Castle is a monument to pizza nostalgia

Castle is a monument to pizza nostalgia
By Andrea Lin
Paneling, faded carpet gorund down by all of sneakerdom, vinyl booths easy to wipe down after assaults by marauding 5

year-olds, and periodic pinging noises from a cluster of video and pinball games - these are the things that put the parlor

in a pizza parlor. The pizza doesnt even have to be great; it needs only to keep coming hot and gooey out of the ovens.

However, I came to Pizza Castle armed with feedback, looking for slices that could pass muster in New York City.
Truly a sign of the times, pizza shops are opening all over town, satisfying the hunger for an inexpensive meal that a

family can share. While those new shops settle into kitchen staff and signature topping combinations, I would like to bring

your focus to one of the most established and old-school pizza parlors in town, where you can have your pie and play

pinball, too, hidden in a strip on Eubank.
The previously mentioned part of 5-year-olds hopped up and down while I ordered my way around the toppings list--pepperoni

and green chile, veggie overload, even ham and mushroom. Each wedge is perfectly sized. You could eat two, and a third might

suffice for a snack later, a baragin at $2.25 plus $0.35 cents for each extra. No gourmet additions will distract from your

floppy, yet resilient pie. The ham is thin and salty, the mushrooms out, just like pizza I ate as a kid.
The chewy crust raises the bar for several other places in town, with a substantial edge that invites gnawing long after

the "good stuff" is gone. No, it's not superbly flavored or charred for a crazy-hot oven, but it works. I folded a slice

before taking the first bite, enjyoing the heat from the extra-hot green chile. I do miss a tart and tangy tomato sauce. In

fact, I miss tasting much sauce at all on my slices, an oversight I hope is not egregious on the whole pizzas ($7.50 and up

for 12-,16- and 18-inch).
Now one topping that could be considered high-end is the meatballs, marble sized and with a tenderness that makes me thing

grandma's recipe is in the kitchen somewhere, scrawled on a stained notecard. Pizza castle also tackles sub sandwiches both

cold and hot, the meatball ($3.75) leading the pack.
On a chewy loaf of french bread, I delighted in the copious marinara I missed from the pizza and a lineup of those meatballs

under a cheesy blanket.
Save for a garden side salad ($1.75) unflichingly garnished with pepperoni slices along with croutons and veggies, the menu

stops there. No pasta, no attempt at desserts ceratinly nothing but pure attention given to the fresh dough you'll see being

stretched and twirled behind the laminated counter/ Tip them well, for they clearly love what they're doing, and save a few

quarters for honing your pinball skills.