Co.(Restaurant review)

In the world of pizza, debates over crust can resemble sectarian disputes. There are the ascetics, who demand pies as thin and brittle as Communion wafers, versus the libertines, who prefer something they can sink their teeth into. If anyone can persuade the quarrellers to break bread, it's surely Jim Lahey, of Co. A rookie on the New York pizza scene, Lahey is an expert on crust. The Italian peasant loaves produced by his Sullivan Street Bakery are a mainstay of breadbaskets all over town; no less a fan than Jean-Georges Vongerichten has become a Lahey business partner. After years of anticipation, Co. (pronounced "Company") finally opened in January, and pizza lovers of all persuasions have queued up outside the door since Day One.

Inside, long communal tables are ideally suited for diplomacy. The decor, like the menu, is casual but refined, all white walls and blond wood panelling; the atmosphere doesn't scream "pizzeria," but, then, Lahey is refreshingly impious about all kinds of traditions. At Sullivan Street, for example, his bread is never kneaded, and Co.'s screw-top-only wine list is a geographic hodgepodge ranging from Austria to Oregon, with nary a grappa to be found. Dogmatists might think it gratuitous, even ...