Los Angeles is a hard transition for former New Yorkers. We have to get used to such jarring novelties as constant sunshine and fresh fruit. Then, when we want to comfort ourselves with a taste of home, we have to put up with the most awful pizza in the country.

I spent my first year in L.A. trying every pie in a ten-mile radius, only to become more and more disillusioned. I finally suspended the search, reconciling myself to a life of burritos.

My hopes were raised, however, by the L.A. Weekly's recent "Best of L.A." issue, in which Joe Peep's got the nod for serving the best pizza in town. I set off for the Valley, anticipating what the Weekly described as a slice reminiscent of Ray's in New York.

Not quite. Joe Peep's offers two incarnations: the 5,969 Calorie Pizza (a thick-crusted, Pizza Hut-esque number) and the thin-crusted Blue Collar ("for true NY-style-pizza aficionados"). We went for the latter. While the atmosphere (or lack thereof) is on the mark, the pie didn't quite live up to Big Apple standards. True, it's better than most L.A. concoctions, ranking as a nice solid slice. But the crust is too thin, too stiff and has cornmeal slapped on the bottom. Worst of all, there's a conspicuous lack of grease. I left disappointed.

Hoping to lift me out of my funk, a friend suggested Damiano, another joint boasting "genuine New York pizza." This time I hit pay dirt. The slices are limp, slick, cheesy. You can fold them in half, in true New York style. The booths are vinyl, the room dark, the prices reasonable. You can order single slices, and the joint is open all night. Best of all, the waitresses aren't aspiring starlets--they're straight-talking, real-looking broads in the greatest sense of the word.

Damiano isn't pretty. The decor consists of beer ads and stadium posters. As for the menu, it's heavy with cream sauces, meat and cheese. There's a conspicuous lack of "light" dishes.

All of which is good news for New Yorkers pining away for Little Italy. So listen up: Damiano could be your savior. Order a large pie and a plate of garlic bread. Revel in the street noise, and pretend the wait staff is a little ruder. It'll almost feel like home. --Danielle Kwatinetz