NYP is located in the Lumen Building at 500 Mercer. You might recall that the glassy condos there took forever to fill, ultimately going to auction. Retail space has posed a similar challenge, with New York Pizza the second restaurant (after Genki Sushi) to open there. The space is large, divided into a bar area with sports on the screens and a dining room (“family” side) that’s clean and contemporary, smacking slightly of an art gallery. (Kudos to NYP for featuring a contemporary artist’s work on the walls, though the dedicated lighting could be better.)

As much as I enjoyed the month’s previous pizzas, I’d been salivating at the thought of New York-style pies so close to home since this restaurant opened. I waded through the large pizza menu (there are also appetizers, salads, burgers, pastas, sandwiches, and more), frustrated that I couldn’t find a basic New York pizza. (You won’t find the oven in sight, either, but know that it’s a brick one.) The restaurant advertises the pizzas as “New York-style” (in a “Northwest atmosphere,” though I’m not sure what that means), but what this seems to amount to is a list of New York-named pizzas like “The Bronx Bomber” (BBQ sauce, seasoned chicken, red onion, and cilantro), “The ‘Mickey Mantle’” (pepperoni, Italian sausage, black olives, and red onions), and “The Empire State” (chicken, avocado, tomato, parmesan cheese, and alfredo sauce)—some of which don’t sound very New York-style at all.

Lacking a true New York pizza, I chose two 10-inchers that came closest to what I wanted:

The Manhattan ($9.99), advertised as “simply the best pepperoni pizza you’ll ever have.” (Um…no.)

The Margherita ($11.99), with red sauce and sliced mozzarella, topped with basil and tomatoes after baking.

My preference for a Margherita pizza is simply high quality tomato sauce and Buffalo mozzarella, topped with hand-torn basil. I’m not sure why NYP puts tomato slices on this simple pie, especially when the tomatoes were as anemic as these.

I suppose one could request the Margherita without tomatoes (at savings for de-topping?) or a simple cheese pizza (apparently a customized order) to get closest to a real New York pizza, but the cross-sectioned photo above shows the pizza problem. This is far from New York-style pizza. Oh, there’s a little melted cheese and drippy oil on action on the surface, but the dough is too thick, making this more of a generic American-style pizza.

Luckily, the week before, I was in Boca Raton and had pizza to serve as a point of comparison. As much as I generally dislike the restaurant scene in Boca, the one redeeming factor is that the large number of predominantly Jewish retirees makes the area “New York South,” and therefore an area to get decent bagels, deli, and pizza. Here’s a peek in the pizza I got at a place called Dominic’s:

This pizza was waiting for pick-up at the restaurant and took a ten-minute ride back to my father’s home before I shot the photo and took a slice. Still, it tasted terrific. Not as good as Di Fara in Brooklyn, my favorite pizza in the world, but good enough to transport me back to New York.

Is there anywhere I can find a true New York-style slice in Seattle? I have a couple more pizza places on my to-try list. Sadly, I didn’t like what I had at New York Pizza & Bar. Like the Lumen Building, I fear NYP might have trouble filling all of its space unless it finds a way to auction (or alter) its pizzas.

The Rock opened its first pizza restaurant in Tacoma in 1995, and now boasts locations in Washington, Oregon, Colorado, and even Red Deer, Alberta. With interiors featuring broken brick and an industrial warehouse feel, The Rock is a lively place for pizza.

If classic rock whets your appetite, this is where you want to be, as you’ll find musical art on the walls, concert lighting above, and Aerosmith to Zeppelin out of the speakers. The pizza playlist is also interesting, as many of the pies are named after song or album titles. (Many of those titles are listed on the bold booth seatback cushions.)

These are American-style pizzas (between a thin and a thick crust) cooked in an almond wood-fed oven at temperatures approaching 600 degrees. If you’re looking for the delicateness of Neapolitan-style pizza, look elsewhere, like the previously discussed pies at Queen Margherita. What The Rock offers is a fun atmosphere with a wide slate of white sauce and red sauce pizzas, loaded with toppings—or the ability to customize your own pizza in a choice of three sizes.

Those not partaking in pizza can choose from an assortment of pasta dishes, burgers, chicken sandwiches, or other sandwiches and wraps. There are also appetizers and salads that are good starters, such as this basic garden salad that helped balance my pizza sampling:

As for the pizzas, here are four I sampled in their nine-inch glory:

Flirtin’ with Disaster: hot Italian sausage, andouille sausage, caramelized onions, fresh crushed garlic, tomato sauce, and red chili flakes.

Crazy Little Thing: tomato sauce with white onions, green pepper, sliced mushrooms, crushed garlic, and black olives.

Satisfaction: garlic butter, mozzarella, kalamata olives, sauteed spinach, red onions, roasted garlic, prosciutto, feta cheese, and drizzled Italian dressing.

Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy: tomato sauce topped wtih pepperoni, sweet sausage, peppered bacon, meatballs, ham, and extra mozzarella. (See what this particular pizza teaches us about sex here.)

Note: Photo of bar courtesy of Dave Baker, Art Director, The Rock Wood Fired Pizza & Spirits

This week, I visited the new Queen Anne location of The Rock, a chain that started in Tacoma and has seen successful growth in the region and beyond. If classic rock whets your appetite, this is the place to be, with musical art on the walls, concert lighting above, and Aerosmith to Zeppelin out of the speakers. The pizza playlist is also interesting, as many of the pies are named after song or album titles.

So many of the pizzas had potential for this week’s Sexy Feast column, from “Satisfaction” to “Bad to the Bone” to “Flirtin’ with Disaster.” My choice was Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy, a red sauce pizza that will ward away vegetarians with toppings of pepperoni, sweet sausage, peppered bacon, meatballs, ham, and extra mozzarella. This American-style pizza (between a thin and a thick crust) will satisfy any carnivorous craving.

So what does The Rock’s Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy pizza teach us about sex?

It’s all about the validation of masturbation.

Sit before your pizza and it’s just you and your meat–a completely carnal affair.

Meaty, Beaty, Big and Bouncy is a compilation album of singles by The Who which came out in 1971. I became aware of the album during my “puberty years,” and naturally found the title intriguing and stimulating. After all, I was discovering the world of breasts at the time, and while certain things had questionable sexual connotations, I was absolutely sure that by meaty, beaty, big and bouncy, The Who was talking titties.

One of the album’s songs is “Pictures of Lily,” which some radio stations banned because of sexual content. It’s the story of a boy with insomnia. He complains about “sleepless nights,” so his Dad puts pictures of Lily on his wall. Those pictures, the son says, “made my life so wonderful…helped me sleep at night…helped me feel alright.”

Who guitarist and songwriter Pete Townshend explained in an interview that the song is “merely a ditty about masturbation and the importance of it to a young man.”

Masturbation is also important to a young woman. Or a not-so-young man or woman. We all deserve pleasure, and we all can benefit from the peaceful relaxation that comes in the aftermath of self-pleasuring. Like Woody Allen said, “Masturbation, don’t knock it: It’s sex with someone I love.”

And like the protagonist in “Pictures of Lily” says, “Now my nights are not quite so lonely.”

Because, as at The Rock, an orgy of meat doesn’t require other people to help you get some satisfaction.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 19, 2012.

Luckily, last month I purchased a Seattle Weekly VOICE Daily Deal for Kylie’s Chicago Pizza. For $12, I had $24 to spend, which would cover any of the nine Chicago-style, deep dish pizzas. I went with the “Combo.” The cornmeal crust stands tall, holding a layer of cheese and lots of chunky tomato sauce. The Combo is stuffed with fillings: pepperoni, sweet fennel sausage, onions, green bell peppers, mushrooms, and black olives. It’s a beauty to behold, and will certainly make you wonder, “How am I going to take this whole thing in?”

So what does Kylie’s Chicago-style pizza teach us about sex?

It’s all about deciding whether to go deep.

As I’m from Long Island, my preferred pizza is New York-style. You grab a slice, fold it so the edges almost meet, let the grease drip down to the paper plate, and then eat out of hand. That said, deep dish pizza is fun for a change, as it’s impressive in its heft, with the meaty version like a “masculine quiche.” But not everyone is as accepting of both styles as me, even with my bias. In the eating out battle of Chicago versus New York, some people like going deep, while others gag on the thought.

It’s the same with oral pleasuring, including fellatio.

Many people enjoy deep kissing. A probing tongue plays inside each partner’s mouth, and the swirling of tongues excites the many nerve endings they contain. Others, though, are uncomfortable with this and keep the kissing to the lips, as if seeing another’s tongue as a snake, and saliva as venom.

And then there’s deep throating, a form of fellatio in which the penis is taken deep into the partner’s mouth, reaching the throat. This can cause a gag reflex, which might ultimately be unpleasant for both parties. The “insertee” may enjoy deep throating, though it’s possibly from the satisfaction of providing (perceived) pleasure to his or her partner. Note that the act doesn’t have to be uncomfortable for the insertee. Training helps. Certain positions tend to be more comfortable in relaxing the throat, such as lying on the back with the head just off the bed and tipped downward, which levels the mouth and throat closer to a straight line.

For the “insertor,” the thrill may also be more psychological than physical. This comes from a sense that the partner is really into him and his penis by demonstrating a desire to completely “devour” the penis. In actuality, though, most of the stimulation comes from the lips and the tongue, so deep throating can be under-stimulating and overrated.

As with choosing pizza, the decision to go deep is a personal one. You’ll want to discuss it with your companion, but in the end, you must feel comfortable with your choice. Fortunately, through thick and thin, there are many paths to pleasure.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on January 12, 2012.

And here’s more, excerpted from my piece at TheSunbreak.com as my second of a month-long Pizza Parlor Friday Holler:

Back when airplane travel was much easier, I’d dash out of O’Hare Airport during long layovers to pick up a deep-dish pizza. If I planned my time wisely, I could count on the “L” to take me to places like Giordano’s or Gino’s East, returning in time to stuff myself with stuffed pizza on the plane, making my seatmates jealous.

Kylie’s is much closer than Chicago, though you’ll need to consider your time here as well. The menu advises a 25-minute wait for a deep-dish pizza. Some people call in their order ahead of time, though if you’re eating in, you’ll also need to consider table availability, as Kylie’s is a small space that can get crowded. (It will seem even smaller if you’re stuck listening to two tables with babies screaming in stereo. Parents, have you considered take-out?)

To fill the wait time and to fulfill a hungry stomach, I started with chicken wings. The menu promised over a pound of wings (they were mostly drummies) with baby carrots (easier to prep than celery, I suppose) and a choice of ranch or blue cheese dressing, all for $9. With nine wings on the plate, they came to one dollar apiece, and they disappointed as “Buffalo” style, lacking the crispy “seal” of a deep-fried wing (these were slightly soggy) as well as the spicy punch.

Fortunately, Kylie’s did Chicago better than it did Buffalo. (There are also thin-crust pizzas available, but if at Chicago-style joint, what’s the point?) In a meaty mood, thoughts of sausage and pepperoni prevailed as I went with the “Combo.” The 10-inch pie ($18; there’s also a 12-inch version for $24) sets you up with six pork-filled slices that also include green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and black olives.

It’s a colossal affair, and in contrast to the New York-style slice that you pick up, fold (letting the extra grease run down to the paper plate), and eat out of hand, Chicago-style means utensils. The tall slice stands strong due to the thick crust, which requires a little light sawing with a knife. That crust, made with cornmeal, is a bit buttery and slightly tangy. With all of the fillings (including the chunky tomato sauce), I felt like I was eating more of a quiche than a pizza.

The sausage pieces were larger than I like, with those at the top of the pie a little overcooked and dried out. Next time, I’ll probably revert back to my preferred, basic cheese pie. But overall, the pizza was pretty good, with two slices sufficient for dinner—leaving the third slice (it reheats well, pleasing to this person who prefers not to eat cold pizza) as a bonus for breakfast the next day.

Book-wise, I was pleased to be a co-editor/author for the Fearless Critic Seattle Restaurant Guide.

Magazine-wise, I’ve brought my worlds of food and sex together in writing the regular “Hot Plate” feature for Edible Seattle. I’ve also contributed to Northwest Palate magazine, and look for an article I wrote about the Culinary Institute of America’s conference on Japanese food in the January issue of Ibuki magazine.

Blog-wise, I’m playing with the food and sex theme with my “Sexy Feast” feature in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious blog, where I also just debuted a weekly noodle article called “The Mein Man.” I also did a bit of writing for the Serious Eats blog, and joined the team at TheSunbreak.com.

And what an honor it was to contribute to USA Today’s “Great American Bites” series! I made my picks for “great” (not necessarily “best”) ice cream, burgers, and pizza in Washington state.

Ice cream: Here is what I wrote about Mallard Ice Cream (whole article here): With an emphasis on fresh, local and organic, Mallard Ice Cream is a fun hangout in Bellingham (home of Western Washington University) for students and townies alike. Check the online Flav-o-cam for the current menu, with flavors ranging from standards to exotics, including a recent “hot” favorite: apricot/tamarind/cayenne.

Burgers: Here is what I wrote about Pick-Quick Drive In (whole article here): Pick-Quick Drive In in Fife is the place to visit when you want the whole package: cooked-to-order burgers, greasy-in-a-good-way fries and thick milkshakes some made with seasonal fruit. As the name implies, you best order quick to avoid the wrath of those in line behind you. But then you can relax as you enjoy your burger at a picnic table surrounded by beautiful flowers.

Pizza: And here is what I wrote about Serious Pie (whole article here): Serious Pie is a place to rub elbows with fellow Seattle diners while eating artisanal, hand-shaped oblong pies made with local ingredients and cooked in an applewood-burning oven. The guanciale (house-cured Italian bacon) with baby arugula and soft, runny eggs is a favorite. If you want to sample more, like the pumpkin, pork belly and pistachio pie, go during happy hour when mini-pies are only $5 each.

(Funny…USA Today used the photo at the top, but it’s shot with my Panasonic Lumix LX-3, and not with my new Canon DSLR. Proof I still need to practice using the new camera!)

(See my original Serious Pie write-up here.)

Again, these aren’t necessarily the best, but they are great. In fact, one of my New Year resolutions is to use the word “best” less and less frequently. I have favorite dishes and restaurants, but that doesn’t always make them the best–a word which can put down other people’s favorites.

Besides, there will always be other ice cream, burgers, pizzas, and more to explore. Here, for example, is a slice (arugula and egg) from Proletariat Pizza in West Seattle. I like the people and the pies, and would gladly eat here again, though I wouldn’t call Proletariat my favorite. I do appreciate the seasonal ingredients and the use of Shepherd’s Grain flour in the dough they make daily.

Across the street is Full Tilt Ice Cream, a perfect complement to a pizza meal. This is a peppy place, with games galore and spirits high. There are signature root beer (and beer) floats, and the ice cream flavors are always a lot of fun. I enjoyed grapefruit tarragon sorbet last visit.

Regrettably, I’ve not yet made it to Zippy’s Burgers in that same stretch of West Seattle (some people say it’s the “best” burger in the area), but hope to before they’re potentially forced to move. So, how about a hot dog instead? Po Dog gets creative with the weiners. You can customize your own, or go with one of their specialties, like the Wasabi Egg Roll Dog (wrapped in wonton paper & deep fried, then topped with homemade wasabi aioli) or the Deep Fried Danger Dog (wrapped in pepper bacon & deep fried, with sauteed onions and homemade spicy chili sauce). Here you see a special mac and Tillamook cheese dog.

My partner and I were faced with that choice when we went to Tutta Bella recently for a quickie.

For this sex educator, it’s tempting to turn to “The Couch” episode of Seinfeld for today’s sex lesson. Kramer wants to put cucumbers on his pizza, but Poppie objects, asserting “We cannot give the people the right to choose any topping they want…now on this issue, there can be no debate.” When Kramer fights for his personal pizza-making rights (”It’s not a pizza pie until it comes out of the oven”), Poppie claims “It’s a pizza the moment you put your fists in the dough.” The scene is a brilliant peek at the politics of choice.

But I want to talk about topping talk as sex play.

Sex is like a menu, full of possibilities. You don’t have to like all the choices, but it’s great to have many available, and it’s best to know and talk about them. If you’re on your own, you can choose whatever you like. But if you’re going to share the experience, you’ll need to come to consensus on a choice that works for your entire party. Communicate and negotiate what you want–and what you don’t want. The foreplay should be fun, with lots of “Oh, that would be exciting” and “Mmm…I’ve never done that before” and “Wow, sounds juicy…let’s do it.”

As for what we did? We played around with the possibilities, and narrowed it down to something “experimental” (the Giovanni, with extra virgin olive oil, fresh mozzarella, cherry tomato halves, prosciutto di Parma, fresh arugula, and shaved parmigiano reggiano) and a more standard pleasure (the Regina Margherita, with Pomodoro San Marzano, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and extra virgin olive oil). Then taking control of the situation, we asked Tutta Bella to do a split pie. After all, variety is the spice of life.

Don’t forget the “How was it for you?” afterplay. That’s how we learn and grow in a relationship. At Tutta Bella, as much as we liked experimenting with something different, we ultimately preferred the familiarity and joy of the more simple Margherita pizza. There’s no right or wrong on this. It just felt right to us, which is what matters most. And on this issue, there can be no debate.

First published in Seattle Weekly’s Voracious on August 26, 2010.

I like the vibe. Fatty’s features a couple of New York guys (Tom and George) who are bringing a New York feel to their corner shop. Order at the counter, then grab an adjoining barstool or a seat at one of the few tables and watch as Tom hand-tosses your pie. Allow about ten minutes from start to finish if they’re not busy.

The flavor of my slices brought me back to New York (as did the New York memorabilia, mixed with some Seattle stuff, around the room). The homemade tomato sauce had an agreeably bright taste, and I liked the cheese, though wished for just a little more of it. This is definitely the kind of pizza slice you fold, with a little red-hued oil dripping off as you hold the slice downward. There’s room for improvement, especially structurally: I’d like just a little more char and semolina grit below, and a little blistering, bubbling action on top. The guys welcomed my feedback, and I hope to get back there soon to sample a whole pie.

(Also, the garlic knots are quite good – and kudos for having bottles of Mexican coke, made with real cane sugar instead of corn syrup.)

This was long overdue. Following my recent foray to Flying Squirrel, I was ready. With a group of six people, we’d be able to sample six pizzas – and a whole lot more.

Pre-pizza, it’s nice to have some nibbles, and as compared to the throwaway salads of other pizza joints, Delancey’s starters are solid. Of the three starters, I liked the radicchio best, as it had a rich, roasted flavor. The preserved lemon gave it further dimension, but the dish was undersalted. Similarly, the beet and grapefruit salad (a wonderful combination) was simply crying out for more salt, which would have really brought the flavors to the forefront. The carpaccio was my least favorite of the starters, as I’ve had others in the area (Trellis’ comes to mind) that make this meat-lover sing and salivate more.

At this point, I was really salivating at the thought of the pizzas about to make their approach. With six coming, I made a conscious effort to try to evaluate each one carefully in the midst of any chaos at the table. As reflected in the starters, Brandon Pettit seems to be trying to let quality ingredients shine, whether the platform is a plate or a pie. And with the pies, it’s the crust itself that shines, as it’s thin and crisp and full of slightly salty deliciousness – when done right. Unfortunately, one crust was a little softer than I like, while some of the others were a little too charred. This may well reflect a personal preference against a “burnt” taste, but I’ve also heard this criticism from others.

Margherita pizza

Still, for Seattle, this is top tier pizza. Upon first bite, the Romana was my favorite, with the anchovy and olive giving up briny goodness, and the garlic and chile oil adding welcome bite.  But in the long run, and typical for me, the Margherita was my favorite, as it allowed the brightness of the tomato sauce and the freshness of the melted mozzarella to beguile my tastebuds.

If I can add one more criticism, it’s that I wish there was a little more mozzarella on the pizzas. As I devoured some of the chocolate chip cookie in front of me, I realized that my joy in eating it (I prefer this type of chocolate chip cookie more) stemmed from a desire for some missing fat. For that reason, I craved the cookie to a point of underappreciation of the roasted pear and the Meyer lemon budino – both of which I nevertheless enjoyed sampling. But then I also thought about the $3.50 price of the single cookie, and realized that for a starter, Margherita pizza (the least expensive, at $12) and cookie, the tab is already pushing $25, excluding drink, tax and tip. This isn’t an indictment of Delancey, but for a pizza dinner, that best be a hit-it-out-of-the-ballpark pizza.

It might be for some, though I’d probably give the  edge to Flying Squirrel (by a squirrel’s hair). Delancey offers a more interesting atmosphere, but the price you pay here is more noise and a frequently long wait. For those willing to make the drive, I’ll say that Seattle’s lucky to have Flying Squirrel on the south side and Delancey on the north side as great pizza options. For me, I’ll likely wait to travel further. Okay, I’m stubborn; I prefer to hold out for bagels  from New York, dim sum from Richmond (B.C.) or Los Angeles, and xiao long bao  from New York, Richmond, or Taipei. And pizza from Brooklyn, where DiFara can have a bizarre wait of its own, and little ambiance other than a view of the counter and the interminably old pizza-maker practicing his craft on the other side, but a pizza that makes me sing and salivate most.

A reminder that as a native New Yorker, I’m partial to that style of pizza. The kind with air bubbles that you admire. The kind that you fold and then hold above two paper plates, allowing some oil to run off before taking your first bite. The kind with the crust you want to eat: slightly charred, and crispy yet pliant (the same way I like my bacon). The kind that DiFara’s been making for decades. The kind that so many transplants in Seattle complain we can’t find here, only to have others complain that we shouldn’t be complaining.

The good news is that Flying Squirrel’s pizza comes close. I ordered a simple pie of mozzarella and tomato sauce (as seen in the first photo) to test the quality, as that’s the standard-bearer. Good char, some oil, and a little bubble action – but falling a bit short on the taste and texture I so miss. Still, quite enjoyable.

But behind that simple pie you probably saw a special one. It’s the pie Michael raved about in his review, and since I’m loving egg on everything these days, I had to try it, too. We’re talking toppings of free-range egg, organic arugula, fresh buffalo mozzarella, parmesan cheese, red onion, and sauce. I like this combination of flavors, reminiscent of what I had earlier this year at Serious Pie. Flying Squirrel’s was comparable in quality. Interesting, though, was how different my pie looked compared to Michael’s. The abundance of arugula on mine was fine, but somehow his looked more majestic, with restraint in the toppings, shavings of cheese, and more visible evidence of the egg. The stretched-out dough can be a canvas, I suppose, with each pizza-maker an artist in the kitchen, resulting in a different pie each time.

And yet those New York pizzas I love are so consistently perfect. (Okay, go ahead and complain…)

At the cafe just inside the entrance off 1st Avenue, you can buy rectangular pieces of pizza, as well as the day’s panini or soup. I went for the plain cheese slice, and while it was filling enough, it was more like bread than pizza. Too much dough, and not enough cheese and sauce for my taste.

Luckily, I love DeLaurenti for other reasons. The store is a great resource for chocolate, cheese, and charcuterie, as well as a good variety of other groceries. From DeLaurenti, I was headed to a barbeque party on Bainbridge Island, so it was a perfect place to pick up some prosciutto. I wrapped some paper-thin slices around figs, and the rest around Rainier cherries that I pitted and stuffed with just a little bit of thyme. After putting one of each on skewers, I grilled them just slightly – enough to warm up the fruit and get the juices (mine and the fruit’s) flowing. These skewers were such a hit that there was no opportunity to take a photo of the final product. Instead, pictured are the skewers ready to hit the grill.

Pardon the pizza, unless you like that particular style, but definitely include DeLaurenti as part of your Pike Place market shopping experience.