INFLATION
The $47 (!) Manhattan Pizza — And Why We Refused to Eat It
I will never pay $47 for a pizza. You have to be out of your mind to pay $47 for a pizza. You have to be not only utterly starving but utterly stupid. You have to be either dying from hunger or desperate to prove a point on a first date. But here’s your latest inflation report from New York City: someone is paying $47 for a pizza. Friday night at Artichoke Basille’s Pizza on 10th Avenue, multiple parties were. My boyfriend and I refused.
Oh, they’re a famous pizza joint? Here’s how much I care: 0.
It had been a long week. I was back to production on a short film, after three years of waiting, the longest slog of my life. It was an intense week, one in which I was lucky to scoff down salad parts or the odd Sour Patch Kid. By Friday night, just minutes after we “wrapped,” all I wanted in the world was a quiet evening with my love and with my favorite comfort food: pizza. Which, by the way, is bread and cheese and sauce. Not flour spun into shining gold.
We walked in. We sat. They served us water. Tap. I politely asked for a paper menu because I refuse to use my phone at the dinner table nor in place of a once-treasured staple of the restaurant experience. Call me crabby, but, yes, I am that guy. No one is getting Covid in 2023 from a paper menu. I also…
