A SLICE ON ICE

Slices are supposed to be convenient. In theory, the frozen ones by New York pizzeria Table 87 are exactly that. Available at your local Whole Foods and via Fresh Direct, this $4.99 slice of frozen “coal-oven pizza” takes just seven minutes to cook — quick enough for a drunken snack at home.

But, at least from a New Yorker’s perspective, the premise is laughable. The Gowanus Whole Foods where I purchased it is just five blocks from one of Table 87’s brick-and-mortar locations. On my walk home, I passed no fewer than three slice joints, the savory perfume of grease meeting bread wafting from all of them. I rushed by; my glacial slice was melting.

When I got home, I peeled the soggy triangle from its packaging. A piece of wilted basil stuck to the inside of the plastic. As it warmed in the oven, I watched the cheese bubble up and simmer down, as if to say, “Good enough” with a sigh.

The first few bites were promising. The basil was surprisingly fragrant. The crust was a tad spongy, but that’s sometimes true of a perfectly acceptable $2 slice.

But it got worse as I chewed on. The tomato sauce was flavorless. The mozzarella had a rubbery texture — not good-rubbery, as a cheap slice occasionally can be; just freezer-burned.

And while it physically resembled a specimen “handmade in Brooklyn,” something was missing. I mulled as I ate. It wasn’t cheese or sauce or even spices — it was soul. This pretender lacked the graband-go spirit of the slice.

Perhaps, if I lived in a faraway, sliceless land, I would have appreciated this facsimile of New York bliss. Here, in my Brooklyn apartment, though, I mourned this sad ghost of partial pie.