Pizza: there’s no better food in the world when you’re in a complete stupor. I’m talking less about the drunken kind than the dead dog tired, haven’t slept in like a million years, zombie-like trance type of thing. That’s about the condition I was in when patronizing this establishment–and that may have been a good thing. Stumbling down from Mount Sinai hospital after the birth of the crown prince, I was almost ready to trade him for an hour of sleep and a slice of pizza. Luckily Famiglia happened to be within stumbling distance, and while it didn’t help my sleep deprivation, it certainly filled my need for sustenance. The place itself is one of those narrow, somewhat rundown places that The City is so famous for, but it honestly hit the spot in my rumbling gut. While my memory of that whole day is pretty foggy, I seem to recall eating a chicken roll (my usual), but it could have been pizza, or even a stack of napkins and a wax cup. Seriously, I was that messed up. In any case, I’m sure this joint is totally serviceable, and is probably a great option for people who happen to live within two blocks of the place. Everyone in Manhattan must have his or her neighborhood safety slice place, and this is surely as good as any. [MF]