging pizza nerds alike.
- Do they deliver? Yes, but pizza this thin has a "half-life." It is 100% better eaten within three minutes of leaving the oven. The steam in a cardboard delivery box is the natural enemy of a cracker crust.
What the Critics (and the Internet) Say
Dave Portnoy from Barstool Sports gave the original location a massive score, which definitely spiked the crowds. But beyond the viral "One Bite" reviews, serious food critics like those at The New York Times and Eater have consistently praised the consistency of Joe and Pat’s.
Consistency is the hardest thing in the food world. To make the same tasting sauce in 2026 that you made in 1960 is a feat of logistical strength. It means sourcing the same tomatoes, even when supply chains get weird. It means training new pizzaiolos to respect the "thinness" even when they want to show off with big crusts.
How to Do Joe and Pat’s NYC Right
If you’re planning a visit, don't just wing it.
Start with the East Village location if you want a more "vibrant" atmosphere, but if you have a car and a free Saturday, go to the original on Victory Blvd. There is something about the fluorescent lights and the history of the Staten Island walls that makes the pizza taste 5% better.
Order the pizza "well done" if you want to push the limits of the crunch. They already cook it pretty crisp, but a few extra seconds in that gas oven creates a char that is purely addictive. Also, don't sleep on the white pie. Without the tomato sauce, you really taste the quality of the dough and the olive oil they use.
Actionable Steps for Your Pizza Pilgrimage:
- Time it right: Aim for a late lunch (2:00 PM - 4:00 PM) to avoid the 7:00 PM rush where the kitchen is slammed.
- The "Half and Half" Rule: If you can't decide on the Tri-Pie, they are very accommodating with half-and-half toppings. Get half plain to test the base, and half sausage (which they make in-house and slice thin).
- Eat In: Do not—I repeat, do not—take this pizza to go if you're traveling more than ten minutes. The crust is too delicate for the "box steam" effect. Sit down, get a cold Peroni, and eat it hot.
- Check the Specials: Occasionally the Manhattan location runs seasonal toppings like ramp or specialty mushrooms that you won't find on the standard Staten Island menu.
The reality is that Joe and Pat’s NYC represents a specific slice of New York history. It’s a bridge between the old-school Italian-American neighborhoods and the modern, fast-paced culinary scene of Manhattan. It’s proof that if you do one thing exceptionally well—even if that thing is as simple as a thin piece of dough with some sauce and cheese—the world will eventually come to you. You don't need a gimmick when you have the perfect crunch.