A lot can happen in 90 seconds.
You can survive in a space vacuum.
Minute Rice can be overcooked.
A prosciutto-laden Neapolitan pizza can slip in and out of an oven and land in your mouth.
The latter is happening at Crush Wood-Fired Pizza, a marble hall of personal, Naples-style pies baking for you at 1,000 degrees, hoping to soft-open tomorrow in the Financial District.
What you’ve got here is an L-shaped corridor lined with marble, pizza toppings and over 20 flavors of handmade gelato. You’ll also notice two giant red things in the back filled with fire. Don’t be alarmed. They’re just wood-fired ovens from Naples. And they know what they’re doing.
How this works: pick a ball of dough and guide it down the toppings assembly line. Say things like “bourbon BBQ” and “housemade sausage,” and they’ll happen to your pizza. Then watch as it enters a 1,000-degree inferno. Count to 90. Before you know it, it’s in front of you, all hot and Naples-y.
You’ll see some suggested pizzas on their menu. But there’s also one that’s not. It’s called The Crush. Ask for it by name, and a pie topped with tomatoes, imported buffalo-milk mozzarella and truffle oil shows up.
Pro tip: that only works here.
You can survive in a space vacuum.
Minute Rice can be overcooked.
A prosciutto-laden Neapolitan pizza can slip in and out of an oven and land in your mouth.
The latter is happening at Crush Wood-Fired Pizza, a marble hall of personal, Naples-style pies baking for you at 1,000 degrees, hoping to soft-open tomorrow in the Financial District.
What you’ve got here is an L-shaped corridor lined with marble, pizza toppings and over 20 flavors of handmade gelato. You’ll also notice two giant red things in the back filled with fire. Don’t be alarmed. They’re just wood-fired ovens from Naples. And they know what they’re doing.
How this works: pick a ball of dough and guide it down the toppings assembly line. Say things like “bourbon BBQ” and “housemade sausage,” and they’ll happen to your pizza. Then watch as it enters a 1,000-degree inferno. Count to 90. Before you know it, it’s in front of you, all hot and Naples-y.
You’ll see some suggested pizzas on their menu. But there’s also one that’s not. It’s called The Crush. Ask for it by name, and a pie topped with tomatoes, imported buffalo-milk mozzarella and truffle oil shows up.
Pro tip: that only works here.
