New Tony's Pizza

**What makes this different:** While El Gordo runs late-night chaos with surgical precision and The Waves keeps things weirdly calm, New Tony's survives on pure proximity and convenience. This isn't the spot you seek out—it's the spot you end up at because your hotel's across the street and you need something greasy before bed. No one's importing Tijuana technique or sourcing thoughtful seafood. They're keeping sixteen varieties of pizza under heat lamps and hoping the Brewski (pepperoni, sausage, ricotta) distracts you from the burnt crust.

The vibe is utilitarian downtown survival: cursing-heavy music, one guy (often Darrell, according to regulars) running the entire operation solo, and a two-slice-plus-beer deal that works mathematically even if the pizza doesn't always work culinarily. When it's good, it's fine—chicken pesto, buffalo chicken, stromboli that earns genuine praise. When it's bad, it's the kind of burnt disaster that crumbles like ash in your hand.

The play here is managing expectations. Come late, come hungry, come with the understanding that "quick-serve outlet" means exactly that. Order at the counter, take your slices outside if weather permits, and don't expect craft. The beer deal is legitimately solid. The variety is legitimately impressive for a late-night slice joint. The execution swings wildly depending on when Darrell's shift started.

This is Gaslamp's functional pizza—not destination dining, not Instagram bait, just carbs and cheese available when most kitchens have already closed. If that's what you need, New Tony's delivers (sometimes literally, sometimes burnt beyond recognition). If you want more, walk literally anywhere else in the neighborhood.