Tim C.
Yelp
The gleaming facade of Blackie's stands out on the George Washington Highway, all sleek charcoal gray and punchy lime green accents. This is not your corner pizza joint with fluorescent lighting and sticky laminate tables. Blackie's wants you to know right away that they're playing a different game.
Inside, the aesthetic continues its war on mediocrity. Stone walls meet distressed wood paneling. Artful lighting casting just the right glow over marble tabletops and modern, artsy, seating. The place feels expensive and calculated, with considered design where every weathered plank and pendant light has been placed with Instagram worthiness in mind. The dining room fills up fast. Locals know something tourists don't.
Two fancy Italian pizza ovens loom large behind us in the beautiful dining area with the equally fancy bar in front of us. Their pepperoni pizza arrives on a wooden board, a 14-inch circle of potential greatness. First visual impression: beautiful. The kind of pie that food photographers wish for. But we eat with our mouths, not our eyes.
The first slice pulled away from the pie reveals a crust that defies expectation. It's remarkably light, almost airy, overwhelmed toward the center, with a structure that grows more substantial as you reach the perimeter. The flavor is distinctive, pleasant, with an agreeable chew that speaks of proper fermentation and good flour. This is a seriously considered pizza dough. Someone in the kitchen understands bread.
But then comes the problem. The sauce, applied with such restraint that you might question whether they ran out halfway through prep, gets absolutely bulldozed by a tsunami of cheese. This dairy avalanche dominates every bite, turning what should be a symphony into a one-note song. The pepperoni, while abundant, contributes almost nothing to the equation. It exists merely as decoration, its flavor lost beneath the blanket of mozzarella excess.
The service at Blackie's runs with remarkable precision. Water glasses never empty. Questions find immediate answers. Needs are anticipated rather than responded to. This is professional hospitality at work, the kind that makes you feel simultaneously cared for and not spied on.
In the end, Blackie's aesthetic speaks of culinary ambition and careful planning. The service is ready to support a serious dining destination. But the pizza, at least, falls victim to the most basic of errors: imbalance. Too much of one thing, not enough of the others.
Would I return? Absolutely. But I'd veer toward their burgers and comfort food rather than the pizza. It's a great spot that deserves a better outcome than this pie provided.
