The title screen–a floppy cheese pizza–along with the familiar theme song–an Italian accordion riff–fades as Prez, A.K.A. Dave Portnoy, steps out of one of seven hundred ninety six pizza places that have featured on Barstool Pizza Review (One Bite Reviews). Prez, dressed absurdly as always and armed with a pizza pie, strides up to cameraman “young Frankie” and spits out his line “one bite, everyone knows the rules.”
It’s clear that this coronavirus-themed spring break will not “be a movie,” (nor will the virus be dealt with by Easter, as our POTUS fantasizes) but break and the rest of our quarantine time may still be salvaged. Cooped up inside, I know we turn to our streaming services: Netflix, Hulu etc… Instead of watching On My Block and Love is Blind to relieve boredom, I commend One Bite Pizza Reviews.
El Presidente’s show has all you could want: dramas, plenty of funny moments, and a terrific cast (it may even satisfy your wanderlust, though suburban NJ and CT aren’t exactly vacation hotspots). Prez, along with the more demure Frankie, races around the Northeast (but chiefly New York City and environs), eating pizza and handing out analytical 0-10 ratings. (These are not arbitrary scores–the “flop,” firmness of the crust, concentration of cheese, concentration of sauce, and thinness of a pizza, among other qualifications, all are weighed.) Each review takes place directly outside of the pizza place Dave is judging. There’s no fancy editing or musical soundtrack. Prez clogs up sidewalks, devours pizzas with large, self-consciously coarse bites and offers free slices to pedestrians. After dishing out his score Dave often tries to palaver with the pizzaiolo (the one who makes the pie) of the place where he’s chowing down.
Dave’s conversations with pizza makers are the crux of the show. In his quest for the best pizza, Dave comes upon remnants of the Italian-American immigrant past. Many of his (and his audience’s) favorite joints are run by veteran pizza makers. Like Al Santino, 63, a third generation New Jerseyan who runs, by himself, family-owned Santillo’s Brick Oven Pizza, opened in 1918. From the Italian slang he lets Dave in on, to the way he makes his pizza in an ancient oven, everything about tough guy Al is classic Italian-American. To Al Santillo, pizza is an art form. Al, though, is just one of many prideful and lively pizzaiolos who talk with Dave during his reviews. The owner of Pizza Sam in Jackson Heights, Queens—another old school Italian-American—almost matches the tough guy talk of Jersey Al, but he comes off as less macho. Pizza Sam’s big man reveals a soft side, telling how his weekend was weighed down by a “a ghost from the past,” and when he hears Dave’s 8.4 score (a very high at one at that) he nearly tears up. Another proprietor, Mikey Nuzz from Clinton, CT talks up his heritage. Pointing to his shirt with crossed American and Italian flags, Mikey proclaims “American first, Italian always.” Veteran pizza makers tend to invoke their family histories and these stories intertwine with the history of Italian immigrants in the U.S.
It may seem, though, that these pizza makers are living anachronisms. As Al Santillo puts it, he’s “the last of a dying breed.” But the world evoked by other episodes of One Bite is dynamic and lively. A realm filled with current controversy and intrigue. When Dave reviews Joe’s Pizza on Carmine St. he learns that Carmine location is embroiled in a legal battle over legitimacy with multiple Joe’s Pizzas in Brooklyn. The beef is serious, as the owner of the Carmine’s Joe Pizza says, “blood is thicker than water, and mozzarella is thicker than both.” The pizza place drama doesn’t stop there. Dave follows the Manhattanite rivalry between Made In New York Pizza and Prince St. Pizza. When he goes to Made In New York Pizza he finds out that Prince Street Pizza is accusing their ex-pizza maker of stealing their secret recipe and using it at his new joint. There’s also the West Haven pizza battles, which make that region a site of light-heavy controversy. The inclusion of such war stories amp up Dave’s capacity to evoke the drama of the pizza culture he’s part of. Dave, by himself, is entertaining, but it’s his interactions with pizza makers and eaters on the street that open up One Bite Pizza Reviews, lifting it above irreal reality shows. There are figures who come across Dave as he’s holding forth, talk back to him and keep walking. Others stick around and become fixtures on the show, like Dave’s sidekick Debbie the Uber Driver. The first time we meet Debbie, she seems a bit old fashioned: “I hate them [juuls], I can’t get the Marlboro taste.” But her frankness is charmingly in the moment. She talks straight and takes no shit. It’s no wonder she became a fan favorite after her first time on the show. Other characters have made a mark too even if they aren’t regulars. There’s the self-described “ruski riddler” from Brooklyn or the America-loving Finn who somehow mistakes Dave for an Olympic bobsledder.
Dave’s encounters with such quirky types serve as more than just comedic relief–they remind us what it’s like to bump into unforeseeable people who make our towns come alive. Right now, we can’t (or shouldn’t) be acting on our appetite for pizza or street life. But if you want a taste of what it feels like to roll through a crazy city, watching One Bite Pizza Reviews is one way to go. By holding onto this sense of neighborhood life we reaffirm a faith in community that’s defined not by exclusion but by surprises. One Bite Pizza Reviews is a genuinely popular phenomenon. I don’t mean to inflate its cultural significance, but I’m stuck on the fact I can still enjoy what Mr. Portnoy does with his big mouth even though I suspect I have very different politics than him. (Not that I didn’t cringe at seeing Tucker Carlson appear on one of the episodes.) When Dave blusters that his show is “for the people and of the people” it’s a little trite, but I think maybe he’s got a right to take his bite out of Lincoln.