The following statement lacks any sort of empirical data to back it up but I'm gonna throw out there anyway: For every good pizza shop in NYC there are atleast five bad ones. Earlier today I had the worst Pizza in my life. It was at a little shop called Figaro's on the upper east side in Manhattan. Two slices of sicilian with just cheese on top. It was awful. The dough was flaky and tasted like it had sat there for days. The cheese was a near tasteless and rubbery dry clot. There was barely any sauce. I heard it once said that Pizza was like sex. Even when it's not that great it's still good. There was nothing good about this Pizza. It was horrible but I was hungry. Hungry enough to make you cranky and cranky enough to settle for it and dig at it even though before I ordered, when I looked at the dim glass case holding the pies, I had a feeling it wasn't going to be very appetizing. It was atrocious. As I was leaving I noticed an article in a local newspaper hung up on the wall and a little blurb that read "Figaro's Pizza is known for their rice and beans"! Which, as I looked over to my left, was exactly what two other customers were eating. That makes sense.
Maybe that's all they should sell. Change the name to Figaro's Rice and Beans and get rid of that montrosity to all things edible they call Pizza. Not only do I want my money and my time back but my stomach wants its self respect back.
Was it the type of pizza that has sauce with a flavor that screams can of spaghettios?
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