I feel like Teglia only comes into being when you’re standing directly in front of it. Otherwise it exists in some dimensional rift that is invisible when viewed from angles or in peoples’ memories. After all, I have been unaware (or willingly ignorant) about this place since its opening in the summer of 2021. Despite walking by it hundreds of times. And only really clocking its existence when happening to glance in its direction. Often thinking to myself: man, we should really try that place; I feel like I’ve heard some locals say it’s their favorite. Only to get ten feet down the block and it’s completely gone from my head.
Though it’s not as if we don’t order pizza on the regular. It’s just never Teglia. So, what caused the brain spark? Brainspark? I don’t know where these things come from. But, as part of our “pizza adventures,” we like to try new pizza joints. And our last one led us on a road trip to SQ Pizza. A spot that creates what is apparently Roman style pizza. Which both SQ and Teglia claim to serve. Though the Internet seems to blanch at the definition. There is something called “pizza al taglio,” which would seem to tie to this joint, but not being an Italian speaker, I’m not even sure taglio and teglia are related words. If I only had a robotic construct that could tell me what’s what. Ah, well, I’ll never know.
Point is, we’d had whatever Roman pizza is recently, and our family taste-tester, Hipster Jr. Jr., hit the ‘net and made a determination that she needed more of this style. And, voila, the robot construct told us that this mystery spot right down the street does, in fact, bake Roman pizza. It seemed like kismet. So, we browsed the menu, hit buy and I mozied my ass down the road to pick up our pies. And then I recalled why this place is low-key. It’s the size of a closet. The owner did a good job of making it feel like it’s been there for 1000 years, what with its pressed tin ceiling, open duct work and diamond-paterened black and white floor. It’s a crammed, DIY space that feels way more lived-in than its five-year tenure on the block. But definitely like a working kitchen that exists to only make pizzas.
Our two pies — a Classic Jersey ($26) and a Roni Cup ($30) — came out of the oven pipping hot and straight into my possession. The proprietor (or whomever the dude was) handing them over with a smile, an “enjoy” and a feeling like he was giving me something he took pride in. You gotta appreciate a local joint that makes you feel like they’ve giving you something bespoke and special. Our usual place makes a decent pizza, but, while also local, feels a little more like a factory than a unique experience. Once home, I eyeballed the pizzas to see if they resembled our other Roman experience. They are rectangular pies baked in pans in a very similar way. Now, I’m not a normally a square pie guy, so I’m sure I’ll screw up my terminology, but these are distinctly different than a grandma pie or a Sicilian pie. I can’t tell you exactly how, but they are, trust me. Teglia’s version is definitely a bit heavier and dense than SQ’s lighter, airier version. Though Teglia’s still has nooks and crannies in their more focaccia-like, risen dough. But has a more oily, buttery thing going on. Not in a negative way, as it adds some richness and heft to things. It’s also crisped-up considerably around the edges that almost caramelizes to give it a distinctive crunch and a nice, savory flavor that you don’t typically get with a round pizza baked on a flat, round pan. They also do the whole throw-the-cup-pepperoni-hither-and-thither thing, which is apparently the mark of a bespoke, homemade pizza. Honestly, I’m here for it. It gives everything a rustic vibe that, again, makes every pie feel like a piece of art.
So, where does this leave us? Well, it’s not a cheap endeavor. Though it seems COVID hit pizza especially hard. What used to be $12 is now $20. What used to be $16 is now $30. However, I don’t imagine that Teglia is going to be many peoples’ go-to shop. The pizza is too specific and doesn’t quite scratch that carbs and cheese itch. It does, however, kick ass in terms of a satisfying and delicious in-the-moment experience. The various textures that are somehow both chewy and crunchy, really decently balanced sauce and spicy pepperonis make for a very worthwhile and happiness-inducing meal. I’m sure this review will vanish from your head the moment you finish reading/skimming it (because that’s how Teglia rolls), but bookmark it, carve it into your arm, tattoo it on the inside of your eyelids: Teglia exists, and it is good.
438 Bloomfield Ave. – Montclair
973/317-0909
tegliapizzabar.com
