Julian Geldmacher and Jake Serebnick traded the structured hierarchy of Eleven Madison Park for a wood-paneled storefront next to a Chinese supermarket, but the discipline remains in the dough. The crust here is naturally leavened sourdough, engineered to behave less like a standard New York slice and more like a baguette – airy, chewy, and substantial.
Inside, the room is stripped back to essentials: wood paneling, a steel dining counter, and a handful of mid-century rattan chairs. Because seating is limited, the space often feels compressed, with customers filling the gap between the entrance and the counter. Waiting is simply part of the transaction here – you line up to order, then find space to stand while the kitchen works through the ticket rail.
The menu applies fine-dining precision to familiar formats. The cheese pie uses aged scamorza alongside mozzarella to deepen the flavor profile, while the white pie swaps tomato sauce for crème fraîche, topping it with sweet onions, pancetta, and chives. For something heavier, the ’nduja pie is finished with fresh burrata and aged balsamic. While slices are available, the shop operates primarily as a whole-pie destination. If you plan to take your order elsewhere, be aware that they charge a small fee for the box.