The quest continues for the perfect pie, and last night’s came awful darn close: the Pizza Diavola at Luzzo’s on First Ave presented luscious tomato sauce, just enough mozzarella, thin spicy salami slices, and basil, and all that on a deliciously chewy, appropriately thin (but not too thin) crust slightly burnt around the edge. Italian-owned and operated to boot. Wow. So the praises are many but the quibbles are three: 1) If my partner’s Diet Coke came with a slice of lemon, why didn’t my Coke come with a slice of lemon too? 2) Why should a pizza, however heavenly, cost $23? 3) Why oh why does this superlative pizzeria have to be stuck in the East Village — after all these years, still the only part of downtown that makes you want to take six showers just thinking about it.
Andiamo, fellas: let’s move it west.