This Famous New York Pizzeria Has Been Serving Slices The Same Way Since The ’70s

Welcome to Joe’s Pizza, tucked on the corner of Carmine Street in Greenwich Village, a spot that has become nothing short of legendary since opening its doors in 1975.

For nearly five decades, this unassuming little shop has defined exactly what a true New York slice should be—thin, foldable, cheesy, and utterly perfect in its simplicity.

One bite and you’re not just enjoying pizza, you’re experiencing a piece of living history, a flavor that has remained gloriously unchanged even as the city around it constantly reinvents itself. Joe’s isn’t just a pizzeria—it’s a New York institution.

The Original Recipe Never Changed

Joe Pozzuoli Sr. brought his pizza-making magic from Naples to New York with a simple philosophy: don’t mess with perfection. The same flour blend, the same sauce recipe, and the same cheese ratio have remained unchanged for nearly 50 years.

I remember my first Joe’s slice in 1992. The taste was revelatory—that perfect balance of tangy sauce and creamy cheese. When I returned last month, that first bite transported me back instantly.

Many establishments tweak recipes chasing trends, but Joe’s understood something profound: true classics don’t need updating. This steadfast commitment to the original recipe is why lines still form around the block.

Family-Owned Through Generations

Family legacy adds flavor you simply can’t manufacture. While pizza chains expanded with corporate efficiency, Joe’s remained firmly in family hands, passing down techniques and standards that no manual could capture.

My cousin worked briefly at Joe’s in the ’90s and told me how Joe Sr. would inspect each pie with eagle eyes. That same watchful care continues today under his son’s guidance.

The Pozzuoli family doesn’t just own a business—they’re guardians of a culinary tradition. Each family member who steps behind the counter carries the weight of that heritage, ensuring every slice meets the standard that made their name legendary.

Coal-Fired Ovens From The Beginning

Those magnificent old ovens aren’t just equipment—they’re time machines. Installed when the shop opened, these workhorses have developed a seasoning that new ovens simply cannot replicate.

Standing near the counter, you can feel the radiating heat that has baked millions of pies. The distinctive char marks on the crust come from decades of consistent temperature and the unique thermal properties of well-used bricks.

Once during a citywide blackout, Joe’s was one of the few places still serving food. Those old-school ovens didn’t need electricity to work their magic, proving that sometimes the old ways truly are the best ways.

No-Frills Counter Service Experience

“What’ll ya have?” The straightforward question hasn’t changed since 1975. No apps, no online ordering systems—just direct human interaction that feels increasingly rare in our digital world.

The ritual remains gloriously simple: order your slice, watch it reheat, pay cash (though they reluctantly accept cards now), then find your spot at the counter. The absence of unnecessary frills keeps prices reasonable and lines moving.

During my last visit, I watched three generations of a family experience this ritual together. The grandfather smiled knowingly at his granddaughter’s wide-eyed reaction to her first proper New York slice—another convert to tradition.

The Perfect Cheese-to-Sauce Ratio

Pizza perfection lives in the balance. Too much cheese smothers the flavor; too little leaves you with saucy bread. Joe’s has maintained the golden ratio that makes their slices legendary—enough cheese to stretch into those Instagram-worthy pulls, but never overwhelming the bright tomato base.

Friends from Chicago often argue with me about deep dish versus New York-style. I simply bring them to Joe’s and watch their faces after one bite.

What’s remarkable is how consistent this balance remains. Whether your slice comes from the first pie of the day or the last one before closing, that ratio stays impeccably calibrated—a testament to practiced hands that work from muscle memory, not measuring cups.

Celebrities And Locals Share The Same Line

Leonardo DiCaprio waits behind construction workers. Supermodels stand behind college students. At Joe’s, fame grants no privileges—everyone wants the same thing and everyone waits their turn.

The walls feature photos of famous visitors, yet the staff treats everyone identically. This democratic approach to service has created a uniquely New York experience where status dissolves in the face of great food.

Last summer, I watched a well-known actor patiently waiting his turn, chatting with tourists who had no idea who he was. When someone finally recognized him, he just smiled and said, “The pizza’s worth the wait.” That’s the magic of Joe’s—it’s an equalizer in a city of hierarchies.

The Art Of The Fold Remains Sacred

True New Yorkers know the move. Fold the slice lengthwise, creating a structural support that prevents the tip from drooping. This technique isn’t just practical—it’s a cultural ritual that Joe’s has preserved while other places chase gimmicks.

My uncle, born and raised in Brooklyn, taught me the fold when I was seven years old. “This is how you eat pizza in New York,” he said with absolute seriousness.

Watching first-time visitors at Joe’s is entertaining—the locals instinctively fold, while tourists often attempt to eat their slices flat until they observe the natives. It’s a small detail that represents something bigger: respecting tradition in a world constantly chasing the next trend.