The Best Pizza in Prague

How do you find the best pizza in Prague? There are thousands of pubs in Prague serving nice Czech beer. And there are an equal number of pizza joints serving cardboard wafers with ketchup, 10 strands of cheese, and corn for fuck's sake. How do I cope with such a gaping chasm in my taste for good beer and delicious pizza in the same place? I investigate. I eat. I eat again, then I blog about it.

I talk about food a lot in my bloggy woggy. Because a Wide Body Jetsetter didn't get so wide drinking mineral water and eating salad. I have consumed several metric fucktons of pizza, beer, Mexican food, cerveza, Czech fried cheese, pivo, and much more. Hell, my Berlin blog was called Dunkin' Berliner out of my sheer love for Berliner Jelly donuts. And maybe Kennedy.

If you're living la vida loca (or šílený život) in Prague, you may have noticed the whole beer and pizza equation is completely skewed, screwed, and tattooed. I'm here to rectify that. I'll be your personal pizza pal to help you find the good stuff and avoid the Communist slop.

What Does 'the Best' Mean?

I will get down to brass tacks. What is best for someone in Naples will not be the same for someone in Chicago, New York, or Sacramento. I should define what I consider the best pizza in order to set some frame of reference. Although, there is an absolute truth we can start with. If you're putting corn and tuna on your pizza, you are out of your gawd damn mind.

The Crust

Like the foundation for any edifice built on solid earth, the pizza crust is fundamental. I personally like New York style pizza crust AND Chicago deep dish crust—for different reasons.

There's a pizza joint called Pieces in Midtown Sacramento. It's like New York pizza on steroids. They ball the sourdough, age it overnight, flatten it, throw it up in the air, then top the BeJAYzus out of it. Lots of sauce, cheese, meat, and veggies. The crust comes out crispy on the bottom and chewy in the middle, like a fine pastry. They even fold the crust edges over the cheese and sauce for extra zing.

Just down the road (I don't like to walk very far) is Zelda's Chicago Style Pizza in the Pan. We're talking deep dish pie pans served with thick slabs of gooey goodness a gangster would drool over (and this OG pizza dude has for years). The secret of Chicago style is a pie-type crust with layers of mozzarella slices thrown on before the sauce and other toppings. Weird, right? But it keeps the crispy, crunchy integrity of the crust from getting soggy from sauce.

I'm aware that Europeans like wafer-thin pizza crusts. Screw them. They don't know shit from shinola. And Czech pizza crust is exactly as bad as all their baked goods: bland, thin, dry, and crunchy. Let's proceed, true pizza fans.

The Sauce

The second ingredient added to the house of pizza is the sauce. Unless you're in Chicago, where the cheese goes before the sauce. I believe the best pizza sauce strikes a perfect balance between zest and flavor. It's full of herbs, slow simmered, with a smidgen of sugar added to kill the acidity of the tomatoes. If the flavor of the sauce is so strong and tangy that it cuts through all the cheese and toppings, something is seriously wrong. Also, if you can't taste the sauce at all, it's probably just Czech ketchup watered down. Fuj.

The Cheese

I shouldn't even have to say this, but mozzarella is the prime pizza cheese. The pizza must be made with either 100% mozzarella or 80% mozzarella and 20% other cheeses. Czechs will put fucking EIDAM cheese on their pizza. Or worse, some rubber commie nonsense that tastes even MORE like plastic. Again, fuj.

The Toppings

Personal taste in toppings on pizza is an age-old argument. People scream at the thought of pineapple on pizza, while others cringe at the idea of fish and corn fucking up the pie. I'm not going to argue with personal taste, even though I've already stated clearly that people who eat tuna and corn on their pizza are out of their gawd damn minds.

Toppings should be generous but not overwhelming. Think of a fine food medley dancing on your tongue. The combination of ingredients should make sense. Mushrooms and Italian sausage pair well. Bacon and onions pair well. A good Chicago deep dish combo will have crust, cheese, sauce, sausage, mushrooms, pepperoni, bell peppers, onions, and garlic. That right there is the pizza of the godz. Wash it down with a pitcher of beer and you'll be welcomed into Valhalla just like that, pizza warrior.

Original Ain't Best

Whenever someone advertises their food using the words 'authentic' or 'original', run like hell. There is a reason humankind keeps perfecting things. Otherwise we would still be rolling on stone tires like Fred Fucking Flintstone. Or tackling animals and chewing on their raw flesh. Fire stepped into the process. Cooking kills the bugs that kill us. And seared flesh tastes so fucking good. See? Progress is perfection in motion.

I've tried the 'original' Neapolitan pizza from the birthplace of pizza in Italy. I tried it in Berlin and in Prague, and my tongue could find no purchase. The one in Berlin was called Pizza Nostra, and it had a dry, doughy crust with almost no toppings. There is another one in Prague called Pizze di Frankie. The guy started out making pizza in his apartment. He should have stayed there. All of his pizzas are made with something that looks like an electric pancake maker. Fast cooking at high temperature does not make good pizza. It makes flavorless slop in the middle with crust burnt to black bubbles on the edges. The pizza I had there had sausage pink in the middle with burnt crust. How is that culinary quackery even possible? Oh yeah: don't put pizza in a Barbie oven, homes.

Napoli may have invented pizza, but that shit is as bland as a cardboard box covered in tomato sauce. Some prehistoric brute invented the wheel. That doesn't mean we need to roll down the road on stone wheels for an 'authentic' experience. Authentic is for chumps and peasants with no taste buds. But we are pizza warriors. We brook no bullshit.

Let's Pillage Some Prague Pizza

Armed with my pizza manifesto and a serious appetite, I ventured out to find the best pizza in Prague. I consumed the requisite metric fucktonne (European measurement) of pizza in order to bring you the best of the best. Life is too short to eat shitty-ass pizza. The following Prague pizza joints stand out for different reasons. Some of them score higher points on the crust or the sauce, others are just plain inventive and fun.

The American Pizza Joints

I call them AINO. As in American In Name Only. And AINO WAY I eat that shit. These are pizza chains that came into this former commie hellhole with the promise of good ole fashioned American pizza. Then failed. How did they fail when they were the kings of the pizza chains back home? Simple. They dumbed it down for the locals. Every single Indian, American, Italian, and Chinese restaurant did the same damn thing: they removed all trace of flavor to cater to the lowest common denominator (the locals). If the locals don't like flavor, you'd best remove it all so you don't piss them off and go out of business.

But what is the point of opening an 'American' pizza chain in Prague if you're not going to do American style pizza? There are at least 50,000 pizza joints in Prague that all offer flavorless Frisbees of fuckall for the locals. Can't you stand out from the crowd? Can't you follow the basic international franchise rules of product consistency?

No. They can't.

Pizza Hut

The first international American pizza chain to hit Prague is officially the worst. Pizza Hut was never the best type of pizza you could get in the States, but you knew what you were getting: flaky, buttery pan pizza crust or chewy, gooey goodness on top of a classic sourdough base.

Prague Pizza Huts have ditched these lofty pretensions in order to provide the fastest race to the bottom I have ever seen. The crust is dry as a desert. Almost no sauce whatsoever. Pizza Hut pizzas in Prague don't even try to compensate for the loss of flavor by offering the standard Parmesan, oregano, or chili pepper sides. They do not exist. Even for sale. I've blogged that I hate the fact that Czechs charge for condiments, boxes, and bags. But I would give them cash money for a packet of parm. Or a handful of oregano.

Since they don't bother to season their pizzas with herbs or garlic like a normal pizzeria, they fall to the bottom of my list. They don't even offer garlic as a topping to be added. If there's a pizza oven in Hell, Pizza Hut will bake in the fucker.

Domino's Pizza

Originally the official pizza of stoners, Domino's Pizza brought pizza to your house at all hours of the night when you were too stoned to drive. In 30 minutes or less. Stoners need their damn pizza PRONTO.

It wasn't the best pizza, but it was the go-to standard when you couldn't get off your damn sofa. Now they have them in Prague. They should have stayed home. I do not know how you can take something mediocre and degrade it to rock bottom in 1 year, but Prague Domino's has managed to do it. The first time I had Domino's Pizza in Prague was in their first location in Nusle. I was very impressed that they offered double and triple cheese on their pizzas. So I ordered double cheese, and it was good. But the rest of the pizza was as flavorless as a box of packing peanuts from Amazon. Why? How? Oh yeah: they dumb it down for the locals, once again. No herbs, no flavor. Fucking locals. They're fucking with my chi.

*Breaking News: months after I wrote this, both Domino's locations shut down. Instant karma is a bitch y'all.

Czech Pizza Joints Don't Have Garlic

Garlic equals flava and Czechs don't like flava. We've established that. And as much as I like to beat them like red-headed stepchildren, I just have to accept that they will never be able to develop taste buds or produce a good pizza. Ironically, old school Czech beer halls offer a snack called topinky. This is fried bread served with raw garlic cloves that you grate over the surface of the bread as a schmear. It's so strong it burns your lips. Muh?

But Czech pizza joints don't like to keep garlic in the building even. I've asked. Every time I go in. They just shrug and say What do you want from a student working for minimum wage in a Commie shithole country? Which is exactly the kind of response I would give while working in minimum wage student jobs in the States. Only I substituted 'Commie' with 'Capitalist Pigdog'.

One Czech pizza joint showed promise for about five minutes: 360pizza. Their adds said 'simply different dough.' And it was. It was the real deal, aged sourdough pizza recipe used by all the great American pizzerias. But then they committed the Cardinal Sin: flavorless sauce, paltry toppings, and no flava flave. And they threw it into one of those Barbie ovens that take only 6 minutes (360 seconds) to bake your pizza. Nice gimmick for busy Czechies. FAIL. Good pizza takes time.

Pizza Jesus Comes to Town: Rud Be Thy Name

Finally, a ray of light cracks the dark cloud of pizza doom looming over Central Europe. A pizza prophet heard my pathetic cries, answered my pizza prayers, came down from above, and landed with a giant thud: Rud's Pizza is here!

I discovered Rud's by accident on a trip to Tabor, CZ in South Bohemia. I almost gave it a pass due to the logo: a hipster with an oozing triangular pizza slice for a beard. But I decided to put my hipster fears aside to give it a go (I read good reviews beforehand). I tried a slice first so I didn't have to commit. It was so damn good I had to order a whole pie.

The crust was 100% proper aged/risen/sourdough American style. But they added flavorful sauce, real mozzarella, and generous toppings. It was Fan. Fucking. Tastic. Fluffy, chewy crust. Rich, flavorful sauce. Generous toppings, and real mozzarella (with blue cheese added to boot). I ordered a large, ate half, and toted the rest to my hotel room, where I ravaged it at midnight with reckless abandon.

I found out that Rud's had exploded on the scene with their unique pizza in the past few years. They now have more than 35 branches, including 3 in Prague. They have branches in Pankrac and Hloubetin.

But they don't have garlic. Don't they need to ward off vampires (landlords)? Don't they know that garlic cleanses the blood after a night of heavy drinking? They offered garlic sauce in lieu of real garlic. It sufficed in the way that methadone might suffice for a heroin addict. Also, most of the slices they offer are with cream sauce instead of tomato sauce. What. Is the deal. With that?

Run Down to Rud's Now

I want them to stay in business. The Rud's Pizzeria at Narodni wasn't turning a brisk trade, in spite of the fact that actual Valkyrie warriors rode in chariots down from Valhalla bearing this pizza to cast heavenly pearls among swine, with the Apocalypse Now Wagner bit playing in the background. It probably doesn't help that they're on the 2^nd floor of the Maj building. Sadly, they went out of business. Replaced by overpriced 'nejpls' hipster bullshit.

And please, Mr. Rud. Don't go the way of the thousands of bland Czech pizzerias littering the culinary battlefield like dogshit on Czech sidewalks. Hold true to the creed of real pizza and keep on keeping on. Your rapid expansion heralds a new pizza empire sweeping through these dusty former-Commie wastelands. We need it. We love it. Don't expand too fast and too far like doomed empires of yesteryear. And for the love of ODIN, don't dumb it down for the locals. Then you will do fine.

And I will give you all of my pizza money from here to eternity, Valhalla, and beyond. If you would just add garlic to your menu.

BYOF

Sadly, if you want to have pizza with flavor in a bland land like Czechia, you need to Bring Your Own Flavor. This is why I carry a little jar of mixed herbs to the Czech pizzerias: oregano, basil, garlic powder, and chili flakes. The very things that make a pizza go from zero to hero in my land find no purchase in the bland food here. So after ordering my pizza at 360 (their angel/demoni ain't bad), I bust out my spice jar and shake it til I make it taste good.

Best Prague Pizza? DIY

I've officially given up. After seeing so many promising pizza joints rise and fall like empires, I just eat pizza at home. Even frozen pizza is better than the average Česky hovno they serve for 300 KC per pizza. Just get yourself a frozen pizza from Albert, Kaufland, or Billa, and bake it yourself. Sure, you have to doctor dafuq outta the bastard; add cheese, garlic, herbs, etc. My personal favorite: Dr. Oetker's Casa di Mama brand. This is the only rising crust dough frozen pizza you can get in CZ.

Or better yet: bake it from scratch. A long time ago in a country far, far way, I used to roll my dough by hand, mix my sauce, and add just enough toppings to make the pizza angels weep. Oh yes. There are pizza angels. May they bless you tonight. I'm off to start kneading...

Helter Swelter!

 

How to Stay Cool in the Evil Prague Heat

The latest European heat wave feels like Satan farted blazing habanero sauce into our weeping eyes. They call it the European Heat Dome, and it does not feature a song contest. It's just a giant bubble of high pressure driving the temps up near 100F. Yikes. Every year it gets hotter and hotter and nobody does anything about it. So if you're suffering from a near heat stroke in Prague in June 2026, get ready for some sweet solace for your sweaty ass. It's Big Sir's list of his favorite places in Prague that actually have working air conditioning—and actually turn it on.

Don't worry, my ninjaz. If you read my old Prague Heat Beater advice, you probably noticed I suggested you run behind one of those water tanks cooling off the roads. Yes, they treat roads better than people. And I've learned not to give out such ridiculous advice. But I'm now going to share with you my go-to places for cooling off in the helter swelter.

U Sládečků

Just got back from this Czech restaurant with a modern twist: working air conditioning. They've got Pilsner Urquell from the tank. This is a massive underground tank that ensures that all beer is cold, clean, crisp, and (mostly) free of that weird metallic taste Pilsner normally has (I prefer Guinness, but I'm weird that way). They also serve all the Czech classics, including my favorite: fried cheese. But it's not the garden variety commie Czech rubber eidam cheese. It's Gouda, baby.

The main AC unit is perched over the entrance to the WC. Sit directly across from it for maximum effect. If it's full, just wait at another table for a few minutes. Any Czechs seated there will run and hide in a sunny corner. They fear air conditioning as if it were a French daguerreotype camera trying to steal their peasant souls. The superstitious fux think that cool air blowing on their skin will cause disease. More than a few of them have told me this.

So my friend and I moved to the golden table area when a Czech man ran from the terrifying scourge of modern cooling tech. And we ate of the cheese and drank of the beer. And all was well in our sweat glands.

U Tří Prasátek

Three porcine figures stand guard over the door like ragged remnants of a mighty swine army the Roman covered in oil, set fire to, and stampeded directly into the enemy lines. Stupid spaghetti eaters. All that bacon, WASTED.

The Tří Prasátek, aka Three Little Pigs, welcome you to a bacchanalian feast of epic proportions. You will pig out on the finest swine morsels in Prague. Legendary ribs, medieval pork knee, beautiful meat platters, sauces, sides, and cold beer to send the swine swimming in your gut right proper.

The AC sweet spot is against the wall to the left of the bar as you enter. The AC unit is slightly hidden behind the bar, but it blows cascades of cool over you as you combat the meat sweats brewing within. When my culinary comrade and I were there, the front door was wide open, letting in the heat and letting out the cold. It may take them a decade or more to learn how AC works. In the meantime, head for that cold corner, grab a frosty beer, and eat a metric fuckton (actual EU measurement) of pork products.

Želva Beers & Burgers

I hesitated for years to mention this amazing place in the maze of cyberspace. What if it became mobbed and the prices doubled? Or worse, I couldn't get a seat? Fortunately, you can make reservations (recommended) for this tiny burger joint slinging the best mother flipping burgers in Prague.

Swine is king in Czechia. They have perfected the art of pork and taken it to new heights. Sadly, they don't know anything about the American style of smoky, streaky, crispy bacon. But I can forgive them because ribs and pork knee. They also don't know much about making burgers. And when they do, they charge higher than US prices for one. Rat bastards.

Želva is the only place in Prague that I will eat a burger. They grind the beef daily from fresh beef. Then they slow cook thick patties so they soak up the grill smoke on the outside and stay moist in the middle. They will actually cook it medium, or medium rare if you want it. Anything above medium is rubber. That's just the way beef is, I'm afraid. Unless you're doing a smokehouse job on a brisket. But that's a different kettle of, um, cow. The prices are also reasonable.

This joint also serves nice beers from a microbrewery in some village that I don't need to research. It's good, that's enough. I love the dark beer, but they also have other shades and tints. They also sling excellent home fries with the skins on the tips. Like they actually came from actual potatoes (they do).

A few years ago, Želva committed itself to a complete renovation. The small space removed the previously scattered tall tables and replaced them with wall-to-wall booths. Then they added a wooden ceiling with two air conditioning units in them. Previously, they had a rather anemic single unit over a single table. Obviously I chose that one.

Caveat: they don't always use the AC. And I don't always stay. But I find that they generally run the AC when it exceeds 90F (30ish C) outside. Sit anywhere when the AC is on. It chills reeeeaaaaallll gooooood. Unless some Czech chump leaves the dang front door open.

Loď Pivovar. A Boatload of Beer!

There's a lot of riverside joints you can choose to spend ridiculous amounts of money for a river view and a beer. But how many of them brew the beer right on the boat? Better yet: how many of them have air conditioning? One. That would be Loď Pivovar, or BrewBoat. Located right down the road from Namesti Republiky, it's just the ticket for quenching your thirst and cooling your jets. And by jets I mean yo sweaty ass.

There are three decks on the BrewBoat: the top deck, nice for an open air, riverside drinking experience. Not so much when it's 100F/38C outside. Which is has been for the last week. Step across the boat ramp into the air conditoned paradise on the river. Depending on the time of year, you can sample up to 7 kinds of beer, all brewed right there on the boat.

They've also got grub from the galley, from fish n chips to burgers and coleslaw. The only downside is the price. I used to pay 65 CZK for a brilliant pint of porter called Monarchie. That same pint costs 95 crowns. Which is a lot for this country. But hey, you get a river view, craft beer, AND air conditioning. And they bloody well know that.

Woodoo

This pub on Bořivojova street really hits the spot. It's got cold beer, cold AC, and cool funk on the speakers. They've got Foosball tables for the chilluns to spin and run tourneys, and the clientele runs on the younger side. But they don't seem to mind an old wide body geezer like me coming in and drinking their beer. Weird masks adorn the walls in this modern twist on the old Czech beer hall.

You can grab bar bites if you want, more along the lines of chips and nuts. If you need some serious food, don't worry. Bořivojova is a prime pub street in Žižkov. Wander it and get your fill. But in the meantime, soak up that Woodoo they do and chill.

Malls

Yes, malls. These architectural monstrosities are popular, gaudy temples to consumerism for a reason. One stop shopping, food courts, and yes: air conditioning. When you can't beat the heat, give up and head to one of Prague's many malls. The double-mall complex at Narodni trida is my go-to. Each of them has a food court in the shade. And they blast the cool air like true champions.

Some malls (like Flora, Smichov, etc) have multiplex cinemas inside. So you can kill an entire day in air conditioned comfort eating, drinking, and watching flix.

Why Don't Europeans Just Put AC Everywhere?

Good question. They never needed it all these years. Even in the Mediterranean countries, temps rarely got as hot as they do nowadays. And if they did: jump in water. But Central and Western Europe never saw such heat. Especially in June. This week broke all Czech records for heat. 39C temps for days in a row. Normally, the hottest temps in Prague would reach 35-37C for a couple of weeks in July. And then it would cool off at night.

Last night I ran my portable air conditioner (dubbed My Own Personal Jesus) from 10pm to 10am. It barely lowered the temp from 39C down to 29C. Something has to give. Give us that sweet thunderstorm that normally follows a heat bubble. Give us torrential rain and winds to blow that heat right out of the valley. Because if not, Europe needs to get ready for a lot more heat-related deaths. They're happening, they're real, and they're not going away as the summers grow hotter each year.

Stay cool, my ninjas.