Capital claim

The Nutmeg State's claim: Pizza Capital of the United States.”

BY MARC WOLLIN

Living as we do in New York close to the Connecticut border, we often venture across the state line to restaurants, shopping and entertainment. Mostly it’s on back roads, where there might be small signs noting we are leaving one jurisdiction and entering another. Often there are none, and the only way you know you’ve crossed is by the change in the road markings. If it’s winter and it’s been snowing there’s another tell: the plows stop right at the state line. One side is scraped bare, the other is slip and slide. It’s a toss-up as to whose plows got there first.

But the other day my travels took me via the highway, so I got the full treatment. Big “Welcome to Connecticut!” signs made it very clear I was traversing the boundary. And there was an addition to the signage that had eluded me till then. In the past there was subtext below the headline pointing to the state’s proud heritage. One proclaimed the locale “The Basketball Capital of the World.” With Springfield being the birthplace of the game as well as the site of the Hall of Fame, it had a reasonable claim to that title. Likewise on a different road I passed one proclaiming the state “The Submarine Capital of the World.” Again, not beyond the pale, as David Bushnell invented the craft there in 1775, Groton is the U.S. Navy’s primary base and General Dynamics Electric Boat of Groton makes most of those vessels. 

Neither is controversial. Likewise in a state that has both Hartford and Greenwich, one could condone signs proclaiming the state the center of the insurance industry or of over-the-top suburban mansions. But this newest proclamation contained fighting words, to put it mildly. Those older variations apparently still exist heading south on Interstate 91 from Massachusetts, and west on Interstate 95 from Rhode Island. But in what can only be taken as a challenge, on Interstate 84 heading east from New York into the Nutmeg State, the title claimed was “Home of the Pizza Capital of the United States.”

While not recent, it was new to me. Apparently back in 2024 on National Pizza Day, at an event in New Haven, Gov. Ned Lamont signed an official state declaration, declaring that city “The Pizza Capital of America.” With such well-known establishments as Frank Pepe’s and Sally’s, it was a nice gesture, and certainly had a veneer of truth. But rather than leave it as a local talking point, Congresswoman Rosa DeLauro took the claim national by reading a statement into the Congressional Record, thereby lodging the designation in the Library of Congress. And so up went the signs, especially galling because they were only erected on Interstate 95 north as well as the aforementioned 84 east, both entrances from New York.

To be fair, the New Haven “apizza” variation (pronounced ah-beetz) is delicious indeed, and the aforementioned establishments have a long history making it. But on what basis is such a grand claim made? First appearance wouldn’t work for Connecticut — Lombardi’s in Manhattan’s Little Italy was licensed in 1905, while Frank Pepe didn’t bake his first until 1925. Maybe pizza outlets? Again, the Constitution State comes up short; there are roughly 1,300 to 1,400 pizza joints in Connecticut, while New York has between 4,900 and 5,700, with 1,800-plus in the Big Apple alone. Perhaps the only place the numbers work is in density. With a population 5.5 times larger, New York’s pizzeria per 10,000 residents ratio is 2.54, while Connecticut can boast a 3.37-plus tally. 

Without an official metric there’s no real way to adjudicate the assertion. As such, it’s as much about perception and marketing as reality. And Connecticut has run with it, publishing a “pizza trail" map showing multiple well-known practitioners, such as Mondo in Middletown with its shrimp pizza with red onion, capers and fresh basil, and Little City Pizza in Avon and its namesake pie with grilled chicken, melted leeks, artichoke hearts, roasted garlic spread, fontina and Romano cheeses. 

So while the capital claim is not a capital crime, it may have some basis. Indeed, if you try Frank Pepe’s white clam pizza you might be swayed. But whether your taste runs to traditional or exotic, the evidence is there for the taking. The good news is that there are no losers in this fight, and you can be your own judge. To paraphrase the box, you can try the rest, then decide the best.

Marc Wollin of Bedford likes pizza, period. His column appears weekly via email and online on Substack and Blogspot as well as Facebook, LinkedIn and X.