It’s been over two months since I left New York and almost three months since I worked at Mama Theresa’s, a pizzeria near my home.  Needless to say, my taste buds had a hankering for crisp, cheesy slice. 

I’ve refused to indulge my appetite throughout the road trip in order to avoid severe disappointment because, really, nobody wants pizza from Texas.

Since we’ve arrived in the Bay Area certain cravings have rekindled and I decided to give some of the eateries here a shot.  Why not?  Northern California has some of the country’s best beer and their cuisine is world class, so I figured I could find a decent slice.

After some research, I luckily learned about a displaced Brooklynite living in the Berkeley who had the same jones as I did.  In 2004 he opened up a small pizza counter called Gioia Pizzeria to dish out New York style pies and ultimately, relive the deliciousness of real pizza.

Chicago dogs in Georgia?  Memphis barbecue in Arizona?  New York style pizza in…any other state?

I’m always a bit skeptical of trying a regional specialty away from its birthplace but a combination of my desire for a real slice and lack of will power caused me to set out and try the pizza. 

The hole in the wall pizzeria smelled legit, so we ordered a pie.  Fifteen minutes later, my girlfriend and I were parked on the sidewalk bench, greedily chomping away at a piping hot, 16-inch circle of nostalgia.  

The pie was a little small, the crust was a little thick but overall we were satiated.  While I’m reluctant to call pizza bought in California New York pizza, Gioia’s comes pretty close.  Maybe if the local homeless population starts asking me for spare change instead of philosophizing about peace and love the pizza would gain that crusty edge I’m seeking.