If someone ever asked what my final meal would be, I would answer without hesitation: Lou Malnati's…read moredeep dish pizza. I left Chicago more than 20 years ago and have grown to appreciate East Coast pizza for what it is, enjoying it because I love pizza generally rather than pretending it replaces what I grew up eating. For years, a truly satisfying deep dish pie remained strangely elusive in New York. When Emmett's opened on MacDougal Street in 2013, it felt like I had recovered something I had deeply missed.
Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, pizza was woven into family dinners, celebrations, and freezing winter Fridays, when the ideal plan was to watch the Bulls or Blackhawks. During my final years in New York, whenever I wanted to retreat from the concrete jungle, hide for the night, and eat my feelings, Emmett's became my answer. This is not praise born from deprivation, either. The pies are genuinely delicious and, if memory serves, fall somewhere between the Edwardo's and Giordano's styles, a comparison that longtime Chicago deep dish people will immediately understand.
Beyond the food, the original restaurant captures something surprisingly difficult to reproduce outside the Midwest. The space is cozy, tasteful, and welcoming without feeling staged, retaining a Midwestern warmth while remaining completely at home in SoHo. The corner of MacDougal and Prince Streets has long been one of my favorite downtown restaurant crossroads, dating back to the days when Souen and Mekong helped define the cluster, and Emmett's feels like a natural continuation of that history. Deep dish takes time, so anticipate the bake, settle into the room, and avoid arriving in a rush.
Watching Emmett's grow has been satisfying. I am excited to try the Grove Street location, especially because friends whose taste I trust love it, and opening across from the iconic Buvette seems like a wise move. The block is already one of the West Village's most charming, and the interior appears equally inviting: tasteful, intimate, and functional. Perhaps this period marks an inflection point, with Emmett's expanding first to the Upper East Side, then to Philadelphia, please, and someday to a handsome location in London.
Many Chicagoans I know, myself included, subconsciously treat a move to New York, Los Angeles, or Miami as a self-authored reinvention. Midwestern reserve can initially feel provincial, so we become flashier and more affected, learning the clothes, restaurants, and social choreography of coastal life with professional dedication. For a while, ambition, nightlife, and travel carry the magic of becoming the person we spent our teenage years and twenties imagining, until some of that promise begins to look like a mirage. Eventually, many of us settle back into the grounded, less rehearsed personas our Midwestern roots gave us in the first place.
Ultimately, Emmett's also taps into those same roots, vividly showcased throughout the John Hughes movie catalog. Both make me nostalgic for Chicago and proud to come from a place shaped by decency, unvarnished humanity, and a refreshing lack of pretense. Emmett's conveys that character through delicious pizza and hospitality that feels distinctly Midwestern without becoming a caricature of the region. I feel fortunate to have received equal exposure to both schools: the coasts gave me cultural range and global energy, while Chicago gave me humility and a reliable instinct for nonsense. Whether I ever move home is anyone's guess, but for now, an Emmett's pizza is an excellent reminder of the incredible place my journey started.