the definitive vegas pizza.

One of my earliest Vegas food memories is munching on two slices of New York-style Verrazano Pizza, a tiny shop on North Rainbow Boulevard. It's pretty straight-ahead pizza, wide slices of cheesy, thin-crust goodness. The place was mostly oven, always hot as hell with a frequently broken soda machine, but located conveniently within a quick bike ride for an 11-year-old trying hard to get acclimated to desert life. There had been plenty of pizza before Verrazano, and even more after, but that slice was genre-defining. So it goes with childhood, no?

The original pizzerias of Las Vegas were all from New York. There were three: Villa Pizza started in 1976, Verrazano in 1978, and Metro Pizza in 1980. All three grew into multiple locations around the valley, some of which are still operating today, and many more similar and different pizza shops soon followed. For Carmine Vento, the man behind Villa, selling pizza by the slice turned into a mammoth operation, a national franchise he sold in 2000. Vento still works in the restaurant biz in Vegas, licensing his brand to some and operating others (Carmine's Pizza Kitchen). Verrazano is still around in various forms, perhaps adrift in a sea of pizzerias pitching the ubiquitous New York slice. And of course, we've got a new breed of pie in Vegas, gourmet coal-fired pizzas and certified Neapolitan pizzas and all kinds of stuff. I've been eating them. They're all delicious.

But if there's a pizza shop that is truly Vegas' own, it has to be Metro. It's not because this is the best in town, though it certainly needs to be part of that conversation. Metro Pizza is simply tied to this city in a way very few restaurants are, linked to the families and people who work and grow up in Las Vegas, connected to a community and culture that so many claim doesn't exist. I remember trips to Metro's Flamingo-Decatur location, in all its 1980s, teal-pink-and-checkerboard glory. This is the oldest of its five local stores now. This was special occasion pizza when I was in middle school, when delivery from Domino's or Pizza Hut just wouldn't cut it.

But others have deeper, stronger connections. "Vegas was still small in 1980. Back then kids would ride horses to our first shop at Flamingo and Sandhill." Riding horses to pizza! You never thought that would happen in Las Vegas, did you? John Arena, co-owner, co-founder and overall pizza guy, has so many stories like this. "We changed that crazy decor at the Flamingo-Decatur store a while back, but people didn't recognize it anymore. They thought there was a new owner. So we changed it back. We have customers that came to us when they were in high school in 1980, and they're coming in with grandkids now. It's a very unique responsibility, to be here for multiple generations, and to live up to those expectations. If you ate this pizza as a kid, you're expecting a certain level of quality and service when you come back as an adult."

If you haven't figured it out yet, these people keep coming back for reasons other than nostalgia. The love of longtime Las Vegans, though powerful, is not what makes Metro undeniable. It could be that they put bacon on their Hawaiian pizza, or the eggplant calzone that's named after George Steinbrenner, or the fact that one slice of the Skyline stuffed pizza with sausage, onions, peppers, pepperoni, black olives and mushrooms is enough for two tasty meals. But it's not any of those reasons.

Arena, from Brooklyn, loves pizza, and he understands why and how everyone else loves it, too. He's traveled the world learning as much about this perfect food as he can, and he teaches a class about its history at UNLV. "In Las Vegas, you have customers from all over the country, all over the world, and they're not tourists. That's who lives here. You've got all these different people, and all these different opinions about pizza. I call it the Cognitive Theory of Pizza - what you're given as a child shapes your vision. People will say only pizza from Naples is true pizza, but the people of Rome would disagree. Purists say pizza shouldn't have to adapt, but there's a long tradition in Italian food of just that. We realized you could have endless debates depending on the current circumstances of pizza, so what we decided to do is embrace it all and find some common ground. We changed our name to Metro Pizza in 1986 to reflect that philosophy, and try to reflect the great pizzas of many different metropolitan areas, because in Las Vegas, everybody is from somewhere else." Could anything possibly make more sense? So when you order a Modesto or a New Haven off this menu, that's because Arena found something like that in that city, and he thinks you'd like a taste. At the Metro store on Tropicana near UNLV, there's a big map of the Pizza Hall of Fame, different cities with famous pizzerias marked. If you go eat at one of them, and then come back and talk about it, Metro will hook you up. Arena wants you to eat other pizza. He wants to teach you to make your own pizza. And yet you likely will return to eat his pizza. (It's good.)

"When you're putting a pizza on the table, you're not just competing with other pizza places, you're competing with all those childhood memories and all those associations. When it comes to pizza, there's a lot more going on that what's on the plate." I tell Arena about my associations, my slices of Verrazano, and how the mayor of Las Vegas once told me he couldn't find anything close to his back-home stuff so he called Metro and asked them to figure out how he could eat Philly pizza in Vegas. "His favorite pizzeria back home was using a very particular cheese blend, and that was his touchstone pizza. It's just like you, riding your bike to Verrazano. You probably got your first taste of personal freedom along with that pizza. It's the same way everyone's grandma makes the best food they ever had in their life. That's how people feel about pizza, and that's the responsibility I have ... to live up to all of that." I'm glad this pizza guy is taking his responsibilities seriously.

pizzathon.

Note: An edited version of this post appears in Las Vegas Weekly.

DAY ONE: IT BEGINS

We can do this. It’ll be a breeze. Technically, we’ve done it before. I worked at a Godfather’s in Reno during the college days. For an entire summer, I made the wrong pizza just before my kitchen shift was over. Oops, guess I have to take that one home. And Maria’s father is crazy. He once put the entire family on an all-pizza diet and used it as an excuse to perfect his homemade recipes. After two months of pizza she was relieved to eat other things, but her dad still craved it as much on day 60 as he did on day one. Suffice to say, we love pizza, at least as much if not more than the general population. The fact that we refuse to eat Pizza Hut, Domino's, etc., is reason enough for me to believe we love it more than the average American. So here we are, enjoying some great pizza at Streets of New York in northwest Vegas, deciding this is the beginning of a week-long pizzathon. For seven days our only meals will be pizza, and we will enjoy every melty, spicy bite. This is a good place to start, because not only is the crust crispy and delicious and the tomato sauce slightly sweet, but we’re washing these two pizzas down with huge, frosty Shock Top Belgian White brews. Draft beer with pizza is an important factor. I'd say you can't have a proper pizza parlor without it, and you need to be able to order it by the pitcher. It may be a chain operation, but Streets of New York obviously respects the beer and an old fashioned experience. Plus, it's located in the Village of Centennial Springs, a near-empty retail walk built to look like Main Street USA, so the nostalgia cometh.

But the pizza is the important thing and this place does it right. There are some weird toppings to choose from, and plenty of other goodies on the menu like sandwiches, salads and calzone. If you're looking for a classic pizza experience in Vegas, I'd say there's good old Metro Pizza and then there are these guys ... flat-out good food.

DAY TWO: TACO PIZZA?
This Sunday morning finds me working in my brother’s backyard, shoveling rocks to augment his landscaping. It sucks, but luckily there’s fuel: leftover pizza in his fridge. I inhale a couple pieces, still cold. The cheese and sauce has congealed into spongy mush. It's gone before I think to ask where he got it from: Rosati's.

Diversification is going to keep this thing rolling. It can’t be all pepperoni. Enter the taco pizza, one of Maria’s favorites. She’s a longtime fan of this oddball delight, thanks to her Midwestern roots and a place called Happy Joe’s. This place actually serves a variety of Mexican pizzas, but the Taco Joe has a sauce of marinara mixed with refried beans, taco seasoned beef, sausage and white and yellow cheese, and then after the oven, shredded lettuce, tomato and crumbled tortilla chips. Our Vegas version is from Red Rock Pizza, which also boasts a variety of specialty pies. Its Taco Nacho pizza has seasoned ground beef, jalapenos, tomatoes, crunchy corn chips and two cheeses, so Maria says it’s close to home. “Interestingly, the tomatoes and lettuce are cooked on the pizza, under the cheese. I imagined this would be a huge mistake, but somehow it’s not,” she says. It’s seriously heavy, too, leaving plenty of leftovers for dinner. “It re-warms magnificently,” she says, and I agree. “After a few minutes in the oven it was fully restored to its tasty glory.”

DAY THREE: DOWNTOWN, THEN DEEP DISH
I work downtown. I have a few minutes for lunch and a five-dollar bill. That’s the exact cost of two slices of cheese and a can of Coke at Uncle Joe’s on Fremont Street. The paper plate isn’t big enough to accommodate these thin, greasy-in-a-good-way, New York-style beauties. A dash of crushed red pepper and they’ve disappeared.

Later, an impromptu celebration with friends is the perfect excuse to order way too much pizza. Rosati’s takes a while but eventually delivers a Chicago-style veggie and two thin-crust pies cut into square pieces (one pepperoni, green pepper and black olive, one Bianco with olive oil, tomato, garlic and spinach). The deep-dish is a beast and draws comparisons to lasagna from the uninitiated. The thick crust is filled with mushrooms, onions, green peppers and tomatoes, then covered in mozzarella and topped with pomodoro tomatoes. It’s got to weigh at least five pounds and I can barely take down a whole slice. I don't know how I feel about this Chicago business ... Maria loves it but I have a hard time comparing it to New York-style or Neapolitan-style pizza. It really is a different breed, one that hurts for a few days.

DAY FOUR: LEFTOVERS
Pizza is the best kind of leftovers. I know this for a few reasons, including: It’s great cold and it’s great reheated. (But only in the oven. The microwave is powerless here.) More importantly, it’s the only leftover Maria willingly consumes. This is ridiculous. Even if I bring home half a $50 steak, I have to cook it into something new to trick her into eating. But not pizza. Straight out of the fridge is just fine. So today is spent picking and munching at various pieces from the previous night’s feast. The deep dish holds up better the next day. “I’ll tell you why,” she says. “Because the little pizzas have to go in the oven to make them crispy and good again, but the big pizza is delicious even from the microwave.” Blasphemous.

But when dinnertime rolls around, I’m craving something fresh, so I stop at a tiny takeout joint on the way home and order the first thing that catches my eye. It’s got plenty of mozzarella and cheddar cheese, pepperoni and sausage, but it’s too ordinary and the white garlic sauce is … off. “It tastes tangy and weird,” Maria says. Still, I ate the whole thing. Maybe this is my second wind.

DAY FIVE: FROZEN IN TIME
We still have enough leftovers for breakfast and lunch, but by the afternoon we’re in need of something new. An attempt at frugality leads to the frozen section at Whole Foods. We leave with two Frontera brand pizzas, one roasted vegetable, Monterey jack cheese and poblano, the other a four cheese blend with tomato and cilantro. They crisp up nicely, but there’s no trace of poblano, cilantro or anything that tastes remotely fresh or Mexican. It’s still frozen pizza. We’re not sure if we should be mad at super chef Rick Bayless or not for these bland creations.

DAY SIX: LOST
I think I’m hitting the pizza wall. Everything is starting to blur together. Another couple of cold slices for breakfast, another couple of greasy, cheesy slices at noon. Maria switches it up with a pizza Hot Pocket for lunch. “The little cardboard thing didn’t really crunch it up, but I was really hungry,” she says. I stop at Albertson’s on the way home from work and the supermarket has never been more confusing. In the frozen aisle, some weirdo talks to me: “Wow, Freschetta for $4.99, that’s off the chain, huh?” I want to punch him. I end up at home baking a California Pizza Kitchen “Sicilian” thing and piling some microwaved barbecue brisket on top. This is going bad, real fast.

DAY SEVEN: FINISHING STRONG

I’m having problems, but Maria seems relatively unfazed. I’m hungry, but I can only eat pizza. No matter how creative we get, it’s still pizza. And I’ve learned that great pizza can be as satisfying as any gourmet meal, while bad pizza is truly terrible. So to wrap it up, we’re going to a sure-fire winner, Grimaldi’s in Henderson. I keep it simple with extra mozzarella and meatball, and like she always does, Maria out-orders me with pesto, tomato and roasted red pepper perfection (pictured). The sweet peppers with Grimaldi’s signature homemade mozzarella are pure bliss. I've written it before but it rings true every time I'm out in Henderson ... this is the pizza capital of the valley. Grimaldi's may not do true Italian the way Settebello does, and the crust may not be perfect every time, but it's so close. And the cheese is so unique and fresh, it almost makes a Summerlin dweller wanna move across town.

Thanks to reliably great pizza, we are rejuvenated. We could keep this marathon going if we wanted to, just as long as we stick to certain spots ... and stay out of the frozen food section.

balboa pizza company.

Update: Pie Town Pizza has closed.

The best pizza in Las Vegas is actually in Henderson.

Though the Review-Journal's annual readers' poll typically results in a Vegas mainstay like Metro Pizza getting the honors, Settebello is the obvious choice. But it's not the only great pie in the city of Henderson. While I tend to believe Henderson is a little behind some of our other suburban communities when it comes to great food in the neighborhood, Vegas pizzerias have some catching up to do. Grimaldi's on Eastern is great. Pie Town on Green Valley Parkway allegedly has the best Chicago deep dish around. And while it's hard not to hit Settebello if you're in the vicinity of The District at Green Valley Ranch, it has another completely respectable joint in Balboa Pizza Company.

The District, that walking-and-shopping destination connected to the Green Valley Ranch Resort, seems to be dying with the rest of the retail world. That's not good news for the mostly franchised restaurant options here, and Balboa always has been kinda sleepy. But it does boast an easygoing surf shack vibe, a small but comfortable patio and an adequate bar. Most everything on the newspaper-print menu is tasty. Pizza here is thin crust and individually sized, but one pizza is the perfect size for sharing, especially if you're augmenting your meal with some of the best chicken wings in town: Big, meaty, slightly crispy on the outside and available in some fun flavors like Thai Peanut and Hawaiian BBQ. Pizza toppings are pretty standard but also reflect some California Cuisine weirdness -- barbecue chicken, roasted vegetables, etc. The Tostada pizza has ground beef and sausage, pico de gallo, refried beans, guacamole and cilantro. There's also the Wedge pizza, more or less a calzone.

In simple straight-up pizza comparisons, Balboa's reminds me a lot of the thin crust from Rosati's Pizza, an Illinois-based franchise that has taken hold in Vegas over the last year and was the staff pick in the previously mentioned Best of Las Vegas poll in 2009. Crust is important, and it seems more and more local pizzerias are discovering that crispy/chewy balance.

INTERVIEW: Oscar Goodman

MenuVegas' very first interview is with the Happiest Mayor in the Universe, Oscar Goodman.

You've been in Las Vegas for a long time. How have you seen the dining landscape change over the years?

Oscar Goodman: I've been here forever. I came here in 1964, and back in the old days the only place to get a steak was Bob Taylor's Ranch House. And you had to psyche yourself up for the 20-minute drive to get out there. It was the only game in town.

And now you can get anything, anywhere, anytime.

Absolutely. When you look at statistics from the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority, it shows empirically that as for why people come to Las Vegas, number one, they come to shop, and the second reason is for food.

You grew up in Philadelphia. Ever get cravings for a great cheesesteak?

You know what I miss most is my Philadelphia pizza. I miss it every day.

What's Philly pizza like?

I can't figure it out. It just tastes better. I do miss my cheesesteaks from Pat's and other places I used to go to.

You can't find any pizza in Vegas like back home?

Well one thing I can do is call my friends over at Metro Pizza, and if I tell them about a place in Philadelphia, they'll call that place and ask how they make their pizza, and then they'll try to do it that way.

If instead of being mayor of Las Vegas today you were still a defense lawyer representing certain clients...

Reputedly.

Right, those guys. Where would those guys eat and hang out today?

That's a good question. That wasn't that long ago. But where they would go to have their business meetings, so to speak, would be the back room at Piero's, which is still around today.

Where's the downtown Vegas power lunch spot?

The Triple George Grill is very strong. Another place that's picking up is Hennessey's, on the corner of Fremont Street at the old Race Rock. Those are the two spots. But then you also have Chicago Joe's, still going strong. They have such a presence downtown. You want to know a real sleeper, one of my favorites? The Philly cheesesteak place on Fremont Street. It's an old greasy spoon, frequented only by myself and the homeless.

Do you eat out often? Do you like to try new restaurants?

I'm a man of habits. I have my places I go to. I love my wife's cooking the best. She's the best short order cook I've ever seen. She can come home dead tired and whip up a meal in a half-hour better than any place on the Strip. But we usually eat at ethnic places. We'll go to Fellini's for Italian, Hedary's for Mediterranean, Diamond China for Chinese and Lotus of Siam for Thai food. I recently had to give a speech at The Hotel at Mandalay Bay and I walked through the shopping area there (Mandalay Place), and they had some restaurants in there that looked phenomenal.

I don't want to ask you this but I have to: who mixes the best martini in town?

I do.