Another joint with a name that is both mysterious and confusing. Based on its previous signage, it should be called Brick + Dough. But this new facade tells us a different story: Brick & Dough. Which leads me to the question if the plus versus the ampersand actually changes the meaning of the relationship between the “brick” and the “dough” in the name. It took me a few minutes to realize that the “brick” refers to the fact their pizzas are cooked in a brick oven. And the “dough” is obviously what forms the base of said pies. So, by the transitive property, the plus really makes more sense than the ampersand. Brick [oven] plus dough equals good pizza. The “and” just isn’t quite the same thing. These are the types of deep + sophisticated insights into grub you get on this here website. See, the + vs. & thing is real.
Now, this place has gone through quite a few transformations since its inception in 2020. I think it was some sort of pizza shop / bakery hybrid when it first merged with an existing bakery called Luisa in the merged space. The original moniker being something clunky like Brick + Dough: A Wood Fired Eatery. With no hyphen. And sounding more like a post-apocalyptic novel about the last restaurant at the edge of the world. And then the bakery seemingly got phased out and the small space featured mostly counter service and a kind of indoor/outdoor ledge with stools with one of those glass garage doors that rolls up and a few tables if you felt like hanging out. The name at this point pared down to Brick + Dough (as far as I could tell). That was our first visit, and we got our individual, personal-sized pies to go and walked them across the street to the Montclair Brewery to guzzle some beers and listen to music while we enjoyed some hot bread and cheese. It was honestly a perfect setup. The Neapolitan pizza with the natural char from the brick oven, that terrific chewy puffed crust and nice, little cup pepperoni. It’s all a bit of a salt bomb, or at least comes off that way, but it makes that beer go down real nice. It was a really great pairing and made for a lovely evening.
By the time we made it back — not because we didn’t like our first experience, but because we like to continue to be disappointed by our other pizza experiences around town — the restaurant had been transformed, once again, both outside and in. Now a proper eatery, it earned that ampersand (despite my argument above that the plus actually makes more sense) expanded and built out an interior with what looked to be a decent lighting scheme and a proper dining room for families and couples to sit and chow down on everything from their list of eighteen or so different pizzas to the requisite salads, a few sandwiches and some Italian appetizers. I only stood at the front of the space to pick up my to-go order, but from my vantage point, it looked cozy and welcoming, but also modern and a little classier than your typical pie house.
Now, I’m a weirdo when it comes to eating hot food. I like my hot food hot. It’s why I generally don’t do delivery. I’ve been burned too many times — and at least know if I’m picking it up that it will come right out of the kitchen, into my hands and driven directly back to my house and onto the table. No smoke breaks. No stops on the side of the road to argue with the girlfriend on the cell. No dropping by your dealer’s house to get that bag. You get it. Thing is, pizza is tricky. Especially anything non-traditional. Bar pies? Nope, them shits have to be eaten in the same place where they come out of the oven. I’ve had a Star Tavern pizza at some person’s house who drove it home and let it just sit on the counter while we yammered on the couch. It’s not even the same food once it sits for more than five minutes. Same with any kind of thin crust stuff, especially anything coal fired, which is supposed to be really thin and crisp. It cools off real fast and loses any of that luster that makes it what it is.
Brick & Dough pizza is of the Neapolitan variety, meaning the main crust underneath the cheese and toppings is pretty thin, but the back crust (or the part you hold the slice by) is generally puffy and crisped in areas by the quick cook and char from the brick. To be fair, there are “reheating” instructions on their site — which basically just includes throwing it in a pre-heated 500-degree oven for two minutes — but we were so hungry and the pies smelled so good, we just went for it. I think that was a mistake. I do have a feeling I didn’t get the pizza right out of the oven when I got there and my drive home is under five minutes, but by the time we bit into the first slice, it was pretty much a little warmer than room temperature. Not their fault — that’s just the law of thermodynamics. Says my brain trying to recall what I learned in high school. But we absolutely should have taken the two extra minutes to reheat the pizzas, as it would have enhanced the experience exponentially. As it stood, the pizzas — pepperoni and a meatball & ricotta — were flavorful and the dough satisfyingly chewy. The cheese was plentiful, but not overly so. And generally everything is as it should be. Would I order the meatball and ricotta again? Probably not — it kind of overwhelmed the pie. I think simple is best with these individual-sized pies, and the crust isn’t of the crisp variety, so it struggles a little bit to support heavier meat and dairy items. The slices actually reheated really well the next day, which is what led me to the conclusion I should have stuck them in the oven for those two minutes to begin with. Live and learn.
110 Walnut St. – Montclair
973/707-5153
brickanddough.com
