Dear Friends,

Houston has never been, nor was it ever destined to be, a pizza city. Mexican, barbeque, and Chinese, perhaps, but Italian cuisine has missed this endlessly concrete city. It is not an insult; it is history, or at least the result of it. While the waves of Italian immigrants arrived in the port cities of Providence, New York, and Philadelphia on the East Coast and also New Orleans and San Francisco, Texas watched those few who crossed the Gulf settle almost exclusively in Galveston. And let us be clear: Galveston was never “the Ellis Island of the West,” no matter how ridiculously some repeat that myth.

The Hurricane of 1900 was not the reason Houston climbed past Galveston, although it has been implied by some. By 1900, Houston had already surpassed its coastal neighbor in population and prospects. But the Italians were not part of that Houstonian growth spurt. Most Italians who came ashore in Texas remained in Galveston or moved modestly inland to Dickinson, not onward to Houston. Italians in Galveston grew from 255 in 1890 to 1,030 in 1910, many laboring in the grocery trade. Houston, by contrast, welcomed far more Germans, Irish, and English than Italians. There was no pizza in Houston.

By 1910, 2.3% of Galveston’s population hailed from Italy. The Galveston underworld then was controlled not by Sicilians but by a man named Quinn, himself the son of Arkansans. But change was on the horizon, as the Sicilian Maceo family arrived from Leesville, Louisiana in 1910 (this is the same family that makes the laughable claim that they invented the muffuletta!). In time, brothers Sam and Rosario would rise during Prohibition, learning under Quinn, and concentrating regional criminal influence in the 1930s. Yet even then, pizza was nowhere to be found in Galveston or Houston.

Pizza’s first documented appearance in Houston is 1947, at Vincent’s, decades later than places like New Orleans, Trenton, and New Haven. Vincent Vallone, who arrived from Sicily in 1908, introduced it at his downtown restaurant on Calhoun. Like many immigrants, he began in the grocery markets around Market Square. He rose quickly during Prohibition years, and was accused in 1937 of working with international drug organization. He beat that charge, but a year later he killed a man in an illegal casino in Houston. He was sentenced to life, but only served eight years thanks to the intervention of the Maceos, Frank Costello, and Bugsy Siegel.

Pardoned, Vallone resumed his restaurant work. He sought to expand with an ambitious new project at 1499 Fannin, the Sorrento. Part restaurant, part entertainment house, with rumors of an underground casino, he never saw Sorrento completed. He was gunned down in a high speed chase not far from his house south of downtown. His last phone call was to Carlos Marcello. Was it a Mafia hit? Almost certainly, but no one ever was convicted.

Yet his family endured, and Tony’s, opened in 1965 by his grandson Anthony, still stands as Houston’s most distinguished restaurant over the last six decades.

Though Vallone introduced pizza to Houston, it was Valian’s, founded in 1955 on South Main, that became the city’s first true pizzeria. It was for many Houstonians their first pizza experience. Antonio’s Flying Pizza, opened in 1971 by Sicilian immigrant Antonio Rosa (who had previously owned a shop in Brooklyn), remains Houston’s longest continuously operating pizzeria. Star Pizza followed five years later, founded by a Chicago native and best known for bringing deep dish to Houston.

The 1970s and early ’80s brought a wave of national chains, but also the founding of cherished local establishments like Barry’s (1983) and Fuzzy’s (1984). Fuzzy’s was famously President George H. W. Bush’s favorite, a reminder that growing up amidst the fine pizzas of Connecticut does not guarantee one carries the wisdom to judge them rightly. Founded by a Syrian immigrant who claimed to have arrived in America with just $50, Fuzzy’s is testament to the fact that anyone can make it on the Houston pizza scene.

The 1990s changed little. There were more mediocre chains, some respectable newcomers like Candelari’s and Frank’s, but no genuine transformation.

Real Neapolitan quality finally arrived with Dolce Vita in 2006. Pizaro’s followed in 2011, the city’s first VPN certified pizzeria. Pizaro’s, though, has tumbled. My last visit there was bad. Today, the only VPN certified pizzeria in the Houston area is a food truck in The Woodlads. Is this a humiliation for Houston or evidence that VPN is an elitist, worthless institution? I will let you decide.

The 2010s brought a wave of Neapolitan pizzerias, followed by Detroit-style enthusiasts. And yet, for all this proliferation, Houston still lacks a single respectable slice shop. If anyone ever suggests Home Slice or Pink’s as evidence to the contrary, you may safely disregard all future pizza opinions from that individual.

Houston history, like most of its pizza through the years, lacks any flavor. Writing about it is both difficult and nap-inducing. Nevertheless, I shall still embark on a top ten list, for your education and edification.