As the undisputed best place in the world to eat pizza, NYC has many, many great pizzerias. But our favorite is Lucali, a cash-only restaurant in Brooklyn that requires you to line up at 4pm for dinner a few hours later. You won’t mind that there’s only one option (not counting a calzone) to choose from, because it’s the perfect New York pizza: a thin, crunchy crust, a serious sprinkle of minced garlic, a shower of basil, and tomato sauce that’s sweet, tangy, and good enough to eat with a spoon.

Pequod’s serves pan-style pies with sauce underneath the toppings (unlike traditional Chicago-style deep dish, which has sauce on top). But what sets these pies apart from the average pan-style is its “caramelized” crust, also known as the burnt edges of crispy cheese surrounding the pizza. The crust itself is thick and airy with a great crunch, and the pies only have a little bit of sauce.

Detroit-style pizza is no longer just popular in Michigan, as almost every city in America has come to realize how great it is. But it’s important to point out where it started: Buddy’s Pizza. What makes these pies great is the balance of the crispy edges on every slice—something you only get with a square pizza—and the soft, airy inside. This local chain has expanded to 22 locations across Michigan, meaning you can get your fix of the rectangular pan pies wherever you are in the state.

Pizzeria Beddia used to be a counter-service spot where you had to stand outside for a chance at a slice. Now, it’s a chic, airy restaurant with a long wine list, Italian small plates, and still, the city’s best pies. Our favorite, the No. 2, is topped with calabrian cream, mozzarella, gouda, and fresh greens, all on top of crispy yet bubbly dough. The two kinds of cheese set this pie apart: the whole thing is so creamy, it tastes like there are mini fondue machines hidden around the edges.

In LA, we’re skeptical of Detroit-style pizza. These pan pies have pummeled the city, and it’s tough to tell which shops are doing the style justice and which ones are just cashing in. Quarter Sheets falls into the first camp. This shop is full-on '90s birthday party nostalgia, but with even better pizza. Their inch-high, focaccia-like crusts crackle and snap like that one cereal that has elven brothers as mascots. Inside, a pillowy middle soaks up sweet red sauce that’s striped across the top.

Antico is Atlanta’s Michael of pizza (any Michael: Tyson, Jordan, Jackson). They’ve nailed the perfectly charred, chewy doneness of the Neapolitan pie like no other. And like “flu game Jordan,” they never disappoint—probably since they keep a short menu and a strict no-substitutions rule. The service is also super speedy. Pizzas topped with imported Italian meats and cheeses come delivered to your table in near minutes after placing your order at the counter.

Miami Slice came into our lives with a New York-style pizza so good, we’d slap any naysayers across the face to initiate a pizza duel. The slices at this tiny shop are crispy from corner to corner, perfectly ratioed with incredible toppings, and one of the few foods we’ll wait three hours in the sun to consume. The wait times are intense, and getting your pizza to go can take longer than waiting for a seat at the counter, so just brave the often chaotic line and eat it fresh from the oven.

Outta Sight in SF nails every element necessary to a perfect slice. There’s a chewy yet crisp crust that’s foldable without getting soggy. Toppings are packed with flavor, whether you opt for the smoky pepperoni cups or slightly sweet vodka sauce paired with globs of gooey mozzarella. And a satisfying, bright orange grease drips out of the creases. Plus, you get to devour it all in the company of E-40 bobbleheads and Giants foam fingers on the wall.

The first thing you’ll notice when you walk up to Side Eye Pie’s trailer at Meanwhile Brewing in Austin is the giant, wood-fired oven bolted onto the end. It’s what gives the pizzas their signature blistered and chewy crust and floppy center, while also making the whole place look like a tiny little rocket ship. The pies here lean Neapolitan in style, with classic mozzarella and basil toppings and a mushroom pizza topped with parma cream and some funky fontina cheese.

Tiny Champions in Houston keeps the pizza simple and a little snazzy—it’s like the restaurant threw a blazer over a graphic tee before heading out of the door. Thin slices of ricotta pizza get topped with delightfully charred kale greens, and the crispy crust is just soft enough for the slice to fold over with ease. The compact dining room is full of mismatched chandeliers fit for a sophisticated fairy dinner party, with dainty slices of pizza.