Zachary’s Pizza, the Holy Grail of tomato-sauce-and-cheese pie in the Bay Area, the very thing many believe Moses was reaching for in the ceiling painting by Michelangelo, is not available in Alameda. But there are many outstanding options that satiate those of us who consider pizza as central to the “pursuit of happiness” that the Founding Fathers included in the Declaration of Independence.
Pizza is a remarkably simple food—dough, sauce, cheese, and toppings. But as a professionally trained connoisseur of pizza, having eaten the finest thicks in Chicago, the best thins from NYC, the Square Pie Guys version of Motor City pizza, and having had pizza in a multitude of locales in Italy, I can tell you there is art and craft at an exceptionally high level in each sacred slice. There are nuances in the crust, thrilling tomato concoctions, sublime cheese choices, and various vegetables and meats decorating the top floor. To take on the task of sussing out the subtleties and naming the high five in a town where people love food is nearly an impossible task. But I’m brave, I know what I know, and I eat what I eat, so just accept now that I’m right about what I’m about to write.
The Alameata Pizza at 1400 Bar and Grill
1400 Webster Street, 1400barandgrill.com, 510-263-9651
To the vegetarians and vegans out there, to those trying to live and eat healthy, do yourselves a favor and skip to the next entry, because here we’re about to talk meat, pizza meat, and while it’s delicious to many, it’s not pretty to all. Many pizzas offer a pile of meat on the cheese layer, floating upon a sea of sauce, bordered by the dough, but there is something special, something flamboyant, about the pepperoni, house-made sausage and bacon, that the dark wizards at 1400 deploy on their pie of decadence. Each slice is a supreme canvas of cheese upon which the meat is laid out like holiday decorations on the Who’s best tree. Bite after bite of zing and awe and OMG. This pizza is dangerous, like an international spy tempting James Bond with a unique vavoominess, so much so that, honestly, I cannot eat it daily, or even weekly. I’m 66, trying to watch my weight and keep my cholesterol low, so it’s only on special occasions that I order this—and usually when my wife is out of town.
The Little Star at The Star on Park
1400 Park Street, thestaronpark.com, 510-832-7827
If you, like me, are sometimes too lazy to cross the bridge and leave Alameda—and no longer have a solid reason to visit Chicago—you can get a really good deep dish, The Little Star, at The Star. Now, why they named this pizza the Little Star is beyond me. Maybe they were embracing understatement, or litotes for those who took my AP Language class back in the day at EHS. There is nothing little about the Little Star. Star, yes, heck yes, as in the dough layers are phenomenal, the cheese between chewy and yummy, and the tomato sauce with tomato chunks that sparkle like red diamonds. This pizza is also fun, and gives even the most staid adults permission to lift a slice and stretch the mozzarella like they’re third graders, or like Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, who played with her gum as if working a trombone. The Little Star is also the only pizza I let myself eat with a knife and fork (aghast!) because when it arrives at your table, hot and bubbly and gooey and wow, you do not want to risk spilling anything. So yeah, go ahead, cut it, raise it, gobble it, repeat.
Any lunchtime slice at Marley G’s Pizzeria
1330 Park Street, marleygspizza.com, 510-227-5521
As a retired Encinal teacher, I try to keep my jealousy of the AHS community in check. So let’s not talk about how they had a lighted football field first, or have those awesome columns, and two real theaters vs the gym and cafeteria stages our actors have to trod. But when Scolari’s opened up Marley G’s Pizzeria, literally a block away from the Hornet Campus, I thought whoa, enough is enough. So while the EHS kids have to hustle a mile to get food on Webster—Santoro’s Deli being a scrumptious nearby exception—their black-and-yellow clad counterparts can make it to Marley G’s in maybe three minutes, more if they’re on their phones and walking slowly. And when they get to Marley G’s, entertained in line by a cute poem on the left wall written by an adorable local poet, they are able to get an incredible slice of pizza for about five bucks. And we’re talking about a large slice, the kind made famous by Blondie’s Pizza on Telegraph in Berkeley. Great sauce, served quick and terrific on paper plates with parmesan and peppers available in nearby shakers.
The Big Giant Super Bowl Pizza at A-Town Pizza and Kabob House
2327 Blanding Avenue, atownpizza.com, 510-522-7575
The extent to which I enjoyed their party sized pepperoni pizza is such that I do not in any way hold the makers of the meal responsible for the San Francisco 49ers 25-24 loss to the Kansas City Chiefs in last year’s Super Bowl. This even though the young person who took my phone order, then handled the payment in person, was wearing not the red and gold of the locals, but the red and white of the meanies who beat my team for the second time for the Lombardi Trophy. In fact, while watching Patrick Mahomes do his thing, rallying his dudes for an overtime win, there was consolation in eating this surprisingly good pizza. I say “surprising” because A-Town is not in a fancy location, is not fancily decorated, does not have a Roman emperor to help promote their food, but is still a really good pizza and reasonably priced. What they do have is arguably the best name for a pizza place, or any place, in Alameda, A-Town. Even at my age you feel cool calling in your order, cool picking it up, and cool when someone asks, “Hey, what did you eat on Super Bowl Sunday?” and I can say, my tears having dried up, “Bruh, we got a pizza from A-Town.”
Square Sliced Pizza at La Val’s Pizza
891 Island Drive, Suite E., lavalspizza.com, 510-521-7711
God made pizza triangle shaped so you know where to start eating, at the point where the equilateral sides meet. Except at La Val’s Pizza you have the option of forgoing the three-sided geometric shape and get a pizza where the pieces are squares or more accurately rectangles (though not a rhombus). Yes, they make round pies that slice in a more familiar fashion, but when you need a pizza large enough to feed your kids and the neighbors and you’re on Bay Farm, you gotta go party-size and that baby comes with two parallel sides of two different lengths—a rectangle. Now, this does present the challenge of deciding which corner to bite first, and herein is where the chomp artists have fun. Some bite a corner, then work their way inward, risking getting sauce on their lips and cheeks. Others nip off each corner, turning the pizza slice into something resembling an older fashioned raffle ticket. No matter your technique, the result is a really good pizza that pleases in a solid, consistent way. When my kids were little we ate at La Val’s often, but they grew up and moved away. A few years ago I was feeling nostalgic and got a party-size plain cheese, took it home, loaded my plate, then sat back and grinned because it tasted exactly the same. Sigh, yum, another slice please.
Special honorable mentions to a few other places in town: Mountain Mike’s Mt. Veggiemore, anything at East End, and Little Caesar’s when you need pizza quickly for actors.
Gene Kahane is the founder of the Foodbank Players, a lifelong teacher, and former Poet Laureate for the City of Alameda. Reach him at [email protected]. His writing is collected at AlamedaPost.com/Gene-Kahane.
