Salvation’s a godsend for those Northeastern transplants who miss a truly thin-crust pie. The trick to a great Connecticut crust like this one is to get it thin enough so that the oil and cheese make up part of its flavor; it can be squishy-salty, or crisper, like this one, and the sum of all of its ingredients must be better than its parts. Bullseye.

The white pie with basil and fresh tomato has that signature high-heat sweetness; be warned, though, people, these folks are not, we repeat not, shy with the fresh garlic. Another great pie is the #6, although the olives are of the insipid black-and-boring variety; it’s the jalapeños that are a pleasant surprise, really, like a relish mixed in seamlessly with the tomato sauce. Clams are totally chewy and dried out—this is one instance where we’d suggest holding off until you can make it to the Eastern seaboard.

As always with good pizza, we recommend eating in, as soon as it’s ready. The little bungalow on 34th Street is a sweet, homey spot, especially the front patio. You may have to wait a long time for your pie (another Connecticut tradition), but excellent, garden-tasting salads and local draft beers will help you pass the time with little complaint.