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.