Things you do not want to see when walking up to Co.: darkness, chairs flipped up on tables, lack of humans, lack of pizzas.
Last Monday I spent my whole day thinking of thin crust pizzas covered in plops of buffalo mozzarella and other delicious things in anticipation for eating dinner at Co. (or, as Greg likes to refer to, Kump, as to not confuse it with Ko) with Greg, Lee Anne, and Nick. What's the big deal about Co.? It's run by Jim Lahey, the bread making genius behind Sulivan Street Bakery, home of one of my favorite slabs of dough in the world: pizza bianca.
I've already been to Co. once—I loved it—but wanted to take another trip and increase my library of pizza memories before blogging about it. Alas, it is closed on Mondays (and Sundays). Now I know. And now you know: Do not go to Co. on a Monday night and misguide three pizza-ravenous friends in the process. :(
"We could try Una Pizza Napoletana," suggested Greg—but we found out that it is also closed on Mondays. We came to the conclusion that somewhere in the city all the upper-tier pizzaiolos of Manhattan were having a Pizza Makers Bowling Night, and this was why we couldn't get our desired pie on a Monday.
The only other place I could think of going to in the area that could fulfill our pizza craving and didn't suck was Pizza Suprema. Located on 8th Avenue a block below the architectural atrocity of Madison Square Garden/Penn Station, it's not an area where you would expect to find a good pizzeria—or good "anything." The area is drab and has no enticing characteristics, unless you want colon hydrotherapy or fancy a drink at a bikini bar. I'm probably lucky that I've become numb to the scenery having made the walk between Penn Station and the Serious Eats office at 27th Street countless times.
Unfortunately, Pizza Suprema fits right into the scenery. You could pass it a gazillion times and never know that behind its doors are balls of sweet, fresh mozzarella waiting to top a pizza and get in your belly. My pie of choice is the fresh mozzarella with basil, topped with their house made mozzarella, tomato sauce (on the sweet side), romano cheese, basil leaves, and extra virgin olive oil. Everything is in just the right proportions for my taste. If you want a pool of grease sitting on a thick, molten bed of too much cheese, you'll have to go elsewhere. That kind of pie = the pizza of my childhood. I feel like that's only appropriate if you're trying to undo a hangover.
The crust is thin, crisp, and slightly chewy, not at all weighed down by the toppings. Nothing to complain about here.
We each ate two slices without a problem. I could've eaten a third (and a fourth) if I really wanted to, but two is just enough. Remember our friend moderation? ...Yeaaah...no...
Afterward, Greg, Lee Anne, and I went to L'Arte del Gelato for dessert. I went with the mildly tart yogurt and berries gelato and the more tart, in a different way, orange and lemon sorbet. Thumbs up for both—most of L'Arte's fruity flavors are great, along with anything nutty.
Great pizza and gelato—that's my ideal Italian meal.