Tomato Pie— Utica to South Philly
- Adam Horvath

- Apr 24
- 3 min read

I didn’t give it much thought until I was older—I guess I just assumed pizza always… existed. I knew it wasn’t indigenous to the Americas, obviously… but I never really stopped to consider when it got here.
Like maybe Christopher Columbus left his Nonna Colombo’s family recipe tucked inside a conch shell somewhere in the Bahamas before he sailed the ocean blue.
But in reality, pizza’s a lot newer to the States than most people realize—it didn’t really take off until after World War II. I’m talking to you, Boomers.
Sure, there were pre-war sightings—little pockets that never left their respective Italian enclaves in cities like New Haven, Manhattan, South Philly—but that was about it.
And even in those neighborhoods, it wasn’t really pizza.
It was Tomato Pie.
Before There Was Pizza...

If you mapped pizza out on some kind of evolutionary chart, Tomato Pie is definitely somewhere near the beginning—right after explorers started bringing tomatoes back from the New World and Italian bakers realized what they had.
So not Paleolithic man… more like that cool Geico commercial, get-your-own-sitcom caveman.
Because there’s nothing primitive about freshly baked dough covered in a bright, slightly sweet tomato sauce, finished with a sprinkle of herbs and Pecorino Romano—something that started in the home kitchens of Naples long before it ever made its way behind a bakery counter.
The recipes being made a hundred years ago? Still being served today.
But let me say what you’re all thinking—Tomato Pie is pizza that forgot the mozzarella.
That's not it! Today's Buffalo Chicken and Spicy Roni pizza stands on the shoulders of Tomato Pie's— or whatever inspirational saying I'm trying to quote. You know what I mean!
Who Has Bragging Rights?

It’s nearly impossible to determine who first brought Tomato Pie to the American public’s attention—but there are a few names in the mix.
One of the earliest threads leads back to a guy named Eugenio Burlino, who settled in Utica, New York in the late 1800s. A pastry chef by trade—and like most people back then, always looking to make a little extra scarole—he’d walk through neighborhood feasts carrying trays of simple pies his wife made: baked dough, tomato sauce, a drizzle of olive oil, a hit of Romano… sometimes anchovy.
Nothing flashy. Simple and delicious.
By 1914, he opened a small shop selling whole tomato pies for a nickel—what would become Utica Pizza, better known today as O’Scugnizzo, the second oldest continuously running pizzeria in the country.

Meanwhile down in South Philly, the story doesn’t belong to one name—it lives behind bakery glass.
Places like Iannelli’s Bakery, open since 1910, built a reputation on their cheese-less tomato pie—thick, saucy, and covered in a century-old “tomato gravy.” Sauce, gravy… tomayto, tomahto. Either way, it stuck. Even if the pie itself didn’t show up until sometime around the Depression, it feels like it’s always been there.
A few blocks over, Sarcone’s Bakery has been doing their own version since 1918—sfincione in appearance, this is a thicker, square slice that's unapologetically sauce-forward.
And then there’s Cacia’s—the “new kid” by comparison, opening in 1953—turning out thinner, squared slices with no cheese at all. Just dough and a vibrant layer of sauce.
Different styles. Same idea. Quintessentially South Philly.
And although this predecessor of today’s pizza is over a hundred years old, everything that came after is still playing catch-up.
Note- This should not be confused with Trenton Tomato Pie which is a regional style of thin crust pizza or Frank Pepe's Apizza, a traditional round pizza, that is sometimes referred to a tomato pie.
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