Fat Sal’s doesn’t amount to much more than a storefront with a small glass case filled with room temperature pizza. The flies sure seem to like it a lot, but we humans manage to choke down a slice or two on occasion, too. I tend to get the barbecue chicken pizza, which has to be like eight billion calories and about three days’ worth of fat, but is like an entire meal squeezed into one slice of chicken-y goodness. The consensus favorite around the office is the eggplant slice, of which I’ve also partaken, but seems to give me ungodly winds. That eggplant is certainly tasty, but our open work environment isn’t really conducive to the whole intestinal rumblings thing. Sal’s is your prototypical greaseball pizza joint, and as such is just the kind of place that deserves a place in your heart (and carotid artery). [MF]
510 9th Ave. (bet. 38th & 39th St.)
212/594-9462
