Jim Lahey’s Hell’s Kitchen bakery continues to serve some of the city’s top Roman-style squares. Bakers top pizza bianca with thinly sliced potatoes, cauliflower with chiles, and zucchini with gruyere, but best of all might be the Sicilian slice ($4.95). Long curls of onion, more spicy and salty than sweet, sit atop a slick of rusty tomatoes and puffy, faintly sweet crust. A dose of chiles cranks up the heat.

Michael Bergemann’s all-day bakery remains one of New York’s finest pizzerias, putting out naturally leavened slices forged from a blend of spelt and durum wheat. It’s not the type of setup that would necessarily lead one to order a Buffalo slice ($6.50), but indeed it might be the greatest version of that famous lowbrow pizza. Creamy ranch sauce and stretchy mozz soften the vinegar tang of saucy, spicy chicken, while a light crust keeps everything nimble and crunchy. Also try the classic margherita ($5.75), which uses a fragrant (and nut-free) basil pesto instead of wilted leaves. Those dining in can order any two slices and a drink for $13 after tax.

One could argue whether everyday commuters need a $5 slice at Moynihan Station, but make no mistake: The folks at Sauce make a damn fine Staten Island-style vodka slice ($5). A gently creamy tomato sauce mingles with decent mozz, while an ultra-thin crust, packing just the right amount of chew, allows for light, speedy eating. Shake some chile flakes over the slice to crank up the heat factor, just like one would do with rigatoni alla vodka. Note that Sauce offers a special of two slices plus a water or soda for $10.88 after tax.

One does not simply walk into Scarr’s pizzeria on a Friday night. You wait up to 30 minutes on a line that stretches halfway down Orchard Street. Owner Scarr Pimentel knows that slice pizza this good draws a crowd. He forges his naturally-leavened dough from house-milled wheat, resulting in good cheese slices ($3.75) and one of the city’s great pepperoni squares ($5.75). Funky, spicy slices of salumi sit above splotches of milky mozz, while the wonderfully chewy crust imparts both a sourdough tang and a hint of sweetness.

Owner Sean Feeney and chef Will Unseld aren’t experienced pie makers, but so it goes that their debut slice shop is an impressive addition to the crowded Williamsburg pizza community. Order anything, though pay attention to the particularly unique white slice ($5.25). The kitchen leaves out the traditional ricotta and instead layers a nacho sauce-like blend of fontina and parmesan over a base of mozzarella. It’s exceedingly rich, even with an airy crust, though lemon zest (and a lemon wedge on the side) tames the luscious dairy. Also try the dense, sfincione-like Sicilian slice ($5.25).

One of the great pleasures of modern Williamsburg is dropping into Massimo Laveglia, ordering one of the paper thin Roman-esque slices, and spending an hour or so lounging in the leafy outdoor dining area. Burrata slices ($5.50) show off a lovely contrast between cool, milky dairy and the warm tomato sauce, though the truffle pizza ($5.50) is one of the unexpected gems of this menu. Laveglia creates a bit of earthy alchemy out of salt mozz, good mushrooms, and a whisper of truffle paste. The truffles add a sweet perfume, while vinegar in the ‘shrooms helps keep the heady musk in check. Note that ordering via credit card incurs a 4 percent charge, and that take home boxes are $1 each, a fee that Laveglia says is to cut down on waste. Prices include tax.

Randy McLaren’s Bed-Stuy gem is the rare slice shop to look well beyond Italian American flavor combinations and instead focus on Caribbean and other assorted flavors. Jerk shrimp slices ($10) pack a serious wallop of pungent heat, while chopped-cheese slices manage to convey the meaty, oozy flavors of the bodega staple. But the true draw is the assortment of oxtail slices. A basic oxtail slice arrives with rich brown sauce; another comes slicked with a sweet chile glaze of sorts. Still a third involves curried oxtail, with sticky bits of meat mingling with a gorgeously green, onion-y, garlicky sauce.

New York has never truly celebrated clam pizza with the same fervor as New Haven, but make no mistake, F&F has created one of the great bivalve slices of our era ($7). There’s nothing fancy happening here, just good chopped clams, breadcrumbs, a lot of garlic, and mozzarella. Connecticut pizza makers like to omit the mozz, but it adds a wonderful stretch and saltiness to the slice, while the clams add a wicked undercurrent of brine and oceanic aroma.