After a shorter than expected hiatus... the pizza reviews are back!
Well, although while technically the last review was published at the beginning of February... that was based upon a pizza visit I made in November 2023. Checking my own records: sampling Mark's in mid-December was the last time I actively went out to try something new, and I'm not exactly the type to have Domino's or Pizza Hut on the speed dial when I'm feeling lazy. So... we're talking over two months without a pizza? How on Earth have I liv--oh right, frugally.
This 'comeback-don't-call-it-a-comeback' review is indeed a special request funded by an old baseball chum, and a seriously big thank you for your support. Here's hoping your investment was sound and the review is a good one! Admittedly... I might be a little rusty.
Speaking of rusty, my experience with old timey Danforth Pizza House. The segues are still in mid-season form! You see, this wasn't my first ever time visiting DPH: way back during the First Pizza Quest of late 2018, I went with a sweet lady (whom I was extremely sweet on) to both here and the soon after departed Big House Pizza (sampling both at the Only Cafe, because Sunday cheap pints). The pizza we ordered at DPH (which I'm abbreviating this way even if no one calls them this) was 'The Bianca", a white pie drizzled with olive oil, fresh garlic, ricotta cheese and topped with arugula after baking... a pizza which is still on their menu! I suppose when you've been around for six decades, you tend to keep the favorites. Here's a picture of The Bianca from half of one of those decades ago:
Historically, there isn't much to say about The Dan House (okay okay, I won't call them that again) beyond how the current management/owners have worked quite hard to keep the place as authentic towards resembling its olden days... and aside from the sweet neon sign out front they're accomplished this atypical mission. The interior is exactly as I (and surely anyone else) remember it: the long wooden counter to the left, open pizza kitchen and oven immediately to your right as you walk in the door, a narrow waiting area (between the wooden counter and the paying one, next to the pizza making action) and a little area in the back that in theory could be large enough for a modest communal table, but was mostly cut off by boxes and various supplies.
It's a pure takeout joint, without one seat in the (dan) house. I could've sworn that little back section actually was for in-person dining when I went with that lady those many years ago... but this was pre-pandemic of course and two years of that didn't do my memory of minor details any favours. Regardless, this place is so old school they only accepted cash. Yowza! I like paper money more than most 'darn kids' but good thing I pre-ordered over the phone and so had time to hit an ATM on the way there.
Regardless, we are talking about a charming Danforth institution well over a half century old now, often a solo pizza island amidst the ocean of the reputable Greek cuisine flowing all around. Quite an admirable feat. However, as with arguably most of Toronto's legendary pizza joints... the legend skews the reality. Bitondo's remains perfectly decent and lovably greasy (yeah those panzos) but hardly in eyesight to Toronto's upper tier... while many similarly old neighborhood spots I've visited have fared significantly worse.
I'll save what I initially thought of Danforth Pizza House five years ago until the end, when I grade them here for a second time.For now, that's enough of my usual backstory hooplah (also still in mid-season form). Hit it, Johnny!
That is surely the exact same brick wall in the background from the first photo. I love it.
To be honest, when looking over the menu beforehand, the one that looked most appealing was The Bianca... you know, the exact same one I'd had before. That won't fly. Instead, this second pizza might be The Bianca's exact opposite. Or at least, as opposite as one pizza can be to another, rather than the actual opposite of pizza which is probably broccoli soup or something.
This above is called the Angry Bee: you've got your standard tomato sauce and mozzarella, cremini mushrooms, fresh garlic, a ricotta infused with roasted garlic (the white drizzle), a sweet fennel and a honey sausage (two types!), some bomba chilies and a bit of Mike's Hot Honey because why the hell not.
A lot of ingredients to unpack here, no doubt. On paper, while overloaded, the distinct elements of creamy (ricotta), sweet (honey), salty (sausages) and spice (chilies) don't sound completely insane. Too many toppings on a pizza however, even if they make logical flavourful sense... can really mess your pie up. I recall a few times working the pass at Libretto (yeah despite my novella-lengthed article I still won't run out of stories) where people would customize their pizzas by overloading extra stuff and it would come out of the wood-burning oven a gooey disaster.
Danforth Pizza House has the advantage of being a thicker pizza, something with a firmer base to hold all that together more effectively. Let's talk about that very foundation itself: all three major elements (sauce, cheese, dough/bread) are incredibly basic. Don't mistake that for "generic", which would be a genuine insult... by "basic" I mean none of them individually jump out at you with any flavour distinctiveness at all. Like the rudimentary versions of these key components, yet with a genuine homemade quality to it as well. It's odd and hard to explain.
The bread isn't remotely oily or buttery whatsoever, lending more of a floury taste... which does leave it unfortunately dry/chewy in places. The mozzarella cheese is merely effective at being a typical solid mozzarella cheese... as for the tomato sauce, it likewise follows the script by avoiding any kind of sweetness or acidity, or seeping juices (it's more earthy than anything). Not much in the way of herbs or seasoning mixed in either, it's a very simple thick tomato pizza sauce. Strangely memorable (and DPH doesn't hide the quantity) in how entirely ordinary it tastes.
The toppings (all five thousand of them) are both the greatest positive of this pizza and thus the most significant negative of DPH. Confused? So am I! What I mean is, there is a lot of flavour going on here atop this thing, and to their credit it does all balance out very impressively. Unlike a crummy place like District Pizza, which will whip up wild topping combinations (at horribly inflated prices) with results all tasting similarly blech on each bite... here, every topping adds something different enough to be distinctive, yet none overshadows the others. Aside from the general heat of it (bomba chilies, man) all of this taste gels together on any bite with more than one thing, doesn't matter which.
A bit deeper into this: the sausage is of the oily, crumbly kind but holds its form well and gives a brief kick of sweet salty flavour. The garlic ricotta: not overtly garlicky or fill-your-mouth creamy, its all very subtle but enough is there to notice it. Beyond the mushrooms (which conceptually really are the one thing out of place here, anyway) or the faint honey seeped in now existing mostly to keep your hands sticky (seriously, Mark's had it right: put that stuff on the side)... there is no forgotten topping here. This results in, despite the thicker foundation, a very droopy pizza even once cooled off... but as a flavour experience the depth and cohesiveness is worthy of a hat tip. Well done.
Which leads us to the problematic weakness: nothing about this pizza is truly exceptional. The flavours of the toppings in unison comes close, but even so there's such a generalized taste to this pizza no matter what kind of bite you get. It's a good generalized bite, indeed... but then we come back to that foundation: basic.
I have no real issues with the cheese or the sauce, both are fine, so I'll pick on the bread. When a bit on the crunchier side (more on that later)... this entire pizza takes a step up. Yet even then, there isn't anything here on a bite that screams "holy cow. Yikes this is awesome". Nothing says the opposite either, which is seriously important to mention as I continue my criticism.
When requesting this review my friend mentioned Danforth House type pizza as similar to Pizza Pizza, only (to paraphrase his explanation with my own artistic liberty) not done like complete shit. This is fairly accurate: there's a usual stiffness and a lack of taste beyond simple bread in the DPH crust I can't entirely let escape my cruel tongue. It needs more, whether it be softness or flavour. It needs something.
Beyond that and the considerable similarity in shape and composition, comparing Pizza Pizza and this fine independent pizzeria (which is older than Pizza Pizza! 1964 versus 1967) any further would be a pizza crime I'd deserve prison-time for. Even if Pizza Pizza vouched the authorities to give me a reduced sentence, offering me their pizza free to say anything approaching positive about them... throw away that key.
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Overall! The best way to analogize Danforth Pizza House might be this: envision a softball team of older players that have held their general quality and style of play despite their age, and remain fairly respectable within a division that has become significantly younger and more dynamic in recent years. The team has no real superstar, but no real black hole in the lineup either (ol' Doughy behind the plate does his best)... just a veteran squad that capably knows what they're doing and doesn't seem interested in reinventing their old gas oven anyhow.
When I first briefly reviewed Danforth Pizza House in 2018 in two short paragraphs (teach me your ways, 2018 me!)... I concluded overall it was a nice pizza with interesting flavours but somewhat chewy and boringly simple in spots. Now here, in 2024, in two dozen long-winded paragraphs... I've concluded overall it was a nice pizza with interesting flavours but somewhat chewy and boringly simple in spots. Time and money well spent! It's good to be back...
All right jokes aside, it truly was time well spent for many reasons. First and most obviously: this is a tiny place that has chugging along for sixty years, which both deserves respect and, considering how quickly these types of things can change (especially in 21st century Toronto), simply won't last forever. Any restaurant can disappear in a blink, often before you can properly say goodbye.
I mean maybe DPH can last forever, they've made it longer than almost anybody so who knows? But just in case they are indeed mortal... it was insightful to go back and really give an honest, deeper look into one of Toronto's last remaining old school pizza legends. And hey, you should do the same... especially if its your first time or like me its been several years. They aren't mind blowing (spoiler), but there really isn't anywhere else like this place.
Still going! Screw that conventional conclusion because second, we gotta talk the re-heat test. If you're a long time reader of my madness-I-mean-pizza-ambitions you knew I wasn't getting out of here without mentioning re-heat value.
See, I never tested DPH on this until now. That first time in 2018 going with a maybe-sweetheart, I don't recall what happened to the remains of that pizza (I wanna say it was forgotten in a night of passion, but more likely I ate it cold watching Star Trek by myself... pre-pandemic memory who knows I'll fill in the gaps as I like). Here is the newer slice again to rid you of any unwanted mental image:
With thicker slices, my first instinct is always the toaster oven at a modest heat so to bake evenly but not burn the thing (especially with an extra drizzle of creamy cheese on top). Here, this did not yield positive results: the tip became fairly soggy and the edges were stiffer than ever. Almost like a microwaved result (which please, even as a last resort eat it frozen instead at that point).
Still a couple of leftover slices in my quiver, I tried DPH on the frying pan, with absolute minimum heat and mostly covered so to lock in some but not all escaping moisture. Fully covered you get condensation on your slice and the flavour and top texture gets completely screwed.
I'll be damned... the pan with partial cover actually worked brilliantly for this thicker pizza. As I hinted earlier... when fresh it worked optimally when crunchy. Heating it low on a pan, long enough for the entire thing to heat not just the bottom... the time inevitably gave that very bottom a good crunch that really was the missing link this otherwise meh dough needed. Not that it was overall better on the re-heat, few pizzas ever are (the taste numbs), but enough of the flavours of those seventeen thousand toppings held through to make a pair of leftover slices a happy treat the next day. What a strange, strange pie these folks make.
Back in 2018/19 I gave Danforth Pizza House a "B-" and #47 out of my 75 top pizzas in Toronto. Looking back on that list, time machine opinion alone I'd have them at least five spots higher. Now in 2024, approaching a list of 150... I strongly doubt they sniff their old spot in the upper third. The game is climbing.
However, I'm upgrading the Danforth Pizza House score to a "B" and a robust one at that. Like I said, it's not going to wow you by any measure, and the overall boring competence is only interesting to pizza weirdos like me... but it's nearly flawless in the most unspectacular way possible and as a place of Toronto food history, a true fundamental institution for the food scene of the Danforth and East York... for Toronto pizza fans it's more than good enough to be a 'must visit' and 'try at least once'.
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