Where to eat pizza on this earth.

Tied world’s best 2025. USA’s #1 for 2026 — fifth year on that throne. Orchard Street, Lower East Side.

Candlelight, a BYOB line, and a thin round pie that made Carroll Gardens a destination.

Ravenswood. A Neapolitan oven in Chicago that takes the 90-second bake seriously.

Eastern Market. A square with the red stripe, in the city that invented it.

Greektown. A Detroit square in a neighborhood that has been feeding the city for decades.

The other famous Detroit square, just north of the city line. The antipasto pie is the order.

Brentwood wood oven. A Los Angeles Neapolitan that is not trying to be a scene first.

Highland Park slices. New York logic in a city that also does Naples.

The Mission. A softer, California Neapolitan a few neighborhoods over from Tony’s circus of ovens.

Williamsburg slices with a burrata square people cross the river for.

Greenpoint wood oven. The hot-honey pepperoni that left this room and took over the internet.

Bushwick wood oven that made a neighborhood. The Bee Sting is still the order.

Wooster Street coal oven. The other half of the New Haven argument, next door to Pepe in spirit.

State Street. The third New Haven oven, with a thinner pie and a shorter wait than Wooster Street.

Caramelized cheese crust. The Chicago pan that is not Lou Malnati’s and does not want to be.

A coal oven and a thin pie in a city that is not only deep dish.

Lower East Side slices from flour they mill in the shop. A plain cheese is the test.

North Beach squares by the slice, sold through a window onto Green Street.

Hawthorne. The Portland pie that made people wait, on purpose.

Mississippi Avenue. A neighborhood round, not a pilgrimage with a speech.

The Detroit square that took over Austin. Home Slice is the New York one. This is the pan.

East Austin wood oven. A short Neapolitan menu in a city of slices and squares.

Southampton. An Italian-American tavern pie in the city of Provel, without making Provel the whole story.

The Loop. A thin cornmeal crust that is not the Imo’s square.

South 9th Street. The Philly slice with the fried-cheese-curd pie people queue for.

Fishtown. The Philadelphia oven that made a national argument, now on North Lee Street.

North Philadelphia, at 28th and Lehigh. A shop that hires people coming home from prison, and bakes a serious pie.

The North End original, on Thacher Street since the 1920s. Boston’s old brick-oven argument.

Hanover Street, lunch only. Sicilian squares until they sell out, then they lock the door.

East Boston. A brick oven, a lamb skewer, and a pie that does not care about the North End.

The Essex County bar pie. Thin, crisp, cut in squares, eaten in a booth.

Freehold Borough. A Monmouth County round that has outlasted every trend on Main Street.

Ballard. A wood oven and a short menu. The Seattle pie people plan around.

The Greenwich Village slice. Fold it, walk Carmine Street, do not sit down for a tasting menu.

SoHo squares. Pepperoni cups in a puddle of oil. A line, then a box.

Downtown. Tom Douglas’s wood oven, a reliable Seattle pie when Ballard is booked.

Capitol Hill. A Seattle slice shop doing New York rounds, not another wood-fired dinner.

USA #3 for 2026. Dan Richer’s sourdough on Grove Street — Jersey City’s destination pie.

World #9 in 2025. Tied USA #2 for 2026. William Joo — Pizza Maker of the Year 2025.

Butter crust, cheese first, tomato on top. The Chicago pie people actually argue about.

Cracker-thin, party-cut, a South Side bar pie. The Chicago pizza that is not a postcard.

Nancy Silverton’s oven on Highland. Proof that Los Angeles takes dough as seriously as it takes a scene.

North Beach, many ovens, a World Champion Margherita. Tony Gemignani’s cathedral of styles.

A baker’s pizza. Wood oven, long ferment, the Pacific Northwest pie that made a neighborhood.

Sauce on top. A Jersey bakery pie that is good even when it cools.

Provel, a cracker crust, squares. The pie St. Louis will not apologize for.

A South Congress slice that folds. New York logic, Texas heat.

Wooster Street coal. The white clam pie that made “apizza” a word you say out loud.

The square that started it: blue-steel pans, fried-cheese corners, racing-stripe sauce.

Chris Bianco’s desert oven. Proof that great pizza does not need a coastline.