It’s 3pm, I’ve just walked out of the fifth art gallery filled with weighty greats picked by Gagosian Gallery, David Zwirner, or Gavin Brown, and your passing a row of buildings by Frank Gehry, Zaha Hadid, and Thomas Heatherwick and deciding between a cocktail stop atop the Social, Manhattans newest rooftop bar perfect to watch the world end, or to silence the angry beast growing within and grab something else to eat.
At this point of a jet setting scheduled day your expecting one of the countless Michelin Star options within walking distance of Chelsea but my stomach has other needs.
It’s hungry and there’s only one thing that will silent it’s often nameless rage.
Pizza.
And there’s a no better place in the world to be when stomach sends that call.
Looking up to the sky I’m in the hunt for the bat signal of pizzas. No not the red roof of my child hood pizza huts, and no not the terrible orange pizza pizza signs that sadly dominate Canada’s pizza scene, I’m looking for the bat signal of signs, the red white and blue flag of pizzas, I’ve got my eyes set on the $1 Slice.
The $1 slice is the purest form the three essential ingredients can create. Thin crust, traditional red tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese.
Yea there are gourmet slice joints with their plethora of cheeses. The fantastic spreads of toppings from olives or sundried tomatoes, even serving up one of my favourites – roasted garlic. Then of course foodies would hang me for leaving out wood fire stone ovens with its formidable toasty delicate crunchy crust.
However dollar for dollar, bite for bite, the classic $1 slice is absolute perfection. Walk in, hand the guy a single USD, no change, no tax, he hands you a slice then walk your smiley ass back out to the grungy streets of New York.
For those not in the know, this is not a corporate gimmick exclusive to one chain or specific to only one neighbourhood. It’s an all American, any joint on the street can do it, all you gotta do is walk a block scarfing down one greasy slice and pop into the next one testing it for the subtle changes of that greasy slice.
By my math I can do this a up to four times before reaching the typical cost of other pizza slices which puts me well above what a normal human would consider a meal and definitely above my government suggested calorie intake.
But no no, this is America, and I’m Josh Nelson and this stomach is hungry for more, next stop, Jamaican Patty with coco bread. Who’s coming with me?
NOMAD SKETCHBOOK 