Review: Screamin' Sicilian "Holy Pepperoni" Frozen Pizza

 During this decades-long Pizza Renaissance, frozen pizza has taken a back seat because it's so easy to find good-to-great pizza almost anywhere. That's not to say that frozen pizza hasn't improved substantially, and so when I found the Screamin' Sicilian "Holy Pepperoni" pizza on sale for $3.99 (usually in the $6 to $9 range), it was an easy decision to stash one in my home freezer.

It spent about a month in my freezer, stored vertically in a frozen pizza storage slot. That was probably a mistake, because the pepperoni had all shifted to one side of the pie. However, it was easy to redistribute the sliced rounds and I couldn't do it without overlapping pepperoni, which means there was a LOT of pepperoni there. The pizza was pretty small, perhaps 10.5 inches in diameter.

Pre-bake

The recommended baking time was 17-19 minutes at 425 degrees; mine looked perfectly done at 18 minutes. I allowed it a minute to cool before cutting it into six modest triangles.

The pepperoni dominated the sensory experience; salty, oily, chewy, umami-rich. The cheese was also prominent - chewy, creamy, and pretty much melded into the sauce. That sauce was a role player here, but the flavors of the sauce, cheese and pepperoni were nicely balanced.

The crust was disappointing, tasting like the crust of another era when frozen pizza was mediocre at best. It was soft but sturdy enough, but lacked the character of good pizza crust or even good bread. "Toasted white bread" would be the nicest thing I can say about it; it was merely a delivery vehicle for the other ingredients.

The New York Times product evaluation team at Wirecutter included this pizza in their "Top Nine" frozen pizzas, largely based on the copious amounts of cheese and pepperoni. Their reviewers were a little kinder regarding the crust, but said "The crust is no star, reminiscent of a thicker version of the crunchy, crumbly, almost cracker-like crust you’d find in a Red Baron or Tombstone pizza."

Underside had a little character 

For any pizza, be it frozen or delivery or in a booth at your local mom'n'pop pizza shop, the baseline for comparison is DiGiorno rising crust pizza. Is it better than DiGiorno? This one isn't, because the crust is always (ALWAYS) the most important component of any pizza.

This pizza was good, surely worth the $4 I spent and not bad even in its regular price range. But if you want a great pie that is universally available like frozen pizza, get a pizza from the food court at Whole Foods (review HERE) or get the "Pinsa" pizza in the refrigerated section of Costco (review HERE).

Review: Jay's Artisan Pizza - Kenmore (Buffalo) NY

Buffalo’s Bifocal Pizza Vision: One Eye on Naples, One on Detroit

Jay’s Artisan Pizza in Kenmore, just outside Buffalo, is a pizzeria with a split soul - and that’s a compliment. One half of its identity is rooted in the blistered, leopard-spotted Neapolitan tradition; the other in the caramelized, cheese-crowned corners of Detroit-style squares. 

Jay Langfelder founded Jay’s in 2017 after years of slinging wood-fired pies from a food truck called O.G. Wood Fire. Both pizza styles are executed with serious intent, and under the stewardship of new owner and pizzaiolo Joe Powers, Jay’s landed as the fourth best pizza in America, according to the Italian website 50 Top Pizza. That site said: 

The casual and welcoming restaurant offers two distinct styles: the 12" Neapolitan, served whole on trays, and the Detroit-style, thick and crispy, ideal for take-away. The dough is well-hydrated, long-leavened, and highly digestible, with consistently precise cooking. Excellent options include the 'Nduja, intense yet balanced, and the Speck & Parmigiano, with a refined taste. There is a great attention to ingredients, with DOP cheeses and local vegetables. The Detroit-style also impresses with its structure and crispiness, with versions like the Hot Cherry Pepper or the more original Viva Mexico.

Our group of four visited on a lovely late summer day in September, and of course we had to try both styles of pizza. We ordered two of the 12" Neapolitan pies and one of the much more thick and dense Detroit style.

We started by sharing a generously-portioned Castelfranco Radicchio salad, which was exceedingly fresh, albeit with a too-mild dressing. A "needs more seasoning theme" was starting.

Let’s assess the four-slice Detroit-style pizza ($17), which was nothing short of spectacular. The crust was a masterclass in contrast: airy and light inside, yet crunchy and fried on the bottom, with that signature frico edge that crackles like a potato chip. 

Underside of a Detroit slice

The red sauce - ladled post-bake in thick, confident stripes -was bright, fresh, and tomato-forward, with a whisper of sweetness and a clean finish. The garlic and cup-and-char pepperoni added yet another layer of umami. 

This is the kind of pizza that makes you forget you’re in Buffalo and start Googling flights to Motor City. I didn't find any flaws, and it stands with the best Detroit pies I've had anywhere.

The Margherita

The Neapolitan pies are clearly made with care. The crust had that ideal puffy cornicione, charred just enough, with a soft, elastic chew. But the Margherita ($17) was a letdown. The sauce was underseasoned and timid, lacking the punch you expect from San Marzano tomatoes. The mozzarella, too, was bland and forgettable, more texture than taste. 

It’s a shame, because the dough deserved better. Still a very nice pie, but it left you wanting to add flavorings on top - pepper flakes, salt, grated cheese, chili oil, hot honey. A perfectly made pizza would deliver all the taste with no need for tinkering at the table.

The Pesto Pie

The Neapolitan pesto pie ($19) fared better. Roasted tomatoes added a welcome depth and sweetness, and the pesto had a nice herbal lift. Still, everything could’ve used a hit of salt - a recurring theme across both styles.

Impeccable Neapolitan crust

We enjoyed the space; Jay’s has a casual, open-kitchen vibe that invites you to linger. You can watch the pizzaiolos work the dough and feed the Pavesi oven while sipping a $10 glass of Sangiovese—a fair pour, though not particularly memorable. The space feels more Naples than Buffalo, and that’s clearly the point.

Jay’s is a tale of two pizzas. The Detroit-style is destination-worthy, a benchmark for the genre. The Neapolitan pies show promise, especially in crust and technique, but need bolder seasoning to match the dough’s potential. Still, in a city dominated by its own regional style, Jay’s is a refreshing - and at times thrilling - departure.

Final verdict? Come for the Detroit, stay for the crust, and bring your own salt shaker.

Review: DeSano Pizzeria Napoletana, Austin TX

A short fifteen years ago, it was hard to get a pizza worth the calories outside of a relative handful of surviving legacy pizza joints (e.g. Totonno's in Coney Island, DeLorenzo's in Trenton, Arturo's and John's in the Village (NYC), Tacconelli’s in Philly, Sally's in New Haven, Vito & Nick's in Chicago, Santarpio in Boston, Conte's in Princeton, & DiFara in Brooklyn). Today, I could rank not just the Top Five in an unlikely city like Austin, but I could name the Top Five Neapolitan pizzas in Austin and all would be worth the time, effort, and calories. 

With DeSano, we will examine another contender, to my surprise and delight. After six and a half years in my adopted hometown of Austin, the food continues to confound any preconceived notions. The BBQ has exceeded my high expectations (though most sides at BBQ joints remain dismal), while the Mexican food trails Arizona, New Mexico, and California by a wide gap.

Meanwhile, Austin has become a hotbed for top-end Japanese restaurants! The New York Times recently listed the 25 top restaurants in Austin, and several of them were Japanese. Regarding the chef's selection menu approach in these places, the NYT said "In 1995, Tyson Cole, a white, Florida-born sushi novice, was hired by a Japanese chef in Austin on the condition that he learn Japanese. That discipline is still evident in the food at Uchi, the restaurant Mr. Cole opened 8 years later. This is how Austin, where Japanese are only 0.2% of the population, became home to one of the country’s most dynamic Japanese restaurant scenes ... Omakase restaurants are to tech-boom Austin what mounted longhorns are to Texas steakhouses: distinguishing features suggestive of achievement."

But let's get on to the pizza! Pizza has been the most surprising revelation. Coming here from Philly/NJ/NY region, I had eaten some of the world's best pizza. Expecting to find little of that here, early on I discovered top shelf Neapolitan at Pieous and the incredible Detroit pizza at Via 313, which has kept its standards high even as it grows the number of locations. Since then, Baldinucci and Allday and Pedroso's are all making pies that rival the best of the northeast.

The Margherita

I had seen the downtown DeSano pizzeria (Lavaca Street) and learned that the Burnet Road location was opened first. I wrongly assumed that they were the (only) two outlets of an Austin-based pizzeria, but in fact the first DeSano was in Nashville. DeSano now has ten locations in Austin, Nashville, North and South Carolina, Florida, and California.

The Pepperoni Doppio

Their website notes their pizza philosophy: "At DeSano Pizzeria, we follow the strict guidelines of the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana (VPN), preserving the centuries old craft of making authentic Neapolitan pizza." Their dough is made fresh daily using low-gluten flour, and ingredients for everything on the menu are imported from Italy (except for French butter).

We visited the Burnet location for dinner on a hot August night. The interior is a large, airy, welcoming space with large black and white photos of Italian life and a very cool red scooter on display. Although DeSano is proud of following the VPN guidelines, they make a traditional 12in "Napoli" ($22 for the margherita) and a 16 inch "Grande"  version ($28). However, the VPN specifies that a Neapolitan pizza may not exceed 35cm in diameter, which is 13.78 inches. 

Beyond that, my reasoning to be leery of the16" pizza is that a Neapolitan pie is going to have a lot of flop and potential wet center at that larger diameter, so we stuck to the traditional size. We ordered a 12 inch Margherita (San Marzano tomato sauce, mozzarella di bufala, olive oil, basil, & pecorini romano) and a 12 inch Pepperoni Doppio (San marzano tomato sauce, pepperoni, nickel pepperoni, garlic, scamorza, mozzarella di bufala, & pecorini romano).

The crust was textbook Neapolitan, expertly rendered. It was thin and soft with a cornicione that was both dense and puffy. It had the signature leopard spotting on the edges and underneath. Under VPN rules, the red sauce has to be pretty simple, and this seemed to be a thin base of unseasoned tomato sauce. 

Under the hood

For those accustomed to the bold umami flavors of New York, New Haven, Detroit, and other American styles, this sauce might seem bland. It serves mostly as a role player. I suspect the cheeseless Marinara pie has more pop to the tomato sauce because it is seasoned with garlic, oregano, and salt.

I preferred the pepperoni pizza to the traditional Margherita, precisely because that pepperoni delivered on the umami. Both of these pizzas were essentially flawless in execution, but they drove home an opinion that has been growing in my pizza perception: pizza may have been invented in Naples, but it was perfected in America. On most days, I'll take a well-executed Trenton, Old Forge, New York, Detroit, or New Haven pizza over a Neapolitan because the flavors are so much bigger.

Having said that, we had three slices left over, and they spent two months in my freezer. We reheated them in a toaster oven and they were fresh, soft, and tasty. A Neapolitan that survives a freezer journey and still tastes great? Sign of a particularly well made pie with superior ingredients. If Neapolitan is your jam, DeSano is about as good as it gets.