1 Fifth Ave.
A pizza joint that doesn't deliver is one thing. A pizza joint that won't even allow takeout-that's downright un-American. Until recently, such was the sad fate of Otto Enoteca Pizzeria: No takeout. No delivery. No exceptions. Then, apparently, Mario Batali & Co. had a revelation: If God intended pizza never to leave the pizzeria, why did he create those little plastic thingamajigs that keep the cheese from sticking to the top of the pizza box? Now Otto is a delivery juggernaut that makes Domino's look sluggish by comparison. Which is not to say that the kitchen has relaxed its standards. Our go-to pizza, the Napoletana, always arrives hot and crisp and comes in a sturdy box tied up with string and stamped napoletana lest there be any confusion at the delivery depot. Although the order-taker stubbornly refuses to send spaghetti alla carbonara out into the night ("Can't do it; the egg would stick to the pasta like glue"), penne alla Norma is approved for shipping, and arrives miraculously al dente with a little cup of bufala ricotta thoughtfully sent in a separate container to swirl in at home. Delicious antipasti and sprightly salads are equally satisfying-and don't even get us started on the cold, creamy olive-oil gelato, available by the pint. Now, if only Batali would do something about Babbo: We've got a hunch beef-cheek ravioli would travel well.