Jim Staffieri's father was a pizza man. So is his brother. And his uncle. Staffieri grew up in his father's pizza shop in Brooklyn. But he is a graphic artist. Or at least, that's what he went to college to do. Twenty-three years ago, having worked his way up to the position of art director for Met Life in Manhattan, Staffieri started looking for a new direction in life. His brother invited him to come check out a property for rent on State Street in Rochester that he thought would be perfect for a pizza shop. Nearly a quarter-century later, Pizza Stop is still there, churning out slices and whole pies for a steady stream of devotees who work around the shop's limited hours to secure what may be the only truly New York-style pizza in the city. This is, without a doubt, the best pizza in Rochester. And, yes, I understand that those are fighting words in a city where everyone has their own ideas of what makes the perfect pie.

Staffieri's pizzas are thoroughly and wonderfully traditional. He uses the same basic recipes for his dough and his sauce that his uncle learned in a New York City pizza shop 60 years ago when he emigrated from Sicily. While some things have changed - his tomatoes now come from California rather than Italy, for instance - the emphasis on fresh ingredients and simple combinations remains the same.

Staffieri's uncooked sauce uses three different kinds of tomatoes, fresh garlic, and a scattering of herbs. It is light, brightly flavored, and just a bit sweet. Because it is unreduced, it melts into the crust, letting the cheese bond to the surface of the dough rather than floating around on a pool of tomatoey magma as happens too often with inferior pies.

The crust at Pizza Stop is nearly without peer. The only better crusts I've eaten came out of ovens running close to the temperature of a kiln, and those are often twice the price that you'll pay for near-perfection here. The bottom of the crust is stippled with tiny collapsed bubbles, shading from tawny to a deep, deep brown (almost black) in spots. It has a satisfying crunch, and the interior is dense and pleasantly chewy. Thin yet substantial, flavorful but still taking a backseat to the sauce and toppings, this crust passes my most important test: you will still want to eat it after the sauce, toppings, and cheese are gone. 

Pizza Stop is a classic slice shop - long on flavor, short on atmosphere. Service is brisk and reasonably friendly for a shop that routinely moves through 200 or more people during a Friday afternoon lunch rush, in addition to carry-out and delivery. As you might expect, there are rules. Just inside the front door a sign taped to the plexiglass service window informs customers that they will not be served if they are talking on their cell phones. Questions are tolerated on your first or second visit, but by the time the staff recognizes your face, you are expected to know the drill and do your part to help move things along. That's OK with me: anything that shaves seconds off of my wait for a slice of Pizza Stop pizza is an undeniable good. While there are tables and chairs, take-out is a better option: the slices are too hot to eat when they come out of the oven, and whole pizzas are always better when they have a few minutes to sit and gel anyway.

Menu options are limited. Unlike many other pizza shops, Pizza Stop's menu sticks very close to its namesake. There are no wings, no subs, no pasta dishes or salads. The focus is strictly where it should be, on the pizza. The range of available toppings is not huge (Buffalo chicken is about as exotic as it gets) but that's fine: Staffieri's Italian sausage has just the right balance between sweet and hot, his pepperoni is rich without being unduly greasy, his mushrooms fresh rather than canned as I've seen at other pizza joints in the area, and his vegetables are well cared-for. The result is a pizza more worthy of poetry than a review. My wife seriously suggested that we publish a full page picture of one of Pizza Stop's pies along with a haiku and leave it at that. This is pizza that's good fresh, good for carryout, and even wonderful cold for breakfast the next morning.

Pizza Stop sells whole pies, but the vast majority of the lunchtime business goes out one or two slices at a time. In the tradition of New York slice shops, Staffieri's slices are huge cuts taken out of 16" pies and reheated to order. Cheese and pepperoni are always available, and a good choice for purists, but there are other offerings that are equally good when you get tired of the old stand-bys (although I have a difficult time imagining when that might happen, given how much I like his pepperoni pizza).

Slices of meatball parmesan pizza, a traditional red pie with a handful of savory meat and an extra shot of cheese, are a good alternative to pepperoni. White pizza made with good olive oil, cheese and a noticeable but not overwhelming burst of garlic presents a wonderful study in minimalism. If you have a yen for spice, the Buffalo chicken pie featuring generous chunks of white meat tossed in hot sauce over a white pie with bleu cheese is a nice change from the every day.

Any and all of Pizza Stop's toppings can be folded inside the crust creating calzones (with ricotta) or "pizza turnovers" (without). Both are sensational, crusty on the outside, gooey and rich within, but my 4-year-old dining companion and I have a slight preference for the turnovers - oozing with kid-friendly cheese - which will ruin Hot Pockets for you forever.

Pizza Stop

123 State St.

546-7252

Monday-Thursday 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m.; Friday 10:30 a.m.-7 p.m.