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MMC Slice Shoppe in Marrickville is clearly run by people with an incurable love of pizza. It’s obvious from the inspired toppings, supersized serves and the restaurant’s lineage. Operated by Sal Senan and siblings Huss and Amani Rachid – who mastered oven-blistered crusts when they opened Bexley North’s My Mother’s Cousin in 2021 – the store is powered by a devotion to New York-style pies.

Before the venue’s December launch, the team endured a pizza-eating marathon in the city’s boroughs, spanning Scarr’s Pizza (The New Yorker’s contender for “best slice”) and Lucali (Beyonce and Jay-Z ditched the Grammys to eat at the Brooklyn pizzeria and people have proposed via “marry me” messages on its dough).

MMC’s research mission extended interstate to Connecticut. They ate at Frank Pepe: its coal-fired, char-driven New Haven-style slices were pioneered a century ago by a migrant from Naples, who initially sold tomato pies from his custom head-dress. They queued three hours for a second pizzeria, ordered more from a third, and napped at a Yale University park in between.

This heavy-duty research paid off because MMC Slice Shoppe pulses with familiar undercurrents. “It smells like a New York pizza shop!” my American friend Nick tells me as he slides into a booth with our dining companions. He beams as he notices jars of chilli flakes and other details reminiscent of the US pizzerias he grew up with. Another friend is hit with memories of Pizza Hut as we glance around: the retro booths and lead lights were designed to trigger this feeling.

MMC Slice Shoppe trades on familiar references but stands out by offering not-so-standard-issue toppings – available on whole 18-inch (46-centimetre) pizzas or by the slice. Budget-conscious and decisive? You could (comfortably) order one pizza between two people. But as a super-curious table of four, we’re keen to sample a mix of square and round pizzas, and as many appetite-sparking toppings as possible. We go heavy on the slices, adding one whole pizza for balance. The waitress says this is “a lot” – but we’re optimistic we can handle it. Plus, slices feel more democratic: if someone wants pepperoni with hot honey, and another doesn’t, these individual serves mean both diners can be appeased.

That said, the waitress was totally right. The slices hit our table like a tidal force we underestimated. Here’s the NY Classic! The Grandma Square! OG Roni! The Burrata! The Spicey Rosa! The White Sesame Crust! The Hot Honey Pepperoni Square! We find ourselves speed-eating just to create table space. Someone takes away the giant pizza stand that’s on every table by default, generating room to fit two paper plates of pizza before more slices arrive.

Inspired by New York’s large, foldable pizza slices rather than Italy’s floppy Neapolitan style with its puffy, leopard-spotted crusts – the bases here have a firmer, more bread-like feel, particularly the square serves. We’re barely making headway when the Fungi hits our table: the only full-sized pizza we asked for. It lands with immensely comical effect. It’s the biggest pizza I’ve seen in my life. Later, when I take most of it home, the slices are so big that I have to origami them into accordion-like folds to fit into two large Tupperware containers. Next-day, microwave zaps do not diminish the flavour – it’s so incredibly delicious.

Swirls of poblano crema atop the roasted garlic-thyme mushrooms, and a melted mass of pecorino romano cheese, really level up the Fungi. Charred green peppers add a herby kick and chilli spark. Another brilliant vegetarian option is the white cheese pizza, with its garlic-oil coating, sprawl of caramelised onions and quadruple dairy impact: provolone, gorgonzola and mozzarella, capped with swirls of whipped ricotta.

The most valuable player, though, is the sesame crust, influenced by the owners’ Lebanese heritage (and previous cafe, where they sold sesame-studded bread called kaak). It adds a fortifying note to each bite. They now bake sesame crusts into the square pizzas, and the edges turn golden from the cast-iron pans sizzling with olive oil.

MMC’s bestseller is its hot honey pepperoni square, which has sweet-and-spicy zing. Like the OG Roni, it’s topped with halal-friendly beef pepperoni – an inclusive move that’s more widespread than you might think. In New York, many pizzerias (Lucali, Scarr’s, L’Industrie) offer beef pepperoni rather than a pork-based version. MMC’s pepperoni is small but thick-cut, so it cups on the pizza as it’s cooked.

None of my dining crew, who’ve previously blitzed through many slices topped with standard pork pepperoni, even suspected it was different. With many vego-friendly options and an alcohol-free drinks list to boot, this restaurant quietly caters to many demographics and tells a rich multicultural story with each slice.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.

Good Food reviews are booked anonymously and paid independently. A restaurant can’t pay for a review or inclusion in the Good Food Guide.