This Hawthorne pizzeria was one of the main players in Portland’s pizza revolution when it opened in 2005, serving muscular, 18-inch neo-Neapolitan pies made with eccentric perfectionism and fine-tuned toppings. Not a bad choice to be found here (down to the whole-leaf Caesar salad), but it’s hard to get past the Diablo Bianco, a sauce-free wonder splotched with super-creamy ricotta pools, jalapeño wheels, and a roasted tomato–pumpkin seed pesto that tastes, somehow, like chorizo. —Karen Brooks

You may not think of this café as a pizza joint, but its impressive bakery lays the foundation for some of the best crust in the city. In line with the rest of the menu, pizzas here thrive on simplicity. Take the pomodoro, an unadorned tomato pie that sings with a soulful, oven-roasted sauce and paper-thin garlic reminiscent of Goodfellas. Go for the optional stracciatella (essentially the gooey center of burrata, added to the pizza after cooking) and anchovies and hang out in the gorgeous, sun-drenched dining room. —Matthew Trueherz

One of the city’s most craveable pies—thin, rimless, with a distinctive crisp crackle-crunch. Just the thought can stick in your head like the Succession theme song. The best of them boast little more than concentrated tomatoes and garlic (the Russo) or a wealth of spicy meat (Hail Mary). Being heretics, we crushed hard on a summer special flashing creamed corn butter. The New Haven classic white clam pie has its own following, though insiders note it must be eaten less than 60 seconds out of the oven. Feast Portland’s Mike Thelin describes it in poetic f-bombs, noting “there is nothing else I’d rather eat.” To channel New Haven’s coal oven pies, owner Doug Miriello deploys an electric oven to start, then finishes the rounds in a fire-breathing wood oven hand-built in Naples. Our kind of nut. But note, one person’s char is another’s burned. —KB

Tucked into a stylistic niche all its own, Dove Vivi serves hefty pies atop hearty, crunchy cornmeal crust, reminiscent of a long-gone San Francisco pizzeria called Vicolo. The corn pizza, with or without Italian sausage, dazzles with bursts of sweet corn dotting smoky, stretchy mozzarella (or smoked tomatoes and cashew cream on the vegan version). The indecisive may prefer the chef’s choice, a smorgasbord of slices from six different pizzas. —Katherine Chew Hamilton

More like an escape to New York, this small but mighty pizza spot is dishing out quality slices and pies. A vintage cash register and walls decorated with old photos and newspaper clippings sets the tone of “Yes, we’ve been here for a while (almost 40 years) and it’s because our pizza is damn good.” Fresh dough is tossed in your peripheral vision while you stand in line going back and forth about what to order. Naturally, Escape from New York only offers a handful of classic toppings, including cheese, pepperoni, sausage, Canadian bacon—with green peppers and mushrooms if you’re on a veggie vibe. Scarf down a slice or two to fuel your afternoon shopping, or grab a whole pie to feed the fam. —Dalila Brent

For years, Craig Melillo was a one-man pizza-making machine, baking off some 70-odd pizzas a night in his St. Johns wood-fired oven for a crowd of neighborhood regulars. The team has grown (barely), but still, each of Gracie’s 10-inch pies shows off a beautifully raised and char-blistered edge, the crust lightly nutty and tangy from a leisurely sourdough proof. First-timers should take Melillo’s advice and opt for the tomato pie, a marinara pizza with a sprinkling of pecorino, thin slices of garlic, oregano, and a generous glug of olive oil. A meal-ending scoop of Melillo’s ice cream is nonnegotiable. —Alex Frane

Originally a farmers market pop-up, Grana opened as a brick-and-mortar on East Burnside in 2023, taking over the space that was home to Pizzicato for over a decade. No offense to the Portland-born chain, but it was hardly a lateral move. With an Italian-made wood-fired oven, pizzaiolo Chris Flanagan brings Naples to the inner east side: panuozzo (essentially a pizza sandwich) for lunch, lightly sauced Neapolitan-inspired pies for dinner. Each is made with naturally leavened, three-day-fermented dough (no sourdough here). While red sauce options like the diavola or margherita slap, it’s the white-sauce numbers where Flanagan really flexes. Prime example: the Nonna, with its creamy dollops of ricotta, bright preserved lemon, crunchy broccolini, and scattering of sesame seeds. —AF

Ed Levine, founder of the popular New York–based blog Serious Eats, calls Ken Forkish “one of the world’s great pie men.” Halfway through a spicy fennel sausage and onion pie at the pizzeria Forkish founded, it’s hard to disagree. No bones about where the shop’s heart lies—these wood-fired 12-inchers demand engagement with their leopard-spotted rustic crust, especially when topped with a heaping handful of arugula. Though Forkish has since retired to Hawaii, the pizza is as lively and meticulous as ever, as are starters like the oven-roasted squid in spicy tomato sauce. —KB & KCH

Let’s start with the $8 happy hour margherita pizza, probably the best pizza deal in town. We’re talking tangy, salty crust, with a balanced tomato, mozz, fresh basil topping, and—why not?—a $6 house wine on the side. There’s a reason the lines are out the door at 5:30 as discerning carb loaders try to make it in for the 6pm cutoff. Beyond that particular crowd pleaser, the kale and arugula salad leans sweet but is something of a cult favorite, while the seasonal mushroom pie is the perfect umami bite when you’re ready to splurge (but not much—it’s only $16 after all). Don’t sleep on the pasta either—this is solid spaghetti fare and a steal of a meal for $10. —Fiona McCann

There’s a flavor to the red sauce of a New Jersey pizzeria that’s hard to replicate, some combination of herbs and almost savory tomato concentrated under a force field of bubbly, browning mozz. Lombardo’s gets as close to that flavor as you can in Portland. Pick up a slice and there’s no droop in sight, the crust righteously
crisp and straight as the planks of the boardwalk at Point Pleasant Beach. Look at that cheese—well done, whether it’s unadorned or supporting a layer of crisped soppressata and neon yellow banana pepper rings. Find a true-to-form Trenton tomato pie here, as well as a bar pie, crackery and svelte and appreciably cheesy.—Brooke Jackson-Glidden

Sarah Minnick is the auteur of Portland’s most iconic pizza—deeply connected to Oregon’s most adventurous farmers and in its own flavor land. You’ll taste notes not typically associated with pizza: sour, bitter, funk, floral, and nuanced heat, all pinging off a thin, chewy sourdough crust. Toppings are built around whatever Minnick scores at the farmers market, stinging nettles to fenugreek bok choy raab, plus her imagination and unusual imported cheeses. A moan-worthy pie of rainbow chard, fermented tomatoes, Calabrian chiles, and goat cheese? Yeah, baby—and the weirder it sounds, the better the pie. —KB

Pizza isn’t the only star at Portland’s legendary ristorante Nostrana, but Cathy Whims’s homage to the wood-fired pride of Naples is worth adding to any dinner. A decades-old starter empowers each sourdough crust, providing a zingy base for the mozzarella made in-house daily. When it comes time to order, the margherita is a classic for a reason, and the salumi pie gets a pop of sweet heat from Mama Lil’s Peppers. At Nostrana’s more casual sister bar in the Pearl District, Oven and Shaker, pizzas get more free-form: Consider the porcine-laden Maple Pig with pork belly, smoked ham, and treacly maple syrup. —AF

Nostrana/Oven and Shaker alum Leo Brill started making pizzas in his backyard during the pandemic, donating the proceeds to local organizations like Don’t Shoot PDX and Mxm Bloc. Now, he operates out of Dungeons & Dragons–inspired carts on Alberta and at the Hinterland food cart pod. Paladin’s 16-inch pies exhibit a measured approach—thinner crusts, lighter ingredients, and a wood oven. The follow-up Oathbreaker nods to New York, with a gas oven producing crisp-bottomed pizzas that can support the weight of extra toppings, as well as hearty strombolis. At either location, be sure to snag a few orders of the house-made sauces, like its Calabrian chile crisp. —AF

In 2015, Bunk Sandwiches’ Tommy Habetz founded this family-friendly pizza joint in Cully, an homage to East Coast parlors with swirly soft serve, red-and-white checkered tables, and arcade games to boot. An East Coast transplant, Habetz puts out pies sporting that New York–esque thin crust with toppings commonly spotted at the brick-walled slice shops of yore: pepperoni, black olive, and bell pepper, as well as Connecticut standards like clams. But comprehensive vegan and gluten-free menus make this shop decisively West Coast in approach. Be sure to grab a side of ranch for dipping. —KCH & BJG

At this friendly neighborhood joint, dig into daily pies and behold: that soul-satisfying mix of flop and oil and leopard-spotted char. You could think New York pies, but don’t. The sourdough crust is Portland crust, bread baker’s crust: chewy, alive with natural leavening, with twinges of local rye. Pepperoni is the ticket, but there’s no arguing with the truffle-cheesed, mushroom-centric Wildwood. You could get a whole pie, but this is one of our favorite slice shops in the city right now; mix and match slices to find your favorite. Gluten-free pies available. —KCH & KB

Otto contends with Life of Pie for the best margherita happy hour in Portland, but we think this city is plenty big enough for the two of them. Otto isn’t Vera-certified Neapolitan, but it might as well be for its strict adherence to Italian pizzamaking principles—smaller, minimalist rounds made with high-quality, mostly local ingredients. The result: char-speckled raised edges that surround a delicate center, cooked just enough to melt the cheese, heat the sauce, and blister the underside. But Otto also veers from tradition, particularly with its dessert pizza, a tall and fluffy “canotto” crust filled with ricotta, Nutella, and honey. —AF

When it comes to regional pizza styles, Detroit is a relatively new addition to the Portland scene. Pastry chef and Nuvrei owner Marius Pop opened his eponymous pizzeria in 2020, treating Portlanders to an exemplary version of the thick, rectangular style. With its crispy, caramelized edges, tart pools of tomato sauce, and protective layer of Wisconsin brick cheese and cheddar, it has working-class Motor City charm touched up with the polish of an accomplished baker. Start with the Ezzo pepperoni-topped pie or the Hawaiian with its discs of Canadian bacon—both ideal comfort foods. Or skip the meat and order the three-cheese, garnished with a heap of white truffle arugula. —AF

Sicilian-style square pies, baked in a pan and topped with cheese before the sauce is slathered on top, are what make this all-about-the-crispy-edges spot (now with nine locations) stand out—and it’s pretty big on ranch dressing, too. Other than ranch, pineapple is probably the most controversial pizza accoutrement, and we happen to think they go together quite well here. Ranch’s Hawaiian pizza swaps hearty cubes of bacon-bacon in place of Canadian bacon, plus fresh pineapple as opposed to the canned stuff, and it gets a kick from roasted jalapeño—all of which amounts to a very dippable, compact slice. —MT

Since 2015, this neighborly pizzeria has been making mouthwatering pies that range from classic to stoner (Totino’s-style pepperoni bites, anyone?) to a little bougie (seasonal peach, ricotta, and arugula). But we think you can’t go wrong with the signature It’s Me Nummy, which combines fresh pineapple, beef pepperoni, and jalapeños atop the namesake tangy tomato sauce and a crisp crust. There are plenty of red sauce–less pies here, too, from a vodka-sauce number to a white pie topped with ricotta, red onion, and owner Shardell Dues’s own spicy honey. On weekdays only, you can get any pie served “tavern style” with a thinner, crunchier crust, and on weekends you can score a sandwich
from Big Hank’s Hoagies or a loaf of Dues’s sourdough bread—just be sure to get there early before they sell out. —KCH

An all-black food cart with a wooden awning and paved patio sits on a quiet stretch of Sandy, crowds buzzing outside for some of Portland’s best neo-Neapolitan style pizza. But this wood-fired oven puts out a lot more than Italian creations, as Reeva leans just as much on Central and South America for inspiration. The signature item here is the pizzaleada portafoglio, a cross between a Honduran baleada—a popular street-food dish of refried red beans, cheese, and sour cream in a tortilla—and a Neapolitan folded, or “wallet,” pizza. Reeva’s version relies on a char-kissed pizza crust instead of a tortilla and adds a little extra cheese and crema before folding it into fourths. Not into origami pizza? There’s a regular ol’ flat version, as well. —AF

Picture a pizza—the standard, American pie, from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episodes and college study sessions. That’s how Scottie’s Pizza looks, smells, tastes, save a ring of polka dot char around the edges, a touch of asymmetry, and a wink of sourdough tang. It has an uncanny ability to surpass even the most nostalgic trio of mozz, sweet tomato, and crackly, yeasty crust—especially when you’re downing it directly out of the electric deck oven. No matter what your order is, you’d do well to “jazz it up!” (that’s a finishing touch of oregano, crushed chile peppers, and garlic oil). —AF

Let this punk-rock hole-in-the-wall pizza joint show you just how good vegan pizza can be, complete with a crisp, buttery thin crust. Try the Mount Boring, which combines tangy vegan chevre with basil, mushrooms, olives, and a stellar tomato sauce. Or get the Chalupa Batman, which combines ground taco tofu with tomato, cilantro, and chipotle crema—it’s good enough to make Taco Bell’s Mexican Pizza shake in its boots. —KCH

Once a farmers market staple, now a brick-and-mortar in Multnomah Village, Tastebud was an early leader in the now-popular “Portland” pizza style, sourcing directly from the farms it once neighbored at the Portland Farmers Market: Think roasted summer squash, Baird Family Orchards peaches and prosciutto, red rhubarb with mint and lemon, rainbow chard. While Portland-style pizza is popular enough these days to merit a Chef’s Table feature, it’s always worth a trip to Multnomah Village to visit the OG for a seasonal pizza pie. —AF