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"Made famous by its 1870 Neapolitan pedigree and a shout‑out in Eat, Pray, Love, the West Village outpost (2 Bank St.) expands the tiny original into a larger, more formal dining room and menu, but I still found the two classic pies—the margherita (tomato sauce and fior‑di‑latte mozzarella with a bit of Pecorino and fresh basil) and the marinara (tomato sauce, sliced garlic, and dried oregano, no cheese)—to be successful imports. Cooked in a domed brick oven with guidance from a fifth‑generation member of the founding family, the pies are larger than their Naples counterparts yet show a craftsmanship honed for more than a century: the dough, fermented for forty‑eight hours and flash‑cooked until speckled with bubbles and char, is incredibly pliable, stretchy and flavorful—floppy but sturdy enough for its toppings (all sourced from Italy); the sauce lets the volcanic tomatoes speak for themselves, and the cheese captures the essence of the sweetest, grassiest milk. The expanded menu and bigger portions, however, bring some missteps—several pizzas feel overdone (a heavy‑handed white; one with pesto, tomatoes, and a large, awkward ball of burrata), and salads (including one with shaved artichoke and pistachio), pastas and other entrées mostly read as noise that undercuts the restaurant's original humble charm." - Hannah Goldfield
