Located in hilly Kingsbridge and boasting a big and comfortable dining room, BPP is deluxe for a neighborhood joint. The best slice wasn’t the Neapolitan pepperoni or the Sicilian cheese, but the lasagna slice, with gobs of mellow ricotta, splotches of sweet sauce, and herb-scented ground beef. You won’t miss the noodles. For a bigger meal and a spicy kick in the pants, try the chicken fra diavolo ala Rosa, one among many entrees served with spaghetti, ziti, or salad with garlic bread. The slogan of this delightful spot is, “The taste you always come back to,” and we will!

For 49 years Brother’s has occupied a prime spot in Fordham Manor, with the elevated 4 train towering overhead. The premises are very modest indeed. The plain slice is thin crusted and cheesy, and the sauce is practically unseasoned, which is just fine with me. Other pies beckon, more often available as whole pies rather than individual slices, including a lasagna pie, a salad pie, and a Hawaiian pie with ham and canned pineapple, a favorite in South America.

On the northern verge of Belmont facing Fordham University, this pizzeria has been a longtime favorite of students and working-class neighborhood residents. The topping selection is paltry by modern standards, but the plain cheese slice is truly excellent, with a thin and nicely browned crust, a tomato sauce that whispers rather than shouts, and a painstaking strew of cheese that makes for the perfect cheese-to-sauce ratio.

What a charming name! With a tip of the hat to Naples, this tiny pizzeria across the street from Tremont Park is usually thronged with locals enjoying the neighborhood’s best pizza. And this place doesn’t doll it up, either. There are two choices: a plain cheese wedge and a square, extra-thick Sicilian, unless you want pepperoni to be strewn across the top of your slice as an afterthought. The crust is the thing here, beautifully browned, with a little more dough around the circumference than you really need, in order to flaunt the crust’s excellence. And every morsel of crust gets eaten. Astonishingly, a whole 14-inch round pie can be had for $5.50.

The slogan of this Washington Heights pizzeria not far from Columbia Presbyterian Hospital is, “Keep this place in mind, a better pizza is hard to find.” Como is one of those tiny places where the main output is mainly cheese slices, with each pie being subdivided and scooped up the minute it comes from the oven. The crowd loves these plain pies, and you rarely see extra toppings, though if you consult the menu pies with names like Hawaiian, meat eaters, and genuine Mediterranean (eggplant, black olives, and “authentic feta”) are available. Founded 1963, near the start of the neighborhood pizza era.

Offering virtually no place to sit and eat, only a narrow shelf that runs around the room, Olga’s on Upper Broadway in Hamilton Heights is nevertheless mobbed during the day with neighborhood types, who use it as a sort of stand-up social club. The slice is uber-cheesy, the crust pale and doughy, the tomato sauce less profuse than usual, and yet it tastes fantastic, showing how a distinct point of view is always an asset to a great neighborhood pizzeria.

This mainstay with a self-congratulatory name sits just east of the South Bronx shopping district called the Hub. Open since 1958, it was founded at the dawn of the neighborhood pizzeria era, when the stacked pizza oven was first popularized, and the old-fashioned interior, with an order window on the street, shows it. The slices are thicker, with lusher toppings than usual, and the accommodating pizzaioli will ladle extra sauce on a slice at your request. Get the white spinach, which boasts clouds of soft ricotta and plenty of garlic.

Founded just north of Columbia University in 1998 by brothers Tomas and Eduardo Ochoa, this small pizzeria turns out spectacular cheese slices. The crust is ultra-thin and crisp, the cheese thicker than usual, and the tomato sauce merely a pastel background to the rest. The smell of fresh garlic knots suffuses the air, and there’s a second branch in Union City, NJ, in case you happen to be in the town that’s right across the Hudson River.

Mama’s Too is one of the new crop of neighborhood pizzerias that have reconfigured their slices to be more modern and innovative than that of the classic neighborhood pizzeria. (The place is related to a more conventional pizzeria on Amsterdam Avenue.) This is all to the good, you’ll realize as you survey the collection of square pies with rich crusts and atypical toppings. The pepperoni slice uses a small-bore sausage packed tightly on the slice, weeping paprika oil down on the crust. Other pies include caramelized onion and mushroom, and zucchini with Kalamata olives.

Pizzaiolo Sal Malanga opened this popular Upper West Side joint in 1959 and ran it until his death in 2011. His crust remains the quintessential element — "crisp on the outside and tender on the inside" as pizza fanatic Ed Levine once put it. Thereafter Sal’s grandson Lou keeps the place up and running, and the cheese slice is as good as always — great crust, with a tomato sauce and cheese that merge into a mysterious amalgam.

Sam’s is a throwback to the ’60s, when East Harlem was one of the city’s most prominent Italian neighborhoods. Now it and Rao’s are two of the few surviving institutions of that era. The place is narrow and efficient, and turns out a bigger range of products than seems possible given the small space. The pizza crust is especially thin and crisp (the dough is made on premises), and the regular slice is on the cheesy side with a big thick “bone” (circumferential edge). Among specialty slices, the three meat (pepperoni, bacon, Italian sausages) is especially fine and greasy, and the chicken parm slice a nice invention. Garlic knots A+.

This Upper East Side mainstay has been pumping out the slices since 1997, offering a sauce slightly sweeter and chunkier than average. Our favorite is the grandma, a square slice in the upside down formation, meaning that the cheese is on the bottom and the sauce on top, so that the imperially thin crust doesn’t get soggy. That the crust is also on the thin size for a square slice, and a little bit oily, is an added bonus, and so is the shredded basil sprinkled on top.

A mural of Venice graces one wall of this venerable Upper East Side pizzeria — with Superman flying overhead, looking for criminals. If you want to feel like you’re sitting in a real restaurant while scarfing your two slices and a soft drink, this is your place. And the quality of the pies makes it a destination spot, too. Our favorite is the grandma slice: In the square format, it displays cheese-on-the-bottom pizza-tecture, with splotches of herb-y sauce on top.

This commodious pizzeria just south of Central Park has deep Sicilian roots and the slices show it magnificently. The best offerings fall among the square-slices including the musketa, which features chopped tomatoes and onions on a thick bed of cheese; and the oxymoronic Sicilian margarita slice, which melts artisanal mozzarella and shoots splotches of tomato sauce over an exceedingly well-browned crust.

This pizzeria not far from the Broadway theaters treats its output like a dramatic event. Dating from 1994, it flaunts a long glass counter with a ridiculous number of pie choices. Sometimes you just need lots of meat, and the meat lover’s pie features sausage, bacon, and pepperoni. Other sporadically available pies deploy Portuguese chorizo, Philly cheesesteak, lemony chicken Francese, and Tex-Mex jalapeños and seasoned ground beef.

This agreeable East Side pizzeria offers a larger dining room than most and a sunny southern exposure. The slices are about average in thickness and crispness, with a tomato sauce rich and herbal but not sweet. Its forte is unexpected combinations of ingredients, including a great pepperoni and black olive slice that turns out to be fantastic. Plus, it's open at 8 a.m., seven days a week — in case you'd like a slice for breakfast.

Though it was established in 1981 and not long ago appeared timeworn, a more recent renovation has left this Astorian stalwart handsome and comfortable, a place to linger. The grandma slice is the one to get. Perfect for its type, it sports a lush and deep red tomato sauce, flecked with little bits of garlic and onion that add sweetness, and the cheese is exemplary, too.

Gianni’s is a classic 1980 Jackson Heights pizzeria, heavy on the Sicilian influences, with an ambitious menu, but a premises that says “pizzeria” rather than “fancy restaurant.” There’s a nice little backyard, and the thing to not miss is the Sicilian slice. The bottom side of the crust is brown and crisp, the crumb light as air, the sauce on the sweet side, and the cheese tumbles over the side like a waterfall.

There is a kind of modern neighborhood pizza parlor that flaunts its creativity, turning out oddball slices that seek to compete with other forms of fast food, either by poaching on their territory, or just by jumping up and down and shouting, "Me! Me! Me!" The sassily named Kiss My Slice does both, as seen by a careful examination of its epic fried chicken and waffle slice. The waffle has been minced into individual boxes, the fried chicken cut in cubes, and a drizzle of pancake syrup, probably constituting the first time syrup has been put on a slice of pizza. Pineapple-and-pepperoni is another strange slice choice.

Surrounded by Northern Chinese restaurants, Daro’s is tasked with fulfilling two pressing neighborhood needs: pizza and fried chicken, a combination common enough in Brooklyn’s Afghani-owned fried chicken joints. Here it seems like the pizza predated the bird, because the list of pies is far more sophisticated than the chicken menu. A case in point is the grandma slice, thin-crusted and utilizing fresh mozzarella, premium tomato sauce, and fresh basil — an herb not easy to find in these parts. Hot heroes are another strong point, especially the iconic egg and peppers.

This especially comfortable pizzeria is part of a Manhattan mini-chain, with a deep dark interior kept cool in sweltering weather, and mounts an enticing display of by-the-slice pies to lure passersby, some of them rather creative. Of several sampled, the one topped with pepperoni and canned jalapeños was the most enthralling, mouth-tingling in the best possible way.

Proving again that even today neighborhood pizzerias are opening up, Highline appeared not too long ago on the edge of Hudson Yards, peddling a menu of predictable slices with a few new twists. The pale crust is distinguished, and one of the best uses is in a pie topped with cubed chicken cutlet and fresh ripe tomato. This place floods with construction workers from nearby high-rises in the post-noon period.

While most of the neighborhood pizzerias we extol originated in the ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s, when the neighborhood pizza parlor movement was at its height, here’s a new one — founded in 2015 in Jackson Heights — that proves the formula is still sound. The inside is brightly lit, the counter is at the rear of the space, and one wall is decorated with white paper plates painted by young Mario’s fans. Garlic knots and grandma slices are better than most, but the plain cheese slice is the real triumph here, more thin crusted than most, with a thick coating of slightly sweet and herby tomato sauce painted on the crust, and an average amount of cheese. A great slice to eat while walking down the street, not too messy.

Flaunting a nautical theme, Pizza Bella stands out on Elmhurst’s Broadway among the mainly Southeast Asian cafes. The plain cheese slice is plain as plain can be, with a precise and carefully calculated inter-relationship of cheese, sauce, and crust. The crust itself is done to a premeditated brownness. This is pizza for folks who don’t like bells and whistles.

Founded in 1997, this Chelsea mainstay seems far older. The regular slice is especially tomatoey and slightly salty, best enjoyed as part of the $5 lunch special (two slices and a can of soda). On the other hand, then you’d miss the dense white broccoli slice, which features cloudy masses of ricotta and mozzarella. Seating is limited to a gleaming metal counter, and you should see the line that winds out the door during mealtimes! Are those Roy Lichtenstein prints on the walls? He once lived nearby.

Debuting in 1984 and occupying a distinctive corner location in Sunnyside, Marabella is proud of its Sicilian roots, as evidenced by the choice of art and maps on the walls. The ovens stand right inside the front door to make it easy to dash in and out for a slice. You should look no further than the fine grandma slice, which is square and thin-crusted, sporting fresh mozzarella and thick, sweet tomato sauce. Unique to Marabella are sandwiches (the pizzeria calls focaccia) made by splitting a thick wedge of pizza and piling it with chicken parm and other fillings.

We have a particular affection for pizzerias squished into tiny spaces, where the ovens dominated the visual landscape and a single employee serves as pie wrangler and clerk. Just down the block from an important subway stop, Village Pizza is just such a place, with a surprisingly large collection of slices for its cramped premises. The buffalo chicken is one the best, featuring a cut-up chicken cutlet and tart sauce that delivers a spicy and vinegary tang. Some say this slice was invented by pizzerias trying to get in on the football-party delivery action without actually doing wings.

Since 1968, this quaint pizzeria has lingered beside Elmhurst’s busiest bus stop. Quaint because the limestone-faced walls and carriage lamps make it seem a bit like a village inside. Vegetarian is the way to go here, via a series of pies in a separate case of slightly smaller circumference, including an eggplant slice that looks to be almost a quarter of a pie — a bit more expensive than most slices, but also encompassing square inches of pizza territory.

Located on the northern reaches of Manhattan Avenue, Triangolo is one of Greenpoint’s most distinguished neighborhood parlors. Look through the glass display counter and pick what looks best — on a recent visit, it was an extra thick slice with sauce and cheese, dotted with bacon, pepperoni, and ground beef. The cheese and spinach stromboli, with a particularly crisp crust, was also exemplary. Dig the lettering on the neon sign outside, and don’t miss the cryptic Steven Seagal shrine.

King of the neighborhood pizza parlors, Manhattan edition, Joe’s offers a slice magnificent in its plainness, appreciated by generations of New Yorkers and visitors. No frou-frou here, just a well-pureed sauce and just enough cheese — but not too much — and one of the city’s most perfect crusts. On the other hand, for just a bit more you can get the fresh mozzarella slice, with little annealed gobs of newly minted cheese. But the best-selling slice, according to a counter guy I talked to, is the pepperoni slice. Miraculously, new branches of this place near Union Square, Times Square, and in Williamsburg have not diminished its brilliance.

Yes, the swells head further down Greenpoint Avenue for Paulie Gee’s, a wood oven place with some weird and sometimes spectacular pies. Franklin is conveniently located just across the street from the historic Pencil Factory bar, so that you can see beer fans knocking off a slice or two before scampering across the street. Featuring both ricotta and mozzarella, the broccoli slice is a particular fave, and the drinkers all know that one constitutes a perfectly balanced meal.

Taken over not too long ago by a Chinese-Venezuelan owner, this pizzeria just off Queens Boulevard in Forest Hills was already a historic and fully functioning institution. Now it also serves overstuffed arepa sandwiches, fried and baked empanadas, cheese-stuffed cachapas, and other Venezuelan fare as a sideline. The pizzas, though, remain uncommonly solid, including a plain slice with extra cheese, a narrow bone (the bare outside edge of the slice), and a bland tomato sauce that makes this example typical of great neighborhood slices. Other more contemporary slices include the baked ziti, the Hawaiian, and the bacon chicken ranch, the last slice gobbed with salad dressing.

Proving that old-style neighborhood pizzerias are not a bygone phenomenon, Rosalia’s opened not long ago in Forest Hills, with the same owner as Luzzo’s in the East Village and Gansevoort Market. You can tell the proprietor is a Staten Islander the minute you bite into the spinach and artichoke slice: wads of spinach, a strew of chopped artichoke leaves and choke, little hills of melting ricotta, and a soupy greenish sauce. In Staten Island, the semi-liquid slice is king.

The crust is thicker, stiffer, and more browned at this Lower East Side stalwart founded in 1963. For the meat lover, there’s a slice with pepperoni and Italian sausage, buoyed by plenty of mozzarella. In fact, the pizzeria describes this slice and several others as deep dish, referencing a Chicago-style pizza rarely seen in New York, especially among neighborhood pizza parlors. We're lucky to be able to buy it by the slice.

Proving that neighborhood pizzerias are still viable, even as more expensive and pretentious pizzerias have become common, Champion is a mini-chain with a newish branch in Williamsburg. Sold by the slice, most of the pizzas are square, the crusts relatively thin, and done to a dark brown. Toppings are innovative, too, including one slice that features alternate bands of green pesto and red tomato sauce, like a Morris Lewis painting in the Museum of Modern Art.

Holding down an incredibly expensive corner location in Tribeca, Dona Bella ("Beautiful Lady") puts an almost surreal amount of energy into its eye-socking window display. The crusts on the Neapolitan slices are a little thicker than usual, the toppings moister and more opulently applied. A case in point is the wonderful mushroom slice, to which a great heap of ‘shrooms has been applied, and plenty of cheese, too. The round fresh mozzarella pie is also great, with big splotches of sweet tomato sauce.

Named after a famous piazza in Venice and dating to 1969, Williamsburg’s San Marco Pizzeria is perhaps the most beautiful and elegant establishment of its type. Seating is mainly at a polished granite counter that faces the pizza oven; a series of signs display the menu, for which there is no paper equivalent; and pies are restricted, for all practical purposes, to plain cheese and plain Sicilian. The cheese slice is austere, with a tomato sauce not the slightest bit sweet, and plenty of salty cheese, making it an entirely savory experience.

All Little Italy franchises are not the same. In fact, some are superb while others awful, with doughy crusts and lifeless tomato sauces. The City Hall branch is one of the great ones, and you can tell the minute you step inside and see the elated diners. A favorite slice is the carbonara, which features two kinds of cheese along with shards of prosciutto, making it one of the city’s few pies to utilize that cold-cut cooked. Open 24 hours.

Founded in 1977 in the shadow of the M and J tracks, this parlor is young in pizzeria years, but excels at all the classic pies and hero sandwiches. Some of the best things on the menu, though, show a Latin bent. For example, the miniature pie called an onion pizzette is about as close as you can get to a real Buenos Aires fugazetta. Other favorites include a spinach-ricotta slice that seems positively healthy, and an idiosyncratic take on a hot dog, wrapping it in pizza dough with melted cheese. Delicious!

How does a simple independent slice joint stay in business in the Wall Street area? By serving some of the best pizza in town in a somewhat shabby and abject location a few steps below street level. Nevertheless, this is a frequently recommended favorite among brokers, clerks, digital journalists, and non-profit wonks who labor in the neighborhood. The fresh mozzarella slice is especially enticing, with splotches of sweet herby tomato sauce, great mozzarella that doesn’t go all soggy, and a memorably crisp, browned crust.

This antediluvian Bushwick pizzeria that resides above the DeKalb stop on the L dates back to the days when this was an Italian neighborhood and its sausage roll was fabled. In terms of pizza, go for the Sicilian slice. It's thick and square and brown as a beetle, with little rivulets of sauce and cheese and a generous sprinkling of dried Romano for extra saltiness and flavor. It's worth traveling from another borough to try!

This ancient pizzeria, shuttered for nearly a year by Hurricane Sandy tucks way downtown in a Manhattan maritime location, a stone’s throw from the Staten Island Ferry. Around lunchtime lines are long. Slices are noticeably lush, with an average thickness, an extra-crisp crust and a nicely-browned bone or cornicione. A favorite slice features spinach and a tidal wave of cheese — but no tomato sauce. It's fit for a full meal.

Since the 1970s, when Bushwick was still an Italian stronghold, Tony’s Pizza has been turning out near-perfect pies on Knickerbocker Avenue, a stone’s throw from Maria Hernandez Park, once known as Bushwick Park. The slice is austere in its structure: the crust pale and thinner than most, but crisp; the sauce mild and only slightly sweet; the better-than-average cheese strewn with a generous hand. Devotees also extol the hot heroes, potato-lovers pie, and fried calamari.

What pizza parlor boasts outdoor seating in the back? This one in downtown Brooklyn does, and also a large dining room perfect for accommodating lunchtime crowds. The supreme slice is the one to get, with an unusually thin crust for a fresh mozzarella slice, browned more than most and hence crisp. The cheese is cooked a little more, too. This is an atypical take on a classic slice, and six or seven more slices are commonly available at any given time.

This stalwart on the edge of Fort Greene Park popular with Brooklyn Tech students offers neighborhood pizza with a distinctly Sicilian bent. The upside-down Sicilian has become something of a local legend — with the copious cheese nestling next to the crust, to preserve its adamantine crispness under the onslaught of the sweet, deeply red sauce.

Proudly proclaiming itself the oldest pizzeria on Smith Street (there’s really not all that much competition), Caruso’s also functions as an a Italian restaurant, with an expanded roster of pastas and dinner entrees. These are all fine, but the pizza is particularly good, including several round pies featuring fresh mozzarella. The pie called “fresh mozzarella” is the most engaging, and it can be made with the restaurant’s signature sesame crust, whereby the ridge around the pie is implanted with seeds, probably a practice of Sicilian or even Greek origin. Whoever invented it, the slice is absolutely great.

This newish Ocean Hill establishment is a branch of a long-running Canarsie pizzeria that’s been in the D’Arpa family since 1968, now being run by a third generation. Like the sign outside says, the mini-chain’s specialty is the Sicilian slice (only $2.50!), and you’ve never tasted better. The bread is thick and bouncy, but paradoxically light-textured, and the sauce in the typical Sicilian style is a little on the sweet side. In addition, there’s a strong taste of oregano, which may or may not be due to the Greek origin of many Sicilians. Other specialties include a delicious, sesame-seeded ground beef stromboli, pepperoni pinwheels, and meatball rolls.

Some say this sunken pizzeria on a side street was the inspiration for Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. Whether it was or not, the pizzas are damn good, with a slightly thicker crust than usual, and some fairly creative toppings. The margarita slice is memorable, pooled with fresh mozzarella and dotted with herbs, while the lasagna slice mimics that casserole with an insane amount of delicately seasoned ground beef and wads of fresh ricotta.

This quintessential Brooklyn pizzeria has seen progress overtake it. Where once its main feature was proximity to a police precinct, now it’s being engulfed by the nearby Atlantic Yards developments. For a neighborhood joint, it sure has a nice dining room, though perhaps a little more lit than you might like. The thing to get here is the Sicilian slice, which is nicely salty with more cheese than you usually get. The crumb is dense enough that one’s a meal. Salads are unexpectedly spot-on here.

Occupying a prime location right on Fulton, Pizza Chef is an ancient pizza parlor taken over by Muslim proprietors, who have left the interior intact but removed pork products from the menu. Instead, they lavish each slice with extra cheese, and do a special job on such local favorites as barbecue pizza: chicken chunks swimming in sweet barbecue sauce positioned above the cheese so the slice doesn’t get soggy — brilliant pizza architecture.

Proving how a pizzeria can anchor an entire neighborhood — in this case Carroll Gardens — Giardini is a daytime haven for hungry school kids, card-playing seniors, and shoppers dashing in for a fortifying bite. In the evenings, dating couples and families fill the space, which boasts an outdoor garden. The pizza is made with great thought and care; the grandma slice here is in the upside-down Sicilian format, with a wealth of cheese beneath the tomato sauce, and a crust so good you’d eat it by itself.

This pocket-size pizzeria right above the R stop at Union Street in Gowanus excels at modern notions of neighborhood pizza. Consistent with its name, the square, compact grandma slice is the one to get, with the cheese on the bottom, sauce on top, and several basil leaves imparting sweet flavor on top. The eggplant and chicken-ricotta pies are also worth sampling.

Jeez there must be dozens of pizzerias in the five boroughs named Tony’s. This one distinctively occupies a rather grand corner double-storefront with plenty of windows, through which the snow looks rather dramatic as it falls softly on Crown Heights. The stacked ovens turn out all the usual pies, and there’s also a sideline in jerk chicken, a neighborhood favorite. Torn into pieces, that bird goes on a slice, with some barbecue sauce striped on for extra sweetness. Hey, it’s good!

Just how many pizzerias named Luigi’s are there in the five boroughs? Plenty, we’re sure. Located in Greenwood Heights, this one (founded in 1973) functions as a sort of community center in a neighborhood increasingly uncertain how to define itself. The pizzas are especially good, with some relatively unusual toppings, including a wonderful pie with soppressata and jalapeños, fusing old and new aspects of the neighborhood.

What could be more perfect than a plain cheese slice, fabulously rendered? That’s the main output of Family Pizza on Flatbush Avenue. The crust is thin, but manages to be soft on the top and crisp on the bottom, a miraculous stratification in such a thin-crusted slice. The sauce is memorable by having no trace of sweetness; the cheese plain as plain can be. It’s as if the god of all pizza had asked that a slice be reduced to its simplest and most perfect formulation.

This Kensington establishment at the corner of Church and C.I.A. (Coney Island Avenue) has been around since the days of the original Rocky movie, and the interior — ablaze in neon — features boxing memorabilia. The plain cheese slice is great, but why not go for the more spectacular ziti slice. Contrary to type, it also features lots of meat sauce to go with the pasta, making it a real pizza-pasta hybrid. Just try to eat more than one slice.

Open since 1966 on Kensington’s main drag, Korner is a neighborhood pizzeria par excellence, with a corner location boasting garden-style concrete tables out front for scarfing your slices, calzones, pastas, and heroes in fine weather. The inside dining room with the usual wavy-benched orange booths is equally comfortable, the walls plastered with photos and other reminiscences of Sicily. The regular cheese slice is perfection itself, with a lighter-than-air crust, thin coating of tomato sauce, and an extravagance of good cheese. For vegans, the broccoli rabe hero is recommended.

Established in 1976, San Remo offers a deep dining room favored by Ditmas Park families, and all the usual modern pies, including lasagna pizza, the everything pie, deep dish veggie (Chicago style), Buffalo chicken pizza, and vodka pie. The best, though, is the grandma, a variation on the regular Sicilian with a thinner crust, a more herbal sauce, and black pepper. It’s scrumptious.

In an iconic Stapleton location across the street from Tappen Park, Bari’s specializes in an indigenous type of Staten Island pie that features dense, dairy-driven toppings. Shown here are two representative slices: One is a pizza-fication of the Philly cheesesteak, swamped with thin-sliced steak, caramelized onions and peppers, and a Whiz-type cheese; the other attempts to mimic a pasta Alfredo in slice form. Both are rich and taste better than they look. The pizzeria is named after the capital of Apulia, the homeland of many Staten Islanders and Brooklynites.

Placing it among the most ancient and venerable of early neighborhood pizzerias, which saw their heyday in the 1950s and 1960s, Pizza Wagon was founded in 1966. It possesses one of the most convivial dining rooms in Bay Ridge, and doesn’t bother with a vast range of pie choices. Thus, most slices are served still warm from the oven, and a favorite is the Sicilian (only $2.50!): with a crisp and light crust, plenty of sweet tomato sauce, and a thick mantle of cheese. Open late.

The upside-down Sicilian is star of the show at this classic Dyker Heights pizzeria (established in the ‘90s), which is more glitzy and comfortable than its brethren along New Utrecht Avenue, an ancient Dutch thoroughfare that dates to the 17th century. The slice in question is square, thinner, and crisper than most Sicilians, with the mozzarella next to the crust; the rich, thick, sweet tomato sauce on top of that; and a scatter of parmesan on top for enhanced saltiness and cheesiness. The garlic knots are especially good and so are the outsize, deep-fried rice balls, once again demonstrating Sicilian heritage of this excellent place.

Located right around the corner from Kings Highway — hence the name — this grandstanding pizza parlor is especially orange in décor and delivers equally bold flavor. The bacon slice is wondrous, carpeted with smoked and crumbled pork belly, a greater quantity than you’d expect. The standard slice is of average thickness, with more cheese than usual and a little less sauce. Between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m., a tsunami of students, construction workers, and tradespeople blow in and throng the tiny shop.

Lush, lush, lush, and thick-crusted, too, is the style of most Staten Island pizzerias (if you leave out places like Lee’s and Denino’s that specialize in cracker-type bar pies). Several notches above its neighborhood brethren, deades-old Pizza D’Oro (“Pie of Gold”) displays a glass case filled with pies that ramp up pizza’s richness, many available by the slice. One of the favorites is the lasagna pizza, multiplying cheeses and meats heaped high on the crust. Located in an old house now surrounded by a strip shopping center on the northwestern part of the island.

Situated in the midst of what is rapidly becoming the city’s fifth Chinatown, Bad Boys is a classic full-service pizzeria, rolling out such sidelines as baked manicotti, pepper-and-egg heros, and fried calamari. But the star of the show remains the pizzas, especially the fresh mozzarella pie with a soupçon of olive oil dribbled atop the cheese, and the square Sicilian, with a crust a little thinner and crunchier than most and a fragrant scatter of dried herbs.