The Great New York Pizza Showdown Emilio’s vs. Little Italy Pizza (A West Coaster’s Humbling Discovery)

Welcome to the New York Pizza Showdown

Ask any New Yorker where to get the best slice, and you’ll get an eye roll so deep it could cause seismic activity. My boyfriend — who grew up in the area and feels morally obligated to defend the honor of East Coast carbs — insists that there are no bad pizza or Italian restaurants in New York.

His exact logic: if a pizza place is bad, it simply ceases to exist. It gets eliminated from the food chain. Natural selection, marinara edition.

So naturally, our New York pizza showdown began the moment we stepped off the plane. Not on purpose. It just happens here — because a slice is never more than 20 feet away, and the smell alone will drag you in by the soul.

Stop #1: Emilio’s of Morris Park— The Icon, The Legend, The One With the Brisket Egg Rolls

Emilio’s isn’t just a pizza shop. It’s a culinary flex.

It proudly sits on the New York Times Top 25 Pizza list, meaning it has officially survived and thrived in the most competitive pizza arena on Earth.

Inside, you’ll find classics like margherita and pepperoni… but then things get weird. In the best way.

Brisket egg rolls.

Yes, you read that correctly.

If Texas BBQ and Chinatown had a baby and sent it to study abroad in Little Italy, this is what it would taste like.

And we ordered them. Obviously.

And yes — they were surprisingly good.

The pizza itself?

Excellent.

Generous sauce. Confident crust. Cheese that stretches like it’s auditioning for Broadway.

Emilio’s is the upscale contender in our New York pizza showdown — the place with options, creativity, and the vibe of somewhere you’d take friends to prove you know “real New York food.”

Stop #2: Little Italy Pizza — The Slice Shop That Stole Our Hearts

Now here’s where things get humbling.

You walk into Little Italy Pizza in Manhattan and there are exactly three things:

Pizza.

Drinks.

And people who are too hungry to negotiate anything else.

No brisket egg rolls. No long menu. No culinary identity crisis.

Just pizza.

But wow — this crust.

Light. Crispy. Full of tiny air pockets that crunch like they were engineered in a lab dedicated exclusively to happiness.

It reminded me of the kind of pizza you stumble upon by accident, eat standing up, and then immediately regret ever doubting a basic slice joint.

Little Italy Pizza doesn’t advertise. It doesn’t brag. It doesn’t need to.

It simply delivers a slice so good it makes the entire New York pizza showdown feel rigged in its favor.

The West Coast Reality Check

I love California.

I love avocado toast.

I love lemon-scented everything.

But let’s be honest: the East Coast invented pizza the way the French invented champagne — distinct, protected, and unapologetically superior.

My boyfriend’s claim that “there are no bad pizza spots in New York” suddenly felt less like bragging and more like science.

Because in our mini New York pizza showdown, there truly wasn’t a loser.

Just varying levels of greatness.

If Emilio’s is the refined, tuxedo-wearing big brother…

Little Italy Pizza is the younger sibling who shows up in a hoodie and still steals the show.

And the Winner Is…

We argued.

We debated.

We ate more slices than anyone should.

And still, the title of best slice in this New York pizza showdown goes to Little Italy Pizza.

Simple.

Classic.

Perfectly executed.

No frills.

Just flavor.

Though, to be fair… the brisket egg rolls at Emilio’s will haunt my culinary dreams forever.

New York Doesn’t Just Do Pizza — New York Is Pizza

If this trip taught me anything, it’s that New York isn’t playing around when it comes to pizza.

There’s a reason people defend “their slice” with a loyalty normally reserved for sports teams, pets, and childhood trauma.

Whether you’re grabbing something quick or sitting down for a full menu tour, the city delivers.

Every slice tells you the same thing:

“You’re in New York now. We don’t miss.”

So yes — the New York pizza showdown was a hit.

Yes — my boyfriend was right.

And yes — I will be humbly returning to California, accepting defeat, and craving that crispy Little Italy crust for the rest of my natural life.

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