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The best beachside pizza-by-the-slice review

By Maggie Grainger

August 28, 2006

San Diego--“Have you noticed how there is different pizza for different moods?” my roommate shouted as she wiped a gooey strand of cheese from her chin. “Certain pizza just tastes better drunk. Some is amazing stoned and some pieces just taste good sober.”

We were sitting on a bench outside of Capri Pizza & Pasta (2909 Mission Blvd.) after a night out at Beachcombers and it seemed like everyone around us couldn’t scarf their pieces down fast enough.

“Which category does this pizza fit into?” I asked her as I took a bite out my crust.

“Well, since I’m faded, it tastes wonderful,” she said. “But I have a hunch that this would be pretty good sober, too.”

And with that, project “Find the Best Slice of Pizza in San Diego 2006” was officially launched.

The next morning I got online, ready to map out my pizza-consuming course of action. It didn’t take long for me to realize that there were more pizza joints in this town than college students, and I quickly renamed my endeavor “Find the Best Slice of Pizza in the Beach Areas 2006.”

It was early when my hung-over roommate and I jumped on our beach cruisers (with every intention of burning calories in between tastings) and headed to our first destination: Fat Boyz Pizza (728 Ventura Place) in Mission Beach.

Upon walking in, I noticed that everyone was stuffing their faces with extra large slices – and I’m talking huge – as in like three-pieces-in-one huge and slurping drinks just as hefty.

My roommate and I agreed to split a slice of Hawaiian ($5.75) and settled down to wait for a hot-out-of-the-oven slice of heaven.

Five minutes later, a piping hot piece sat in front of us. It was so big neither one of us knew where to begin.

I have to admit the first bite was pretty good, but I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly greasy it was – I mean, I could literally feel my arteries clog with each bite.

I grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed at the slice. The grease just soaked right through. Neither one of us could finish it before we decided to move on.

Official rating: 5 out of 10 stars

Luigi’s (3210 Mission Blvd.) is a cute restaurant and the food smells delicious. We settled down inside, ordered a slice of pepperoni ($6) and two pints of beer. (Hey, we needed fuel to get to our next destination.) The pizza came out pretty fast and we washed it down with our Bud Lights. Then we washed it down with two more.

Official rating: 7 out of 10 stars

By this point I was pretty buzzed and we decided to ride our bikes all the way down to Garnet Avenue and check out Filippi’s Pizza Grotto (962 Garnet Ave.). Filippi’s doesn’t sell by the slice so we opted to get a medium (Don’t ask me why.) and another pint of Bud Light. The pizza took a good twenty minutes to arrive and at that point we were so full of crabs that we could barely look at the MEDIUM pizza in front of us. Needless to say, we shelled out the $12.60, ate a bite (The cheese is excellent.) and asked for a box.

On the way home, I gave the rest to a homeless guy whose face lit up when he saw an entire pizza placed before him.

Official rating: Unable to give a fair and accurate score due to extreme fullness of belly.

It was getting late and this whole pizza idea was getting old. (Plus, we still had to ride back to Ocean Beach.) Capri’s was still my number one choice, but there was one more place I wanted to check out: Theo’s on Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach.

Taking a quick breather, we started the long trek from Mission to Newport. After locking up our bikes we headed inside and the aroma of fresh Italian food instantly hit my nostrils.

Despite all of the face stuffing I had done throughout the day, I had, surprisingly, worked up a little bit of an appetite.

I decided to try the special, a slice and a salad for $4.75, and my roommate decided to go all the way out to left field and ordered…lasagna.

“What!” She said as I looked at her blankly. “I seriously cannot bring myself to eat another slice.”

I couldn’t agree more, but I was doing it in the name of journalism.

We sat outside and watched the people walk up and down the street. By now, I was in a food coma. With each person walking by, I felt my eyelids sink lower and lower—until I heard the waitress yell “Maggie!” and I jumped up to get our food.

My pizza looked delicious and the roommate’s lasagna was incredible.

I bit into my last piece of Hawaiian for a very long time, chewed and swallowed.

Maybe I was just delusional at this point or maybe my taste buds just couldn’t decipher greatness anymore, but the piece was pretty damn close to near perfect.

I mean, the cheese was disturbed evenly, the toppings weren’t too sparse – and the crust wasn’t too soft or too hard.

I let out a sign of relief – I had found it. Last but not least, here on Newport Avenue, I had found the perfect slice of pizza heaven.

Official rating: 9 out of 10 stars

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