Simplon
is all
about
one thing.

Our mission sounds simple and isn't: to bring New York pizza culture somewhere new. The real version — not the one most people grew up with, the chains and the plastic cheese and the shortcut dough. We're talking about what happened when Italian immigrants landed in New York with none of the tools they knew. No wood-fired ovens. No Tipo 00. No Campanian fior di latte. They had coal ovens that ran cooler. They had what the market offered. And they adapted. Over generations they created something entirely their own — longer fermentation, softer cheese, a slice that folds. What began as necessity became the richest pizza culture in the world.

It began in a flat. Simplonstraße, Berlin. Two people, one kitchen, and an idea that got louder every time we ate bad pizza. The dough was always 48 hours. The tomatoes were always San Marzano. The standard was never negotiable.

And it never stops. The pizza you'll eat here tonight is not the same as the one you would have eaten a year ago. We are always looking for a better dough — a small improvement most people won't notice but we will. There is no perfect pizza. That's exactly why we keep making it.