Yes, I could tell you exactly where Secret Pizza is. But that would ruin the fun. Half the charm of…read morethis place is earning your slice, so here's all you get: it's in the Cosmopolitan. Look for an unmarked hallway lined with old record albums. Picture Sinatra-era crooners, a Godfather soundtrack and some Jackie Gleason mood music all staring down at you while you wonder if you're about to get pizza or get recruited into something. Honestly, it isn't that hard to find. Just follow the people eating pizza in a hallway and the line spilling out the door.
This is New York-style pizza. I'm a West Coast guy, so I can't confirm it with a New Yorker's authority. What I can confirm is that the crust folds the way it's supposed to: thin in the middle, puffy and blistered at the edge, with a little chew and a crisp underside that holds up to the toppings. You walk up to the counter, look over the glass at a lineup of slices that should be illegal to display to tired people, and choose. Grab a couple of slices or commit to the whole pie.
Fair warning: the line moves at its own pace, and a whole pie gets made fresh. If you order by the slice, they take a slice from the display, add whatever toppings you want and put it back in the deck oven to reheat. Either way works. The one rule is to eat it immediately. This pizza is a sprinter, not a marathoner.
The pies:
* White pizza: This is the specialty, and it earns the reputation. It's a creamy blanket of melted cheese with golden, leopard-spotted bubbles, streaks of herby garlic oil and flecks of green. The crust is burnished and crackly at the edge. It's rich, garlicky and quietly addictive, the kind of slice you swear is your last right before you take another.
* Sausage and pepperoni (my personal favorite): Big, glossy pepperoni slices curl at the edges into little cups of seasoned grease, the good kind. Generous hunks of browned, fennel-y sausage sit on top. Every bite is salty, savory and meaty in a way that makes you look at your friends and nod slowly without speaking.
* Supreme: This pie is covered edge to edge with pepperoni, sausage, black olives, green peppers, onions and mushrooms. It's the everything bagel of pizza. It's heavy and loud in the best way, and somehow the crust still holds it all together.
Seating, sort of...
There's no official seating. You might borrow the waiting area for a neighboring restaurant, or stand at outdoor tables (no chairs) that belong to someone else. Again, it's all part of the experience. You're not dining here, you're on a mission.
The verdict:
Nine of us finished three whole pies at 2 a.m., standing up and laughing, with sauce on our fingers. That's what Vegas is about. If your night doesn't end in a secret hallway with a slice in your hand, did it even happen?