This Incredible NYC Pizzeria Has Even The Italians Saying It’s The ‘Best In The World’
Tucked away on the Lower East Side, there’s a tiny spot that draws pizza lovers from Naples to New York, each hoping to snag a slice of pure perfection.
Una Pizza Napoletana has done the unthinkable—winning over Italians themselves and earning the title of the world’s best pizza not once, but three times.
I first wandered in on a rainy Manhattan evening, unaware I was about to experience something extraordinary. What makes this place so remarkable isn’t just the crust or the toppings—it’s the devotion, precision, and artistry that elevate each pie into a masterpiece worthy of global acclaim.
The Italian Stamp of Approval
Imagine my shock when I learned that 50 Top Pizza – Italy’s most respected pizza authority – had named this NYC spot #1 globally not once but three times! In 2022, 2024, and again in 2025, Italian experts who live and breathe pizza culture declared Una Pizza Napoletana the world’s finest.
This isn’t some random internet list. These judges evaluate everything from dough elasticity to ingredient sourcing with scientific precision. They travel anonymously, paying their own way to ensure honest assessments.
When I mention this accolade to Italian friends, they first deny it’s possible, then reluctantly admit: “Yes, we’ve heard. It’s causing quite the controversy back home.”
Anthony Mangieri: The Dough Whisperer
The first time I watched Anthony Mangieri work his magic, I stood mesmerized by his monastic focus. This isn’t just a chef – he’s a dough philosopher who has spent decades perfecting a single craft.
Mangieri starts his day mixing dough by hand, feeling rather than measuring its readiness. No assistants touch his creations; every pizza bears his personal imprint.
What struck me most was his refusal to expand or franchise despite global acclaim. “Quality suffers with scale,” he told me once, sliding a perfectly blistered Margherita into his 900-degree oven. His dedication explains why Italian masters now make pilgrimages to his humble counter.
Simplicity That Stuns
The menu knocked me sideways with its brevity – just four classic pies! No buffalo chicken option. No pineapple debates. Just Margherita, Marinara, Cosacca, and Bianca, each stripped to its essential elements.
The San Marzano tomatoes taste like they were plucked from volcanic soil yesterday. The mozzarella melts with a creaminess that makes me wonder if there’s a secret cow hidden somewhere in Manhattan.
“We don’t need to complicate perfection,” the server explained when I asked about toppings. This radical simplicity forces each ingredient to stand naked before your palate. Nothing hides behind flavor distractions – and nothing needs to.
Dough Science Meets Artisan Soul
The crust changed my understanding of what bread can be. Impossibly light yet structurally sound, with a tangy complexity that comes from Mangieri’s 24-hour fermentation process.
I’ve watched him test hydration levels by feel, adjusting for the day’s humidity like a weather-reading farmer. Each batch receives individualized attention – a relationship more than a recipe.
What’s remarkable is how the edge (that “cornicione” the Italians obsess over) achieves perfect leopard-spotting without burning. This balance between char and chew represents decades of obsessive tweaking. When Italians themselves admit this American has mastered their ancestral technique, you know something extraordinary has happened.
The Pilgrimage Experience
Getting a seat feels like winning a culinary lottery. The tiny space holds just 35 diners, and operates only Thursday through Saturday evenings.
My first visit required planning weeks ahead. The minimalist interior – all white walls and wooden tables – focuses attention squarely on what matters: that glorious oven and the pies emerging from its fiery mouth.
Fellow diners speak in hushed tones, as if we’ve entered a food cathedral. Everyone seems aware they’re participating in something special. The staff moves with purpose rather than hurry, each pie served when it reaches perfection, not a moment before. This isn’t fast food; it’s slow art.
Ingredient Sourcing That Borders On Obsession
The flour arrives directly from Naples. The olive oil comes from a single family-owned grove. Even the sea salt has a pedigree!
I once overheard Mangieri refuse a delivery because the tomatoes didn’t meet his exacting standards. This wasn’t about freshness – they simply didn’t have the precise acidity profile he demands.
What’s fascinating is how these premium ingredients are used with monastic restraint. Nothing is piled high for Instagram appeal. Each component serves the whole, creating harmony rather than competing for attention. This disciplined approach to sourcing and application has Italian producers shipping their finest goods across the Atlantic just to see how Mangieri transforms them.
The Humility Behind Greatness
Last summer, I watched three Italian pizza critics nearly weep after their first bites. They hadn’t believed American pizza could rival their homeland’s best. Their conversion was immediate and complete.
What impressed me most was Mangieri’s response to their praise. No swagger. No victory lap. Just a quiet nod and return to his craft.
This humility permeates everything about Una Pizza. No flashy signage announces its global status. No prices reflect its fame. The place operates with the quiet confidence of someone who knows their work speaks for itself. Perhaps this authenticity explains why Italian masters now acknowledge that the world’s best pizza requires a passport to experience – but not the one they expected.