We could tell you about the way the pizzaiolo at this cash-only, BYOB restaurant rolls out dough with empty wine bottles on a marble countertop in the candlelit dining room. But those details don’t matter for this guide. We’re here to talk about Lucali's thin New York-style pies, which have crunchy crusts, a serious sprinkle of minced garlic, and tomato sauce that’s a little sweet, a little tangy, and good enough to eat with a spoon. This pizza is absolutely perfect - the best we've had in NYC.

Going to L&B is a rite of passage, and if you haven’t made the trip out to Gravesend for a square slice, we don’t think you can really call yourself a New Yorker. This place has been around since 1938, with an over-the-top Rococo interior for sit-down meals and an always-bustling outdoor seating area with grab-and-go windows for slices, sandwiches, and spumoni. Don’t bother with round pizza here, you want their signature sauce-on-top square that achieves textural perfection.

This is the sixth iteration of Una Pizza Napoletana, and we know exactly why this place won’t die. It’s serving the best Neapolitan pies in NYC—and possibly the world. Open three days a week, Una Pizza is now in a remodeled, candlelit room on the Lower East Side. Our go-to order is the margherita, but if you’re in the mood for something without sauce, try the bianca with anchovies and dip torn-off pieces of crust into the fishy and salty pool of olive oil that forms in the middle of the pie.

Di Fara opened in 1965, and they’ve been making legendary pies in South Brooklyn ever since. The late owner Dom DeMarco made the pizzas himself right behind the counter for most of that time, but now the pizza-making torch has been passed on to his family. The pizza here is still being prepared with several different kinds of cheese, olive oil, and plenty fresh basil. It has a crunchy crust that's notably salty, and each slice will offer a satisfying crackle as you fold it.

L’Industrie sets the new standard for New York’s great slice. Each bite of blistered thin crust puffs then crunches, tasting more like bakery bread than typical pizza thanks to a long fermentation process. Minimal tomato sauce and spot-on oven temperatures ensure that a layer of rich mozzarella stays perfectly in place, while a proper stream of orange grease drips down your wrist when you fold a slice. Their pizza has a thin crust, basil and grated parmesan on every slice.

Chrissy's now has a permanent home in the East Village, and they’ve spent the summer doing pre-orders for pick-up while preparing to fully open. Naturally, it’s been impossible to secure a pie. Eventually, we showed up and begged some guy to give us a slice in exchange for a pint of Superiority Burger ice cream. Thankfully, he obliged. A Chrissy’s pepperoni slice is thin, crisp, and has little pools of orange grease in each pepperoni cup—one bite and you’ll understand why we were so desperate.

Ops perfected their sourdough long before society jumped on the naturally-leavened-dough train. Each time we eat here, their wood-fired pizzas seem to get tangier. In terms of style, Ops’ pies fit somewhere between crispy New York and soppy-in-the-middle Neapolitan, as each slice remains straight when you hold it in the air, but the crust puffs up like a balloon.

The greatest places to grab a slice are generally not establishments where you want to stay and hang for a while. Paulie Gee’s Slice Shop is different though. It’s a counter-service spot that looks like a neighborhood pizza parlor from the 1970s, and it’s where you’ll find some excellent, foldable New York-style slices with crust that’s equal parts chewy and crispy. Their “Hellboy” slice—with hot honey and spicy pepperoni—is one of the finest things in New York City that you can purchase for $5.

We once went to Mama’s Too to eat their gas-oven Sicilian squares when it was 15 degrees outside. We had to wear pants under our pants, and it was 100% worth it. That was the first time we tried their 'shroom and sausage slice and the cacio e pepe pizza with its four types of cheese and cracked black pepper, both of which will enrich your life in ways you have yet to fathom. And those aren’t even the best slices here. The square pepperoni one is worth a trip across the city.

We once tried to get an employee to tell us the secret to this Flushing spot’s pizza. They gave us a one-word answer: consistency. Open since the 1970s, Amore is still churning out simple, perfect New York-style pies for a steady stream of customers. Stop by for a whole cheese pizza, or try to snag a slice fresh from the oven. The crust is thin and crispy with a little bit of chew, the sauce is thick and not-too-sweet, and the hefty layer of cheese on top is bright orange with grease.