Why is this slice of pizza $55?
This Fishtown pizzeria owner wanted to offer an over-the-top topping: An ounce of caviar. So how is it?
Wait — $55 for a slice of pizza?
What is it, topped with caviar?
Actually, yes. Starting Friday, Mason Lesser of Marina’s Pizza will sell slices of white pizza topped with an ounce of golden osetra caviar from CaviarXS, served with a mother-of-pearl caviar spoon that customers can keep, on an antique gold plate that they cannot keep. Lesser will either spoon it on the slice himself or let customers dress the slice tableside. Supplies will be limited each day.
Caviar once lived in a world of silver tins, iced vodka, and people saying “osetra” with a straight face. Pizza lived elsewhere: cardboard boxes, grease, paper plates, and way too many napkins.
And now they’re dating — in Fishtown, naturally.
The pairing sounds ridiculous until you think about it for half a second. Caviar wants fat, dairy, salt, and something soft underneath it. Marina’s white-pizza slice — fresh mozzarella, shredded mozzarella, and 48-month old Parmesan Reggiano, atop a crispy, 48-hour fermented dough using a 60-year-old starter from his Italian grandfather — brings all of that: melted cheese, warm crust, and creamy richness. The ice-cold osetra adds a gentle pop, a buttery finish, and a clean salinity that cuts through the cheese instead of fighting it. Add a squirt of fresh lemon for another burst of flavor.
This is basically a blini that went to South Philly and came back to an overpriced apartment.
Lesser said he wanted something “over the top” for the coming America‘s 250th/FIFA/All-Star crush.
Of course, there is ceremony. The roe glistens. The price suggests someone nearby — maybe a crust-fund baby — is wearing loafers without socks.
But also: It’s still pizza. You are still holding a slice. You are still one bad fold away from dropping $55 worth of fish eggs onto your shirt.
Caviar pizza has precedent. Forty years ago, Wolfgang Puck was topping pizzas at Spago with smoked salmon, crème fraîche, and sevruga. Pizza Hut even got into the act last year in New York with “Pizza Caviar” — though those were pepperoni-flavored pearls, not actual roe.
This version feels different: less fine dining, more “why not?” Less salon, more stunt. Less canapé, more chaos.
That’s the charm. Caviar on pizza is both elegant and idiotic, luxurious and lunchy, a flex with a crust.
