We came to assess the pizzas—famous for their perfectly thin, crisp-bottomed crusts—and left smitten with them and much more. The building itself is a downscale charmer: a former Magnolia gas station, circa 1930, sited on a grassy lot with both indoor and (some) covered outdoor seating. We ordered at the counter and grabbed seats inside beside a rolling garage door—it is opened when the weather’s nice. An order of flash-fried artichoke hearts and crispy salami made an addictive, shareable starter for our foursome; the vegetables’ crisp, chip-like petals were so tasty that we hardly needed the aioli that came alongside. Next up were two flavorful pizzas, the Montreal, a modern white pie topped with wild mushrooms, caramelized fennel, and goat cheese, and the Edgefield, a hearty, red-sauced pizza topped with pepperoni, sausage, onion, green peppers, mushrooms, and Kalamata olives. The fillings stayed put on the agreeably chewy but never droopy crusts. The sandwiches we tried were equally impressive. We stayed in our comfort zone with a righteous sub packed with spicy fennel-flecked meatballs bathed in zesty marinara and topped with molten cheeses. But we were most impressed and surprised with the fried-mortadella sandwich: the thin slices of pan-griddled, fine-textured pork sausage acquired crispy edges while rendering some of their fat, and a savory-sweet pistachio pesto made an insanely good condiment. An Italian wine list is a nice surprise in such an informal setting.