Tag: pizza

By Kyle J. Hayes

We’ve all been there.

Sitting around a table, maybe a few drinks deep, maybe already two slices in, when someone—loud, confident, maybe even a little too sure of themselves—declares who has the best pizza.

And just like that, the debate begins.

It’s a ritual, really. An argument older than most friendships.

But when it comes down to it, the big three have always stood tall: Chicago. New York. Detroit.

And yes, there are others—those small regional legends and local spots that are too niche or strange to be included in the national conversation.

And by strange, I do mean you, California.

I’ll get to you in a minute.

The Titans: New York, Chicago, Detroit

New York.

The king of portability. The slice you fold in half, dripping grease onto the paper plate, eaten on the move, city horns blaring in the distance.

New York pizza is unapologetically simple: thin crust, crisp but chewy, sauce lightly spread, mozzarella bubbling. It’s not meant to be analyzed—it’s meant to be devoured.

And that’s part of its brilliance. No frills, no fuss. It’s the street food of dreams.

But simplicity is a double-edged sword—one bad step, one lazy ingredient, and the whole thing falls apart. New York pizza is as good as the hands making it, no better, no worse.

Chicago.

Now, Chicago doesn’t want you eating on the move.

With your fork and knife in hand, Chicago wants you seated, ready to commit.

Some say the deep dish is an experience—a casserole pretending to be a pizza. Still, it forces you to slow down and let the sauce, cheese, and thick buttery crust remind you that pizza can be hearty, indulgent, or even excessive.

But it’s not an everyday slice. It’s the heavyweight champ that demands respect, but maybe not the guy you want in your corner every single night.

Detroit.

The underdog that’s climbed its way into the big leagues.

Rectangular, caramelized cheese edges, a thick but airy crust, sauce ladled on top after baking.

Detroit is blue-collar pizza—born in auto factories, unapologetically square, sharp-edged, and strong.

It feels like the kind of pie made for people who work with their hands.

And the first bite hits you hard—the crunch, the chew, the sweet-savory punch of sauce.

It’s everything you didn’t know you wanted from pizza.

The Outlier: California

And then there’s California.

California walks in wearing flip-flops, kale on the crust, maybe figs, goat cheese, a drizzle of something organic and local.

They didn’t come to play by the rules.

Is it still pizza?

Technically, yes.

But is it trying too hard?

Absolutely.

California pizza isn’t about comfort; it’s about reinvention. And depending on who you are, that’s either refreshing—or an insult to everything sacred about a pie.

But Let’s Be Honest…

I could weigh the merits of each all day long.

But the truth is, 

  The best pizza I’ve ever had wasn’t about the zip code.

It was at Dion’s in Albuquerque, where the crust is seasoned just right, and every bite feels like someone cared about what they were doing.

Or Happy Joe’s in Rock Island, Illinois—home of the greatest Taco Pizza in the world, and yes, I’ll stand on that hill until the day I die.

They don’t compete by numbers.

They don’t have the same recognition.

But they don’t have to.

Because what makes pizza great isn’t the city.

It’s the hands that made it. The people behind the oven.

The memory attached to that first bite.

So argue all you want—New York, Chicago, Detroit, or California.

But the honest answer?

It’s wherever you sat down, took a bite, and thought:

This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Please like and leave a comment.