What Square Pizza Actually Is
It's a slice shop in Times Square that does a Sicilian-style square cut instead of the usual triangle fold. The crust is thick but not bread-heavy, and the sauce-to-cheese ratio sits somewhere between a Neapolitan thin crust and a Detroit pie. Most people walk past it without noticing because the Times Square crowd moves fast and nothing here screams for attention. I went there on a Tuesday around 7 PM during a trip last fall. The line was out the door and I assumed it was just touristic hype. It wasn't. The crew working the front looked like they'd been there since 5 AM, and the guy behind the counter kept wiping the same three square inches of counter with a methodical rhythm that made me think he'd done it a thousand times before. The slice itself costs around five dollars for a standard square. Not cheap for Times Square. Not expensive either if you factor in that you're getting a quarter of a whole pie, not a pre-sold triangle of dough. The cheese layer sits on top of the sauce rather than underneath, which means the top gets slightly caramelized while the bottom stays relatively soft. That's unusual for this city. Most places bake cheese down into the crust. These guys do the opposite.
Here's the thing nobody tells you about this place: the peak window is about twenty minutes after each batch comes out. Before that, the center is too soft. After that, the bottom starts hardening from residual heat. I waited too long the first time and got a slice that tasted fine but missed the point entirely. Second visit, I timed it right and understood what people were talking about.
How to Get the Most Out of a Visit
Go between 11 AM and 1 PM or after 9 PM. The lunch rush crowds out the people who actually know what they're doing, and the dinner crowd during peak hours gets pushed toward the cheaper tourist traps nearby. Late evening is when the regulars show up and the kitchen moves faster because they're running on habit rather than chaos. Order the tomato pie if you want to experience what this place does best. The margherita version works too, but the plain tomato lets you taste the dough fermentation, which is clearly doing something right. I asked one of the workers once how long the dough rests. He said roughly fourteen hours, maybe longer on slower days. That's not bragging, just stating a fact that explains why the crust has structure without being dense. Payment is card only now. They switched about two years ago, which caught me off guard since I was carrying cash from a restaurant that only took bills. There's an ATM nearby on 7th Avenue if you need it, but it charges six dollars per transaction. Not worth it. Bring a card.
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What They Do Wrong
The location is brutal during tourist season. June through September, the wait can stretch past forty minutes for a simple slice order. The space inside is maybe six feet wide and long enough for four people to stand comfortably while eating. That's it. If it's raining or snowing, good luck finding a place to stand near the entrance without blocking the door. The square format means you can't fold it. This seems minor until you're walking to a subway platform with a slice in one hand and a MetroCard in the other. The structural integrity holds up better than expected, but the corners are fragile. I watched three different people drop their corner piece within the first twenty minutes of my second visit. Nothing fancy about that failure mode, just physics. They don't do gluten-free. Not even an option. If you have celiac disease or a sensitivity, this isn't your spot, and I'm not trying to soften that. The same prep surfaces handle regular flour and their dough, so cross-contamination is guaranteed. I mentioned this to someone working there once and got a shrug and a nod. Fair enough. They know what they are and they haven't changed.
One edge case I hit personally: during a heavy storm in late October, the power flickered and the oven temperature dropped by about fifteen degrees for roughly eight minutes while the backup kicked in. The slices coming out during that window had a slightly denser crust than usual. Not terrible, just noticeable if you're paying attention. I ate two of them and couldn't tell the difference from memory afterward, but I logged the observation. Kitchens like this run on muscle memory and routine, and anything that disrupts the rhythm shows up in the product.
How It Fits Into the City
New York pizza culture runs on tradition and speed. Square Pizza breaks both conventions without breaking either principle. The tradition part is the dough process. The speed part is how quickly they turn out consistent product despite the chaotic environment. That combination is rare in Times Square, where most options prioritize convenience over technique. I've eaten at dozens of slice shops across five boroughs. Most of them compromise somewhere. The crust is right but the sauce is sweet. The sauce is balanced but the cheese is processed. Square Pizza sits in a narrow lane where neither compromise is obvious. That doesn't make it the best pizza in the city. It makes it a specific choice for a specific moment. If you want thin crust, go to Di Fara or Lucali. If you want a classic folding slice, go to Joe's or King. If you want something that sits closer to Sicilian without being trapped in Staten Island, this place exists for that purpose. It's not trying to replace anything. It's just offering an alternative that happens to work well.
The closest subway stops are Times Square-42nd Street, obviously, with the 1, 2, 3, 7, N, Q, R, W, S, and A, C, E lines all terminating within a block. Exit onto 7th Avenue and walk one block north toward 43rd. The shop sits on the west side of the street. You'll see the square display case before you see the sign. I go back when I'm in the area and need a proper meal that doesn't require sitting down. The employees remember me now, which is unusual for a place this busy. They don't ask if I want the usual. They just start cutting. That kind of recognition in a commercial kitchen after two visits isn't something that happens everywhere, and it says more about their operations than any review ever could. There's no website with a menu. No delivery app presence beyond what third-party aggregators include. You can find hours on Google but the accuracy drops during holidays and special events when the kitchen adjusts timing without updating online listings. Call ahead if you're planning a specific visit around a major event in the area. They'll tell you if the wait will be longer than usual.
The price point has stayed stable despite inflation hitting every other food category in Manhattan. That suggests they're absorbing costs somewhere rather than cutting quality. I don't know where. The margins on Times Square real estate alone would make that math difficult to justify, but the product hasn't changed in any measurable way since I started going there. Price stability in a volatile market is either a sign of smart management or desperation. I can't say which, and I haven't asked.
