Pizza Pro Travel Tip: How to go pizza hunting in a strange town (Hello, blisters!)

​So, if you’re like me and you suddenly find yourself traveling to Texas, you already know this: The first thing to be asking yourself is, “Where is the great pizza?”
 
Good pizza has become abundant and ubiquitous—even in the beef barbecue state. And the first thing I did when preparing for this trip is open Google Maps, zero in on our little Lone Star State town of destination, and say to Alphabet Empire's Genie of Geography, “Pizza!”
 
Color me shocked. Far more choices than even I expected. But then again, it’s Texas. Even the amount of pizza per capita is huge. And now: How to choose?

Here now, my three simple tips to begin hunting for pizza in a strange town. This method is not foolproof, but it is helpful in beginning to separate the pizza-flour wheat from the chaff in the foreign land of uncredentialized pizzerias.
 
If you’re at all search savvy, you’re going to say one of two things: “Why didn’t I think of that?”, or “Duh.” I can’t help any of that. 
 
 
1. Look for Google reviews with high star count and a high review tally.
 
As you know, Google reviews are never the best way to tell if something is actually good.
 
Case in point: There’s a great, wood-fired artisan pizzeria in Mississippi. For their first six years, they played second fiddle to the local Domino’s.
 
That said, we now live in a different age. The populous is becoming more pizza savvy. Today, that same pizzeria has a number of reviews equal to (and a rating higher than) the local Domino’s. But it took them years of pushing that dough ball up the mountain. It’s a market that required an education in pizza.
 
You also don’t need to be a statistician to know that when you’re looking at one joint with a 5.0 and another with a 4.6, the number of reviews matters.

When Mr. 5.0 has only seven reviews (written by his wife, daughters, and best friend), and Mr. 4.6 has 1,207 reviews (e.g., the entire population of some small towns in Mississippi), the real winner is probably the guy with the lower score.
 
I’m going to guess that Mr. 5.0 probably does not have a great pizza joint. What he probably has is a struggle. But maybe not. You could go and find out. And what do the pictures look like? (More on that in a moment.)
 
 
2. Scan the reviews for telltale comments by people who seem to know--or not know--things.
 
One complaint that’s commonly lodged against world-famous New Haven-style pizzas (known as “apizza”) is “It’s burnt!” 
 
The pizza is not burnt. It’s charred. And most good pizzas exhibit some element of char even in the tiniest ways. (Look at authentic wood-fired Neapolitan pizza, with its tiny leopard spots around the rim.)
 
You know which pizzas don’t have char? Domino’s. Pizza Hut. Papa John’s. Little Caesars. Insert the name your favorite lowest-common-denominator delivery chain here.
 
The hallmark of successful chain pizza is a relentless pursuit of the middle. Some recognize this as a foolish consistency, which is the hobgoblin of little minds. (It’s also adored by little statesman and philosophers and divines, but we will leave Ralph Waldo Emerson and the pizza of Walden Pond for another day.)
 
I’m not slamming Domino’s Et Al. They’re just capitalizing on a market. Instead, I’m talking to you, oh member of the pizza cognoscenti—even if you’ve never thought about sniffing out reliable pizzeria reviews among the chatter of the unwashed.
 
If a reviewer speaks with any kind of evident knowledge about the pizza, the components thereof (like cheese, sauce, or especially crust, crumb and char), it’s a tell.
 
Someone whose entire review says, “Burnt!” doesn’t really know or care. Unless they do. Unlikely, but maybe it really was Shinola on a shingle. Again: crapshoot in a pizza box! Which takes us to one of the most visible tells of a mystery pizzeria…
 
 
3. The photos of the pizza don’t lie and the jury can rule.
 
Of my personal top-five pizzas in the US, only two have a Google rating above 4.5. It also happens that those two pizzerias are not on any of the lofty, famous & greatest lists. The other three, lower-ranked joints are justifiably world-famous. I was looking at one of the one-star reviews in which the guy was judging the quality of the pizza based on taking it out and reheating it in his home oven on a broiler pan. I know this because he shows the evidentiary photos.
 
Here's something else I know about those five pizzerias: the ones with the lower ratings have photos of better looking pizza.
 
We’re talking about things like shape, structure, degree of doneness, char, and my personal favorite: telltale blisters!

ABOVE: A vivid example of microblistering on the cornicione. These are my homemade pizzas, which is how I can be certain that they were made from a "pizza-flour" dough that was cold-fermented for 72 hours.  For me, if a pizzeria's online reviews have photos of microblistered crust, it's probably pretty good pizza. 
 
 
So yes, one of the first things I look for in photos accompanying the reviews is microblistering.
 
As you know if you make pizza at home and you let your dough cold ferment, the cornicione (the un-sauced rim around your pizza crust) is never smooth.
 
The edge of your crust always has texture and striations, and there are tiny little blisters in evidence.
 
When a pizza joint online catches my eye, one of the first things I check for is photos of the rim of the crust. If the blisters are in evidence, it usually means this place cares about quality and is interested in doing better. They have taken the time to let the dough ferment, let the yeast and the enzymes do their little dance, and let better pizza happen through patience, purpose and intent.
 
That said, I’ve been fooled even there. A place that a friend recommends showed such blisters in the user photos. So we went. It was a serious disappointment.
 
What happened? I have theories. But at the end of the day, the wild west of pizza dining out is still a crapshoot. But some simple tells help to make an informed decision. 

Ultimately, unless you know you’re visiting a destination pizzeria that’s on a national top 10 list, you have to be willing to take a chance.
 
And sometimes, you just have to go off on a flyer.
 
 
The great pizza unknown on this Texas trip…
 
In our destination near Houston this weekend, there’s a Cuban pizza joint.
 
“A what,” you ask?
 
Yes. I had no idea there’s such a thing, either. But I’m also unsurprised. Cubans can be inventive and passionate cooks who do a lot with a little. And the comments and photos are promising. Maybe there’s a pizza Cubano in my future.
 
What about you? How’s that char? Tell me if you have any great tips of your own for hunting the elusive artisan pizza…
 
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