COLUMBIA, SC – Charleston, for years, has held the title of South Carolina’s culinary crown jewel—its Black food scene a brilliant mosaic of Gullah-Geechee traditions, contemporary Southern fare, and the kind of deeply personal cooking that sticks with you long after the meal. But Charleston is just one city in a state rich with stories told through food, and our readers have not-so-gently nudged us toward expanding our gaze.
Greenville, Fayetteville, Columbia, they insisted. And because I believe that every city—every street corner, really—has the potential to hold something special, we took them up on it.
Columbia, South Carolina, a city rarely mentioned in the same breath as America’s food capitals, revealed itself as a place of warmth, easy conversation, and unshakable hospitality. It’s the kind of city where you stumble into places, and within minutes, you’re in a debate about the best fried fish in town or swapping childhood food memories with the person seated next to you at the bar.
Interior of SLICE
And that’s how we found ourselves at Slice of Columbia, a pizza joint masquerading as a bar, lounge, and neighborhood gathering spot—the kind of place where the bartenders know your drink before you sit down and where people seem to linger just a little longer than necessary.
We arrived just before happy hour, missing out on the famed egg rolls and wing specials that the regulars swear by. No matter. We settled on a large pepperoni and beef pizza, paired with Buffalo Honey Lemon Pepper wings—a recommendation that felt both improbable and necessary.
Pizza That Speaks the Language of New York with a Southern Accent
It’s always a risk ordering pizza in a city where barbecue and meat-and-three reign supreme. But Slice of Columbia’s pizza isn’t trying to be anything other than what it is: a deeply satisfying, no-frills, New York-inspired pie with just enough personal flair to make it their own.
The hand-tossed crust was golden brown, chewy but light, crisp at the bottom but yielding in just the right places.The kind of crust you finish—not out of obligation, but because it tastes like something. A hint of butter, a touch of herbs. The cornicione—the Italian term for the puffy, charred edges of a pizza—was particularly well-executed, the kind of crust that would make a Neapolitan purist nod in quiet approval.
The toppings, classic but amped up, worked well together. The pepperoni curled at the edges, crisping just enough to leave tiny pools of rendered fat. The ground beef was generously scattered, seasoning-forward, playing nicely against the mild stretch of mozzarella. If I had one quibble, I’d ask for a touch more sauce—just enough to let the tomato’s acidity balance the richness. But even without, it worked. This is the kind of pizza that, when it arrives at the table, silences conversation for a few minutes.
The Wings: Small but Purposeful
Now, about those Buffalo Honey Lemon Pepper wings.
I’ll admit—I was skeptical. Lemon pepper? Buffalo? Honey? It sounded like three different conversations happening at once, all vying for attention. But against all odds, it worked.
The wings, while small in stature, packed a punch where it mattered. The skin was crisp, the meat inside juicy, the flavors layered in a way that never felt chaotic. First came the honey—not cloying, but just sweet enough to get your attention. Then the lemon pepper, cutting through with its citrusy brightness. Finally, the heat from the buffalo sauce, rounding it out. A bite, a sip, another bite. A cycle worth repeating.
And let’s not forget the watermelon frozen cocktail we ordered on a whim—the kind of dangerously smooth drink that makes you forget it’s alcoholic until you stand up. It was summer in a glass.
A Place Worth Returning To
Columbia may not yet be thought of as a Black food mecca, but it’s a city of quiet discoveries, of unassuming places turning out food that demands to be taken seriously.
Slice of Columbia is one such place. It’s a bar, a pizza joint, a neighborhood anchor—all at once.
Would I come back? Absolutely. Would I order the egg rolls next time? Without question. And would I ask for just a little more sauce on my pizza? Maybe—but I’d eat it either way.
For now, Columbia remains an under-the-radar food city with gems waiting to be uncovered. And we’ll be here all week, peeling back the layers.
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