Nick's Pizza

We are desperate for a decent takeout spot. Could this be the one?

When I eat pizza, I’m not always looking for the “perfect slice.” Sometimes, what I crave the most is nothing more than a decent pie to take home to the family and fill some bellies. What I’m after is a no-fuss pie. Simple ingredients, decent quality, and an affordable price.

And of all the types of pizza in California, this is the most difficult to find. After more than a year of reporting on the West Coast food scene, I’ve learned that good pizza is definitely available in California. But it comes with some baggage: extravagant ingredients, extravagant prices, and a big helping of ego on the side. Places like Tony’s Neapolitana for instance offer incredible pizza, but you gotta wait in line, navigate a menu with 100+ options, and you are most certainly going to break the bank in exchange for enjoying what I consider some of the best in the West.

Then you have these new-age pizza startups like Square Pie Guys for instance, who put just as much effort into branding and social media as they do into making food. These spots can taste pretty good, but you have to deal with so much bullshit along the way, like convoluted digital ordering systems or non-consensual servings of ranch.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is an abundance of low quality trash pizza like Mountain Mike’s or Round Table (which I believe still holds the record for worst Jersey Boy Eats review of all time). These places unfortunately comprise the bulk of the pizza in California, and I’m regularly shocked and disgusted at how frequently my own friends will settle for this garbage.

Where is the middle ground? What I’m craving is a spot that is simple, fast, and decently priced. I heard a rumor around town that a place called Nick’s Pizza might fit the bill. I was also told it’s a worker-owned cooperative. Any business that goes out of its way to support the workers is worthy of respect.

Nick’s describes itself as “Oakland-style pizza,” which right off the bat does not inspire confidence. Because “Oakland-style pizza” does not exist. It’s like claiming to make “Jersey-style tacos.” At best, it’s laughably silly. At worst, it’s outright cultural appropriation. Despite this red flag, I was willing to give it a shot.

The perfect chance arose last week, when I was scheduled for a late night editing session for a new fiction podcast some friends and I are producing called “Planet Pizza,” a whimsical pizza-themed project that is slowly coming to fruition. I found myself reading scripts about pizza all day, and by dinner time I had an insatiable craving for a sauce and cheese. Driving over the Bay Bridge back to Oakland, I called up my partner to ask if they could place an order for me to scoop up on my way home from work.

“Are you reviewing it?” they asked, barely able to conceal the trepidation in their voice.

“Yes,” I replied, “but I promise to keep my opinions to the blog and not do any shit-talking over dinner.”

All this reviewing has begun to put a strain on my relationship. Turns out eating with a critic is not the most pleasant experience, especially when you frequently complain about the food.

About 20 minutes later, I arrived at Nick’s to find our order hot and ready to take home. This was a good sign. Far too often, you’re forced to wait more than 45 minutes for takeout in this town.

The pizza came in an unmarked brown cardboard pizza box. Strange, I have never encountered one of these before. Must be some kind of environmentally friendly packaging. Kind of a bummer tho. Do I wanna save the planet? Sure. But must we really sacrifice the beautiful work of art that is the classic red and white pizza box? You know the one I mean, with the fat chef winking mischievously.

I actually used to work for a guy who looked exactly like that chef. His name was Lou, and he was the owner of Tony’s Brothers Pizza in Oakland, New Jersey, which was my very first job when I was 15. Lou, if your reading this right now, I hope your proud of me for keeping it real out here in California.

When you have a box that looks as fantastic as this one, why settle for plain brown cardboard? Maybe it's a stylistic choice. Everybody’s a minimalist these days…

I pulled out my wallet to pay, but the woman at the counter stopped me. “It’s all paid up,” she said. My partner had sneakily paid for it over the phone. This was clearly an attempt to prevent me from knowing the true cost of this pie, as my stinginess is one their biggest complaints about eating out together. But I would not be prevented from accurately reporting on the price of Nick’s pizza pie, so I asked for the receipt.

$33 for a large pie. Honestly, that’s pretty fair for California. In NJ it’s $25 but out here I was expecting something closer to $40. On the way out, I snagged a menu to see what they were offering.

I like this menu, it’s handwritten and about the size of a receipt which is endearing. I guess this is just the specials though, because when I got home, I opened the box to reveal something not found on this paper menu.

Judging by looks alone, this appears to be a damn good pie. Just look at that crispy charred crust full of huge bubbles. When I was a little kid, I always went for the bubble slice. The sensation of popping a hot pizza bubble and watching the steam pour out while the dough slowly deflates is nothing short of pure delight.

And I must commend my partner on their choice of toppings: a classic array of pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms and red onions.

Looking up this menu item online reveals its name, “the combo,” and its mildly gourmet approach to ingredients. The sausage is housemade and the mushrooms are crimini. This is just enough fanciness to impress without driving up the price or causing a fuss.

But does it taste as good as it looks?

Actually, it does. The first thing you notice is the crust. It’s got a real depth of flavor not traditionally found in pizza crust. Turns out Nick’s claim to fame is using sourdough. It’s a simple yet brilliant concept that leverages what’s arguably the Bay Area’s most legendary food item - sourdough bread - into pizza crust that’s crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, and extremely flavorful. I’m honestly shocked that no one else is trying this (I’m sure someone is, but I haven’t personally encountered it).

The cheese was nicely melted too. I like when there’s a bit of a char on top. And the toppings were definitely high quality and thickly spread. Typically, I dress my slices up with parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes, but I found this slice needed nothing extra.

This may be controversial, but I don’t always finish my crust. When you eat as much pizza as I do, you try to avoid excess carbs where you can. I’d rather go back for a fresh slice and get that cheesy goodness. But with Nick’s, I found myself digging back in for the crust. It’s really that good.

My only real complaint about this pie is the size. It’s not as big as an East Coast large. I’m usually a two-slice boy. But I found myself needing three of these babies to feel sufficiently full.

Now I’ll have to excuse myself from the dinner table, I have pizza-themed podcasts to produce.

FINAL THOUGHTS

For a West Coast pie joint that doesn’t make too much fuss, Nick’s is a very solid option. It certainly satisfied my cravings for a decent takeout pie. Their menu offers a great mix of classics and rotating specials at an affordable price. And that sourdough crust is some of the best I’ve had in the Bay. Maybe Oakland-style pizza really deserves to be a thing.

Haha just kidding, we’re not there yet. But if a couple more places open up that do things Nick’s way, “Oakland-style pizza” might just turn into its own regional specialty worthy of respect. Only time will tell.

WEST COAST: 9

EAST COAST: 8