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The 10 Best Cities for Pizza That Argue Over the Right Way to Make It

Ten of the best pizza cities settled one slice at a time — Naples versus New York versus the underdogs, each absolutely certain it does it the only correct way.

The best pizza cities all have one thing in common: everyone in them is absolutely certain they’re right, and absolutely furious about it. I love this. Pizza is the only food I know that starts genuine arguments between adults — thin or thick, char or no char, pineapple or exile. I’ve eaten my way through these ten cities specifically to referee, and I’ve come back with strong opinions and a slightly larger trouser size. Here’s where pizza is taken so seriously it’s basically a contact sport.

The birthplace, and they will remind you. Real Neapolitan pizza is strictly governed — San Marzano tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, a soft wet centre, a blistered puffy cornicione, 60 to 90 seconds in a blistering wood oven. It’s meant to be eaten with a fork and knife, soupy in the middle, and the Margherita at a backstreet pizzeria here genuinely changed how I think about food. Da Michele if you want the legend; almost anywhere if you just want it perfect.

The great rival, and the inventor of pizza as street food. Thin, foldable, wide slices sold by the slice from a counter, a little grease, a perfect crisp-chew balance. New Yorkers will fold a slice and eat it walking and call Naples too fussy, and Naples will faint. A classic plain cheese slice from an unremarkable corner spot at 1am is its own kind of religious experience.

The deep-dish heretics. A buttery, biscuity crust built up like a pie, layered with cheese then chunky tomato sauce on top, baked deep. Purists scream that it’s a casserole, not a pizza, and honestly they have a point — but it’s a delicious casserole. Lou Malnati’s or Pequod’s for the caramelised cheese crust. Come hungry; one slice is a meal and a nap.

Naples’ quieter rival, and very different. Roman pizza comes two ways: the thin, cracker-crisp pizza tonda, or pizza al taglio — rectangular, sold by weight, cut with scissors, eaten standing up. The al taglio scene is the real joy, dozens of toppings, you point, they weigh, you eat on your feet. Less dogma, more variety. Bonci is the temple.

A serious dark horse. New Haven “apizza” (say ah-BEETZ) is coal-fired, charred almost black at the edges, thin and chewy and gloriously irregular. The white clam pie at Frank Pepe is the famous one, no tomato, just clams, garlic, oil — and it converts skeptics on the spot. Connecticut quietly making some of America’s best pizza while New York and Chicago shout at each other.

The biggest pizza city you’ve never thought of. Huge Italian immigrant population, and São Paulo eats more pizza than almost anywhere, with its own thick, generously topped, slightly sweet-doughed style. Sundays are practically a national pizza day. The toppings get gloriously inventive (and yes, there is corn, and it works). Don’t sleep on Brazil.

The square one. Detroit-style pizza is thick and airy, baked in old steel automotive trays, with cheese spread to the very edge so it caramelises into a crispy “frico” crust, sauce often striped on top. It’s a genuinely brilliant format and it’s having a deserved global moment. Buddy’s invented it; everyone’s been chasing that crispy corner since.

Argentina’s massive Italian heritage gave it a wildly distinctive pizza — thick crust, an absurd, almost obscene mountain of mozzarella, often topped with fugazzeta (onion) and eaten with a side of fainá (chickpea flatbread). It’s heavy, cheesy, and unapologetic. Order it with a glass of moscato like the locals, which sounds wrong and tastes very right.

Hear me out. The American artisan movement, with Phoenix oddly at its heart thanks to Chris Bianco, took Neapolitan technique and pushed it with local ingredients into something new. Pizzeria Bianco is a pilgrimage spot. This is pizza as fine craft — small menus, perfect dough, obsessive sourcing. The thinking person’s slice.

The unexpected perfectionists. Tokyo has more certified Neapolitan pizzerias than you’d believe, and the Japanese commitment to technique means some of the most precise, faithful Neapolitan pizza outside Italy is made here. A Tokyo pizzaiolo who trained in Naples will out-Naples half of Naples. Obsessive, exacting, and quietly world-beating.

So who’s right? Nobody. That’s the joke and the joy of it. Naples has the soul, New York has the swagger, and the underdogs keep sneaking up with something brilliant while the big two bicker. The only correct pizza is the one in front of you, eaten too fast, slightly burning the roof of your mouth.

My final ruling, for the record: Naples wins on dogma, New York wins on the 1am slice, but New Haven’s charred clam pie is the one I think about when I can’t sleep. Fight me.

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