Authentic Neapolitan pizza with a large menu and inviting atmosphere
























"L’Antica Pizzeria Da Michele has carved out a nice niche in a crowded pizza scene, and an even more Italian restaurant-crowded West Village. And it’s only been open since 2023—their original location in Naples has been around since 1870, way before it made its big-screen debut in Eat, Pray, Love. At this West Village location, you’ll hear Italian being spoken at the bar between two impeccably dressed ex-pats looking for a taste of home, while thumping house music plays in the background. It’s a great, casual date night spot that you can easily walk into and share textbook, impossibly thin pies. photo credit: Will Hartman photo credit: Will Hartman photo credit: Will Hartman Pause Unmute As is standard for Neapolitan pizzerias in New York, those pies cook for about 90 seconds in an imported brick oven that’s on display in their second dining room. The 15-inch shareable pies are larger than you’ll see in other notable Neapolitan pizzerias in the city, like Song E’Napule and Una Pizza Napoletana. There are nine different pizzas on the menu, but keep it simple. The thin crust nearly gave out on just their margherita—you can only imagine the floppiness of the loaded-up pizzas. Food Rundown Fritto Misto A perfectly fine appetizer. The lemony, crunchy-on-the-inside zucchini is our favorite bite. The shrimp and squid tentacles and bodies are no slouch, but they don’t soak up the arrabiata sauce quite the same. photo credit: Will Hartman Margherita Among Neapolitan pizzas in New York, there’s something very simple and unfussy about these pies. The crust doesn’t spring up in the oven, it’s not overly chewy, and there’s no sourdough flavor near this thing. But there is lots of acidity coming from the tomatoes, enough sweet basil to let you know it’s there, and milky, squeaky bites of fior di latte. It’s a wonderful pizza, and if you’re someone who nerds out over these kinds of things, you’ll be very happy to eat here. photo credit: Will Hartman Polenta Cake A fine dessert that isn’t breaking any barriers. The fruit is nicely stewed, and the cake is tender. Get one to split if you need something sweet, but you’re not missing out if you skip it. photo credit: Will Hartman" - Will Hartman
"At the West Village branch I had no trouble getting in at lunch and chose the sunny room while the pizzaiolo worked with the oven in full view—pizza as theater. The margherita ($22) was at least two to three inches larger in diameter than Una’s, had been cut into slices (as is never done in Naples), and looked less inflated and more damp with a narrower circumferential hump. The crust was dense, wet and thin; the cheese more profuse and slightly rubbery; the tomato sauce a shade darker but seemingly unseasoned, and I managed only half of this pie compared with two‑thirds of Mangieri’s. It’s a perfectly desirable, sumptuously outfitted pizza, but in my view it lost the contest to Una’s lighter, springier margherita with its premium toppings." - Robert Sietsema
"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

"The century-old Naples pizzeria opened in Manhattan with a menu of pizzas, salads, and sandwiches; critics recommend sticking to the classic Margherita pie." - Emma Orlow
"I visited the newly opened L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele at the corner of Greenwich Avenue and 2 Bank Street in the West Village and tried the margherita ($20), which seemed nearly identical to the original in Naples and comes closer to replicating true Neapolitan pizza in New York than anything I’ve had here. The crust was soft and stippled with char with a puffy cornicione, the middle damp and thin so you can’t fold a slice New York–style, the cheese was cow’s-milk mozzarella applied in tiny dollops, and the sauce was a simple canned-tomato puree with fresh basil strewn before baking. The restaurant is huge compared with the original—around 6,000 square feet across three storefronts with an airy barroom, open prep area, a giant dining room with a view of the domed pizza oven, and a downstairs room not yet open—and the menu is refreshingly simple (eight pies at the moment) anchored by marinara and margherita (also offered as a double margherita). Some nonpizza items are quite good—little gnocchi sandwiches with mozzarella and prosciutto—and the Aglianico rosato from Campania pairs exceptionally well with the margherita; Mexican Coke ($7) is the closest thing to what you’d drink in Naples. But the menu has missteps: the double margherita adds unnecessary cheese, the pesto pie (with burrata) is a disaster—burrata doesn’t belong on a pizza—and I worry planned expansions toward a larger, more sprawling Italian/American menu could eclipse the pizza that should remain the focus; for now, the margherita is not to be missed." - Robert Sietsema