10 Hole In The Wall New Jersey Pizzerias Only Regulars Whisper About
This is a guide for anyone chasing the quiet heart of New Jersey’s pizza scene. Away from the crowded boardwalks and bright storefronts, these ten pizzerias work in smaller moments: a dough ball turned by hand, the pop of sauce meeting heat, the smell of crust just starting to char.
Locals know them well and speak of them with a mix of pride and protectiveness. I set out hungry and left convinced that the simplest shops often hold the most character.
“Hole in the wall” here means comfort, consistency, and care. So lace up, bring a few friends, and get ready for the kind of pizza that rewards curiosity as much as appetite.
1. Santillo’s Brick Oven Pizza (Elizabeth)
The hum of the old oven fills the room, it’s the heartbeat here. You can feel history in the air: a century of flour, heat, and patience folded into every pie. The vibe is working-class, proud, a little chaotic in the best way.
Pizzas come out with blistered crusts and bright tomato perfume. The “1948 Style” pie, baked longer for crunch, is a local rite of passage.
Walking out, you’ll still feel the warmth of that oven on your jacket, like you’ve carried a piece of the past with you.
2. Star Tavern (Orange)
Cheese slides thin over a crisp crust so light it cracks between your fingers, that first bite delivers pure crunch. This is bar-pizza perfected through decades of repetition.
Opened in 1945, Star’s thin-crust pies are family-made, served in a no-frills bar where regulars swap stories under amber light. The recipe hasn’t changed, and that’s the point.
You might want to skip the knife and fold your slice hot off the tray. It’s how locals do it, and it’s the only way to keep the cheese where it belongs.
3. Conte’s Pizza (Princeton)
You hear the clatter of bottles before the smell of sauce hits—an odd sensory mix of beer, basil, and toasted crust. That’s Conte’s charm.
The vibe feels untouched since 1950: red booths, wood paneling, and a pizza counter that runs like a well-oiled time machine. The pies are thin, saucy, and almost delicate in balance.
I ordered sausage and onion, and it came out perfect, edges charred just enough. Eating it felt like joining a secret Princeton club, one slice at a time.
4. Papa’s Tomato Pies (Robbinsville)
A swirl of steam greets you before you see the oven, carrying the scent of tomatoes and char. It’s that simple sensory hit that tells you the place has age and confidence.
Papa’s, opened in 1912, is the country’s oldest continuously run pizzeria. Cheese goes first, then sauce, Trenton style, and the mustard pie is still the conversation piece.
I suggest you ask for the crust well-done and the mustard under-sauce. It sounds bold, but that tang against sweet tomato is pure alchemy.
5. DeLorenzo’s Tomato Pies (Robbinsville)
Alexander “Chick” DeLorenzo’s grandson still runs the place, and his precision shows in every movement: dough stretched with measured pulls, sauce ladled like ritual. You sense pride in every detail.
The pie comes crisp, sauce-forward, and scattered with just the right amount of cheese. It’s Trenton-style, but sleeker, polished without losing its roots.
I took one bite and stopped talking, just nodded. It’s that kind of pizza, where the room fades and you realize the family’s been perfecting this for seventy-five years.
6. Pete & Elda’s Bar / Carmen’s Pizzeria (Neptune City)
Summer crowds spill from the bar onto the sidewalk, paper plates stacked, ocean air sneaking in through the door. There’s noise, laughter, and the occasional cheer when someone wins a free pie.
The pies here are famously thin, cracker-style, light enough to justify two. Locals chase the “Whole Pie Eater” challenge, which is more joy than competition.
If you’re visiting in summer, grab a beer, find a corner table, and surrender to it. Pizza this light disappears faster than good intentions.
7. Vic’s Italian Restaurant (Bradley Beach)
A clatter of plates meets the smell of garlic as you walk in, and the chatter feels half-family reunion, half-seaside ritual. The vibe is cozy but bustling, everyone seems to know someone.
Vic’s has been here since 1947, holding tight to its recipe for crisp, saucy pies that bridge Italian-American comfort and beach-town ease. You’ll also find pasta and clams, but the pizza keeps the spotlight.
Go in the late afternoon, right before dinner rush. That’s when the crusts come out perfectly blistered, never rushed.
8. Maruca’s Tomato Pies (Seaside Heights)
The swirl of sauce catches your eye before the smell hits, it’s painted in circles, not spread, and that spiral is its signature. It looks hypnotic, like art you can eat.
The boardwalk setting brings noise, gulls, and sea-salt air that somehow fits. Founded in 1950, Maruca’s helped define Jersey’s tomato-pie identity: sweet sauce on top, just enough cheese to anchor it.
I ate mine watching waves crash beyond the neon lights. It was messy, loud, and utterly perfect, summer distilled into a slice.
9. Kinchley’s Tavern (Ramsey)
You’ll notice the ceiling fans first, they spin lazily over wooden booths and beer signs that look older than most guests. The vibe is old-school tavern, all charm and chatter.
Their specialty is thin-crust pizza that shatters at the bite, with toppings layered to the edge so nothing feels wasted. Pepperoni curls into crisp little cups, catching the cheese like confetti.
If you’re smart, you’ll pair it with a cold draft and stay a while. Nobody here’s in a hurry, least of all the oven.
10. Mack’s Pizza (Wildwood)
The smell of tomato and ocean air blend before you even see the sign, it’s a sensory blur that belongs only to the Jersey Shore. The floor still hums faintly from passing boardwalk crowds, and you can hear the laughter of beachgoers between songs from nearby arcades.
Mack’s has been slinging pies since 1953, and they’ve kept their formula untouched: thin, chewy crust, sweet sauce, and gooey cheese that melts into every corner. Nothing fancy, just balance.
I ate mine standing by the counter, sand still on my feet, and felt completely, quietly content.