5 Illinois Deep‑Dish Pizzerias To Avoid & 5 That Own The Pan
As a Chicago native, I’ve eaten more deep-dish pizza than most doctors would recommend.
This iconic Illinois specialty, with its towering crust and lake of cheese, isn’t something you want to gamble on.
I’ve had the stomach-churning disappointment of bad deep-dish and the life-affirming joy of the perfect pie.
Today, I’m sharing my hard-earned pizza wisdom so you can skip the duds and head straight for the legends.
1. Giordano’s: Tourist Trap Disappointment
My cousin from New York insisted we try Giordano’s during his visit last summer. Big mistake! While they once served respectable pies, many locations have fallen victim to corporate expansion and quality control issues.
The crust arrived soggy and undercooked, practically dissolving under the weight of bland sauce and rubbery cheese. The wait time? A staggering 75 minutes for what amounted to an expensive bread bowl filled with lukewarm ingredients.
Their reputation rides on past glory and tourist dollars rather than consistent quality. Skip the Instagram-famous cheese pull shots and find somewhere that still cares about the craft. Your taste buds (and dinner companions) will thank you.
2. Nancy’s Pizza: Frozen Food Masquerading As Fresh
Remember when I brought Nancy’s to my brother’s housewarming and everyone politely ate one slice? The embarrassment still haunts me! Nancy’s has expanded too quickly, sacrificing quality for quantity.
The sauce tastes suspiciously like it came from a can, with an artificial sweetness that overpowers everything else. Their cheese lacks that gooey, fresh-melted quality that makes deep-dish worth the calories. Instead, it congeals into a rubbery mass that separates from the crust after the first bite.
Most locations seem to pre-make their crusts, resulting in that distinctive freezer-to-oven texture. When you’re paying premium prices for deep-dish, you deserve better than glorified frozen pizza.
3. Pizzeria Ora: All Flash, No Flavor
Last anniversary, my wife and I gambled on Pizzeria Ora after seeing their flashy ads. The modern interior with its Edison bulbs and reclaimed wood tables had us hopeful. Our optimism vanished with the first bite.
Despite charging premium prices, Ora delivers a pie that’s all style and no substance. The crust lacks that distinctive cornmeal crunch, instead offering a flabby, pale imitation of proper deep-dish. Their sauce—the cornerstone of any good Chicago pie—tastes like it was seasoned by someone who’s never actually eaten tomatoes.
The toppings appeared measly and unevenly distributed, as if the kitchen was under strict rationing. When you’re dropping serious cash on deep-dish, you shouldn’t leave feeling both disappointed and still hungry.
4. Suparossa: Stuck In The Past (Not In A Good Way)
My dad swore by Suparossa in the 80s, so I visited for nostalgia’s sake. Unfortunately, they’re resting on decades-old laurels while ignoring modern quality standards. The restaurant itself feels trapped in a time warp—and not the charming kind.
Their deep-dish arrives with a crust that’s simultaneously burnt around the edges and undercooked in the center. The sauce lacks any distinctive seasoning, tasting flat and uninspired. Most concerning was the cheese quality—that slightly off flavor suggesting it might have seen better days.
Service moves at a glacial pace, with our pizza taking nearly 90 minutes to arrive on a not-particularly-busy Tuesday. When Chicago offers so many excellent pizza options, there’s no reason to settle for mediocrity preserved in amber.
5. Bacino’s: Overpriced Mediocrity
After my company’s holiday party at Bacino’s last December, half our team ended up ordering late-night sandwiches to fill the void left by their disappointing pies. Despite their “famous stuffed pizza” claims, what arrived was an identity crisis on a plate.
The crust lacked structural integrity, collapsing under minimal pressure and creating a soupy mess. Their cheese blend was oddly sweet and grainy, suggesting pre-shredded bag cheese rather than quality dairy. The sauce—sparse and under-seasoned—couldn’t compensate for the other shortcomings.
Most unforgivable is their pricing, which suggests a premium experience that never materializes. When you’re paying top dollar in a city famous for pizza, expectations rightfully soar. Bacino’s fails to reach even moderate altitude.
6. Lou Malnati’s: The Gold Standard
My first Chicago apartment was three blocks from Lou Malnati’s, which probably explains why I gained fifteen pounds that year. Worth it! Their butter crust—crisp, flaky, and with that distinctive cornmeal texture—sets the foundation for pizza perfection.
The cheese is always Wisconsin-fresh mozzarella, applied with a generous but not excessive hand. Their chunky tomato sauce deserves special praise—bright, tangy, and seasoned with a secret blend that I’ve tried (and failed) to replicate at home numerous times.
Unlike chains that cut corners, Lou’s maintains remarkable consistency across locations. The Malnati Chicago Classic with sausage, extra cheese, and that vine-ripened tomato sauce represents deep-dish in its most perfect form. I’ve converted many a New York pizza snob with just one slice.
7. Pequod’s Pizza: Caramelized Crust Wizardry
My birthday tradition involves a Pequod’s pizza and zero regrets. Their signature caramelized crust—cheese baked directly against the pan until it forms a blackened, crispy ring—creates a textural contrast that’s practically addictive.
The interior stays pillowy and tender while supporting substantial toppings without sogginess. Their sauce strikes the perfect balance between sweet and acidic, complementing rather than competing with the other elements. The restaurant itself maintains that neighborhood joint atmosphere despite its legendary status.
Fair warning: wait times can stretch to hours during peak periods, but they’ve mastered the art of making you feel the wait was worthwhile. While purists might argue it’s not traditional deep-dish, Pequod’s represents Chicago pizza evolution at its finest. I’d happily wait in a blizzard for their caramelized cheese edge alone.
8. Art Of Pizza: By-The-Slice Brilliance
Running late for a Cubs game last summer, I grabbed a slice from Art of Pizza. That spontaneous decision changed my deep-dish habits forever! Unlike most competitors, they offer high-quality deep-dish by the slice—a godsend when you don’t want to commit to an entire pie.
Their crust achieves the perfect balance: substantial enough to hold the toppings but never doughy or overwhelming. The sauce deserves poetry—chunky, herb-forward, with just enough sweetness to balance the acidity. Each slice receives a final splash of olive oil before serving, adding a fragrant richness.
Beyond the pizza quality, Art of Pizza remains refreshingly unpretentious. No waiting for a table, no tourist markup, just fantastic deep-dish served without ceremony. For authentic Chicago pizza without the fuss or full-pie commitment, nothing beats their slice counter.
9. Gino’s East: Graffiti Walls And Cornmeal Magic
My first legal beer accompanied a Gino’s East deep-dish twenty years ago, and I’ve been loyal ever since. Their distinctive yellow cornmeal crust provides a satisfying crunch that perfectly complements the generous fillings.
While some locations maintain quality better than others (stick to the original on Superior Street), a properly executed Gino’s pie is a textural masterpiece. The sauce leans slightly sweeter than competitors, with oregano notes that evoke Italian-American heritage. Their sausage deserves special mention—fennel-forward and applied in a patty rather than crumbles.
The graffiti-covered walls add to the experience, creating an atmosphere where you’re encouraged to take your time. Deep-dish isn’t fast food, and Gino’s embraces the leisurely pace required to properly enjoy their creation. Just don’t wear white—that cornmeal gets everywhere!
10. Labriola Chicago: New-School Excellence
When my pizza-skeptic in-laws visited from California, I gambled on Labriola and won their eternal respect. As a relative newcomer to Chicago’s deep-dish scene, Labriola has quickly established itself as worthy of the city’s pizza legacy.
Their crust achieves the impossible—light and airy while still providing structural integrity. The sauce contains visible herbs and garlic pieces, evidence of someone actually cooking rather than opening a can. Cheese distribution shows remarkable restraint, allowing you to taste every component rather than drowning in dairy.
Located right on the Magnificent Mile, they could easily coast on tourist traffic, but instead deliver a product that locals respect. Their deep-dish manages to feel substantial without the leaden quality that can plague lesser versions. For deep-dish that won’t require an immediate nap, Labriola strikes the perfect balance.