The first bite hits before the slice even cools – molten cheese, blistered crust, sauce that refuses to be subtle. You tell yourself you’ll wait, you won’t scorch your tongue this time, but the aroma wins and suddenly you’re juggling a paper plate and laughing at your own impatience.
In this city, pizza isn’t background food – it’s debate fuel, comfort therapy, and late-night salvation all in one box. Thin and foldable?
Puffy and charred? Square and crispy at the edges?…