If you’ve spent any time near the Emory University campus, you know the struggle of finding a spot that doesn't feel like a sterile cafeteria or a high-priced steakhouse meant for graduation dinners. Enter Slice and Pint Emory. It’s tucked into the Emory Village area, right where North Decatur Road meets Oxford Road, and honestly, it’s became a bit of a local institution for anyone who needs a beer and a carb-heavy safety net after a long day.
It’s not just a pizza joint.
Calling it a pizza joint feels a bit like calling a Swiss Army knife a "blade." Sure, the pizza is the main event, but the vibe is what actually keeps the seats filled. It’s that specific kind of college-town hub where you’ll see a tenured professor arguing over a manuscript at one table and a group of exhausted med students staring blankly into their IPAs at the next. It feels lived-in. It feels like the neighborhood's living room, provided your living room has a massive pizza oven and a rotating tap list that favors local Georgia brews.
The Reality of the Slice and Pint Emory Experience
Let’s be real for a second. Pizza is easy to find, but good pizza that survives the "takeout box test" is a rarity. Slice and Pint Emory hits a specific sweet spot with their crust. It’s a hybrid. It’s not quite the floppy, fold-it-in-half New York style, but it isn't a thick, doughy Chicago mess either. It has that characteristic "char" on the bottom—what some people call burnt, but real ones know as flavor—thanks to the high-heat ovens they run.
The menu is quirky. You’ve got your standard margheritas and pepperonis, but then they throw things at you like the "Emory Village" or specialized toppings that change based on what’s seasonal. They do this thing with their house-made sausage that’s actually spicy. Not "Midwest spicy," but actually got some kick to it.
What People Get Wrong About the Menu
Most newcomers think they should just stick to a large pie. Big mistake. The "Pint" part of the name matters just as much as the "Slice." Their bar program isn't an afterthought. They usually carry a heavy rotation of Three Taverns, Creature Comforts, and other Atlanta staples. If you aren't checking the chalkboard for the seasonal drafts, you're missing half the point of being there.
Also, the wings.
People sleep on the wings here because they’re distracted by the smell of baking dough. Don't be that person. They do a double-bake process sometimes that keeps them from being a soggy mess, which is the ultimate sin of pizza-place wings.
Why the Location Matters (and Why it Sucks to Park)
Location is everything. Being located at 1593 N Decatur Rd means they are basically the gatekeepers of Emory Village. If you are walking from the Woodruff Library or the hospital, it’s a straight shot.
But let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the parking.
Emory Village is a nightmare for cars. Always has been. If you’re trying to visit Slice and Pint Emory during a Friday night rush, you’re going to spend fifteen minutes circling those narrow lots or trying to find a spot behind the CVS. Pro tip? Just park further down and walk. The neighborhood is beautiful anyway, and you’ll need the steps to justify the amount of goat cheese and bacon you’re about to consume.
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The patio is the crown jewel.
When the Georgia humidity isn't trying to melt your skin off—basically those three glorious weeks in October and April—the patio is the best place to sit. You get to watch the chaos of the five-way intersection while sipping something cold. It’s peak "people watching." You see the undergraduates in their pajamas, the researchers in their lab coats, and the Decatur families trying to wrangle toddlers.
The Economics of a College Town Eatery
Running a restaurant in a high-rent district like Emory Village is a gamble. We’ve seen a dozen places come and go in that circle over the last decade. Why does Slice and Pint stick around?
It’s the price-to-volume ratio.
They understand that their primary demographic consists of two groups: people with a lot of money (professors/doctors) and people with almost no money (students). By offering slices—actual, massive slices—they cater to the budget crowd. By offering craft cocktails and artisan pies with ingredients like truffle oil or prosciutto, they hit the higher end. It’s a smart play. They aren't trying to be five-star dining. They’re trying to be the place you go when you can’t decide where else to go.
A Note on the Service
Expect "neighborhood service." This isn't the Ritz. The staff is often young, often busy, and usually navigating a crowded floor. If you go in expecting a quiet, romantic evening with hushed whispers, you’re in the wrong zip code. It’s loud. There’s music. There’s the clinking of glasses. It’s high energy.
Specific Recommendations for Your First Visit
If you’re staring at the menu and feeling overwhelmed, just keep it simple.
- The Pesto Chicken: If they have a variant of this on the board, get it. The basil cuts through the heavy cheese perfectly.
- The Flight: Don't just settle for a Bud Light. Ask what’s local. Georgia’s beer scene is exploding, and this place acts as a great gallery for it.
- The Salad (Wait, Really?): Yes. Surprisingly, their greens aren't just an afterthought of wilted iceberg. They actually put effort into the vinaigrettes.
Honestly, the best way to experience it is to go mid-afternoon on a weekday. The "hangover crowd" has cleared out, the dinner rush hasn't started, and you can actually hear yourself think. You can grab a booth, pull out a laptop, and pretend to work while you demolish a pepperoni slice the size of your head.
The Cultural Impact on North Decatur
It’s weird to think of a pizza place as a "cultural" landmark, but in a transient community like a university, consistency is king. Slice and Pint Emory provides a sense of permanence. Alumni come back five years later and the same smell of yeast and hops is hitting the sidewalk. It’s a touchstone.
In an era where everything is becoming a ghost kitchen or a sanitized corporate chain, having a spot with some grit and personality is vital. They don't over-polish things. The tables might be a little sticky, the lighting is a bit dim, and the decor is "eclectic," which is code for "whatever fit on the wall." And that’s exactly why it works.
Actionable Takeaways for Your Visit
- Timing is Key: Avoid the 7:00 PM Friday rush unless you enjoy standing awkwardly by the door for 40 minutes.
- Check the Specials: The best pies usually aren't on the printed menu; they’re on the chalkboard near the bar.
- Walk or Bike: If you live within a mile, leave the car. The parking situation in Emory Village is a legitimate stress test you don't need.
- Bring the Kids (Early): It’s very kid-friendly before 6:00 PM. After that, it leans more toward the "loud 20-somethings" demographic.
- Takeout Strategy: If you're ordering to-go, check your box before you leave the parking lot. They're fast, but mistakes happen when it's busy.
If you want to experience the real pulse of the Emory area, this is it. It’s messy, it’s loud, and the pizza is consistently reliable. It’s the kind of place that reminds you why we still go out to eat instead of just ordering from an app. You go for the energy. The pint of local ale is just a very welcome bonus.
Don't overthink it. Just go. Grab a slice, find a spot on the patio, and watch the world move through one of the busiest intersections in Atlanta. You’ll get it once you’re there.