Legend has it that when Frank Sinatra was in New York, he used to make his driver go to Wooster Street in New Haven for dinner from Sally’s Apizza. To demand the four-hour round trip drive from what is arguably America’s capital city of cuisine just for a few pizzas indicates how good and how distinctive this pizza place really is.

At Sally’s slow roasted vegetables, smooth mozzarella, or spicy sausage and a sweet, but tangy sauce are assembled on the thin, crisp, and wonderfully burnt crust in a combination that redefines the word “pizza” as soon as it hits the palate.

But Sally’s Apizza (it’s spelled the way Italian’s pronounce it), which will celebrate its sixty-seventh birthday in July, is a mere babe in comparison with its down-the-street rival, Pepe’s. Opening the restaurant in 1925, pizza historians recount, founder Frank Pepe began making pizza by putting tomatoes on top of bakeshop bread.

In 1938, Pepe’s nephew Sal Consiglio split off with his brother Tony and opened his own pizzeria, Sally’s, helping form Little Italy on Wooster Street and starting a rivalry that continues to this day.

It may seem like the competition should be friendly after all, it’s all in la famiglia, right? But a somewhat heated debate has arisen among pizza fanatics about which of these long-time establishments reigns supreme.

After tasting the fare at both Sally’s and Pepe’s, however, I found the choice surprisingly easy. Pepe’s was great pizza, but Sally’s was unlike anything I had ever tasted before. I might have had a more nuanced opinion, if I had tasted Pepe’s before Sally’s, but the memory of that burnt coal oven flavor was still strong in memory and Pepe’s tasted almost bland in comparison.

My guides on this exploration of planet pizza were careful to allow me to make my own judgments, but after I announced my favorite, they readily came down on the issue.

“I prefer Sally’s,” said Ari Zito’05, a native of Storrs, Connecticut, who has been making pizza pilgrimages to New Haven since he was about five years old. “Pepe’s is great, but Sally’s is more consistent. They have too many people working at Pepe’s, so sometimes you get crust that’s too chewy.”

Zito, whose father is Italian and grew up in East Haven, said he quickly learned the importance of distinguishing between the products of these world class establishments and everything else that goes by the name pizza.

“It’s probably one of the first things my dad ever taught me,” Zito said. “If I’m really hungry and there’s Domino’s right in front of me, I’ll eat it, but it’s not pizza.”

He added that it would be dangerous to take a date to pizza on Wooster Street because if she didn’t like it, she’d be done for.

Zito, who, at his hungriest, can eat two large pizzas by himself, has since turned his friend and housemate David Wyant ’05 toward the light. Together the two have made eating pizza into something between a science and a religion. We went to Sally’s on a Saturday night, a night my pizza guides say they would normally not recommend. I realized why when we got there at 8:50 p.m. only to have to wait another 40 minutes outside in the cold as the small restaurant emptied out and the long line ahead of us got progressively shorter.

People who come to Sally’s on a Saturday night know they’re in for a wait, but they also know it will be worth every minute.

We ordered two large pizzas for five of us. One was a traditional half mozzarella, half sausage with mozzarella. The other was a white pizza, meaning that it had no sauce, with half of Sally’s “garden” toppings—zucchini, onions, and tomatoes, and the other half covered in that evening’s special— thinly sliced potatoes and caramelized onions.

The pizzas are made in large ovals to maximize the space in the rectangular metal sheet pans. This makes the slices irregular in shape and size, allowing for slice selection based on each diner’s exact degree of hunger.

Aided by Sally’s distinctive sauce and the amazingly flavorful crisp crusts, the mozzarella and sausage pie brought even these common toppings to new heights. But the white pizza, specifically the garden half, stood alone as perhaps the best pizza I have ever tasted.

The tomatoes and onions are succulent, but the zucchini subtly steals the show. It is cooked to the perfect texture, allowing its natural flavors to create a distinctive and delightful combination.

We rolled out of Sally’s leaving a good week and a half recovery period before returning to Wooster Street to eat at Pepe’s. We picked a Wednesday night and arrived late—at about 8:30 p.m, when the primary dinner crowd was starting to head out.

Pepe’s seats more than double the number of diners that fit at Sally’s. Though both interiors are brimming with traditional character, Pepe’s is more sterile, with bright lights and high, stiff-backed booths. Sally’s slouches a bit with brownish-yellow cushy booths and low-hanging lamps.

With seven tasters this time, we ordered three large pizzas and one medium. Despite all our claims to hunger, this left a considerable amount to take home. Among the toppings selected were mozzarella, sausage, pepperoni, a vegetable medley and Pepe’s famous clam pizza.

The main difference between Pepe’s pizza and Sally’s is in the crust. Pepe’s crust is thicker and doughier. Though it retains some of the satisfying crunch of the thin crust pizza, it lacks the burnt edge that gives Sally’s pizza so much flavor.

The toppings at Pepe’s are excellent, but they have a more oily texture, which sometimes results in the entire contents sliding off of the crust when it is lifted from the pan. Pepe’s sauce is also not as tangy as Sally’s, making each admittedly delicious bite fall just below the anticipated level of satisfaction.

There are a few notable things that Pepe’s does do better. The meat on both the sausage and pepperoni pizzas was spicier and more flavorful than that at Sally’s, demonstrating how much better these pizza staples can taste when properly prepared.

Pepe’s clam pizza, with no cheese and no sauce, was a powerfully heady but winning, combination of salty clams and strong garlic chunks.

The drink menu at Pepe’s is also longer and more interesting than Sally’s. Both restaurants serve a selection of bottled beers, but Pepe’s offers glasses and pitchers on tap as well. It also serves birch and root beer sodas called Foxon Park, made in East Haven.

Though Sally’s takes the prize for the top pie, a visit to either of these New Haven dynasties will leave you satisfied and feeling glad you made the trip.

If you can find room in your stomach for dessert, or even if you can’t, stop in at Libby’s Italian Pastry Shop, another Wooster Street establishment, for gelato, a cannoli, or one of about a hundred other exquisite Italian delicacies. It’s open until 11 p.m. on Saturdays, making it a good place to go for an espresso before heading home to Middletown.

Zito said he wants more people to learn what real pizza is like, and he offered a hint for all New Haven pizza newcomers eager to disguise their inexperience.

“Everyone around here calls pizza ‘apizza,’” he said. “They’ll know what you mean if you say it the other way; they’ll just know you’re not from around here.”