The Death of a Slice — When Roman-Style Isn’t Enough

There’s a steady chill in the air as October rolls in, but that’s not the only thing getting colder. Another Roman-style pizza joint on Avenue B has locked its doors for good, joining a line of East Village eateries that have waved the white napkin. So, is it the misfired toppings or just another case of restaurant roulette in the city that never stops chewing up new spots?

In the last few weeks, a cluster of closures has taken down several East Village restaurants, and I’m betting my apron strings this won’t be the last. Let’s talk about why, shall we? First, let’s face it—the East Village is a tough neighborhood. It’s a culinary battlefield where even the strongest concepts can fold like thin crust under too much weight.

The now-defunct Roman-style pizzeria opened with what sounded like a killer concept—rectangular slices, light as air, with toppings that read like poetry to the bread-obsessed. But within months, the buzz dimmed to a whisper. Eric, one of the line cooks from a nearby Italian joint, mentioned that the foot traffic just wasn’t consistent. ‘People come in for the novelty and then drift back to what they know,’ he said, shrugging as if to say, ‘That’s just New York.’

But it’s not only the locals’ fickle appetites at play here. The East Village has always been a magnet for foodies and tourists alike, but that means constant competition. A new bao shop opens down the street, and suddenly your pizza place looks like yesterday’s crust. Not to mention, the rent isn’t getting any cheaper. When you’re paying top dollar for a bottom line location, you can’t afford to have even one slow Tuesday.

Paul Mendoza, the dishwasher who spent the last weeks at the pizzeria up to his elbows in semolina flour, recounted that the owners struggled with supply chain issues. ‘Prices kept going up, but customers didn’t want to pay more,’ he recounted. ‘It’s like living in a pizza paradox where your costs rise but the slice can’t.’ And really, who pays $6 for a slice of pizza in any part of the city that’s not swaddled in a gold leaf?

On the flip side, let’s consider the pizza itself. Brooklyn has its coal-fired pies, and Manhattan its dollar slices. Roman-style pizza, with its olive oil-soaked crust and toppings that made you feel like you were eating a salad, might have been just too niche—not quite fitting into the New Yorker’s idea of grab-and-go comfort food. There’s a reason why some joints have been slinging dough for over a hundred years: they stick with basics that hit the spot.

So, what’s the takeaway from yet another closure? Here it is: a culinary experience can’t rely solely on novelty. A restaurant needs more than a good idea—it requires execution, community integration, and yes, a fair bit of luck.

The shuttering of a restaurant is a communal loss, and maybe that’s why it stings so much. You want to root for every bold new opening, for every sous chef with a dream. But in this city, it seems only the fittest survive or at least those with a hook strong enough to reel in a fickle neighborhood.

As autumn sets in and more restaurants face the chopping block, we might find joy in embracing the old guard—the diners and pizzerias that have lasted. Because in the end, if you can’t beat them, you might as well enjoy a slice alongside them.

— Tash Warner · Columnist