5 days ago
Kinchley's Tavern, with bar pies and retro charm, an essential North Jersey restaurant
I see a horse on the roof and so I know I'm there: Kinchley's Tavern in Ramsey, the next stop on my journey to the 25 most essential restaurants in North Jersey, as determined by you, dear readers.
Many of you recommended Kinchley's, and I've always heard it in conversations about the best bar pie in the state. Yet where one stands in that debate is based on gustatory preferences and personal associations and histories with the establishments that serve them; that is, it's hard to name a winner when so many subjective factors are in play.
Nonetheless, with a table full of said pies, a house red ale and some meatballs, I was eager to enter the fray. A fellow diner eyed my spread on his way out and said, "That's an amazing order," and I asked where he'd put these pies in the North Jersey pizza hierarchy.
He thought for a moment and said, "Some people think they're overrated, but I've been coming here for 50 years and they've always worked for me."
Picking up a wafer-thin slice of Kinchley's fra diavolo bar pie and folding it in half with an audible snap, I wonder: Is this pizza going to be worth all the fuss? But then, I look around the wood-paneled dining room to the tables packed with families. I think of the guy eating lunch here 50 years after his first visit, and the value of familiarity and consistency. I consider the dining's quirky accents collected over nine decades and the totem of the rooftop Clydesdale, and think: Oh, there's much more to Kinchley's than pizza.
Kinchley's opened in 1937, making it one of the oldest pizzerias still running in the state. Although it's had three owners in its run, current owner George Margolis says the bar pie recipe hasn't changed since 'Mrs. Kinchley' created it some 80 years ago.
The bar pie has racked up accolades over the years; readers have named it their favorite pizza in Bergen County in our annual (201) Magazine Best of Bergen poll each of the last six years. Barstool's Dave Portnoy graded the bar pie a respectable 7.5 upon his 2018 visit, and quick Google search reveals just how popular Kinchley's is for the influencer/pizza bro crowd.
Beyond the menu of familiar Italian-American dishes and pub grub, Kinchley's charm is rooted in the marriage between nostalgia and peculiarity. That roof horse is a life-sized Clydesdale replica named Great Scott placed there in the '80s, and Kinchley's does indeed encourage diners to use it as a north star, but it's just the first of many throwback tchotchkes and accents at the tavern.
In the dining room, you eat in booths on tables perma-matted with spill-proof red and white checker tabletops. Walls are dark wood panels with the occasional mirror branded with a major American brewery producer — and if you didn't get the hint that you're supposed to drink here, the chandeliers are a hodgepodge of stained-glass fixtures bearing old-school beer logos.
You'll also find memorabilia like various cars of an old model train behind a glass display, artifacts from a time when Mountain Dew was just a quirky soda pop from the mountains and not jet fuel for preteen gamers, and placards with quaint, boozy sayings like 'The truth comes out when the spirits go in.'
The bar, partitioned off from the dining room, features a long, slim tabletop with TVs and a giant mirror on which the Kinchley's logo — Clydesdales pulling a horse — is displayed. Taplists, drink and food specials and words of wisdom are etched in colorful chalk onto framed boards throughout the space.
All of it — the story, the decor, the vibe — primes you for a good experience and echoes the culinary approach: comfort Italian food and pub grub.
So much has been said about the bar pies at Kinchley's that I wasn't expecting the bar itself to be notable. My mistake.
With so much of the decor heralding Big Beer brands, I was pleasantly surprised that the tap list (which rotates) included some craft bangers: Allagash White, Dogfishhead 60 Minute IPA, Franziskaner Weissbier and their own Red Checkered Ale, brewed by the folks at Toms River Brewing. It's a red ale, which you seldom see these days, and was an excellent representation of the style: malty but crisp with a touch of sweetness.
Though the food menu includes burgers, sandwiches and entrees like coconut shrimp and a roast beef platter, I stuck with some Italian American staples and, of course, the bar pies.
The meatballs were the best thing I ate at Kinchley's (and, to spoil it a bit, I liked the bar pies). Pillowy soft and oozing with moisture, they're some of the best I've had in recent memory. The sauce helped; chunks of meat in balance with bright tomatoes and a citrus zip to liven everything up.
The veal parm sandwich I'd classify as 'fine.' The veal was pounded thin, heavily breaded and topped with mozzarella and sauce; all the components are there, it just didn't move me. The bread, however, was stellar: a halved ciabatta loaf, singed with char spots on the outside. It kept the sub's innards intact and actually added the biggest pop of flavor to each bite.
With those out of the way, I headed into the culinary main event at Kinchley's — a bar pie flight of their three most popular pies: original, vodka and fra diavola.
People can disagree in good faith about whether they like the crust of Kinchley's bar pies. For some, it might be too thin; for others, there's no such thing as that. I fall into the latter camp, and so I was pleased at how each slice — as thick as maybe a dozen sheets of printer paper — snapped like a cracker. I liked how the crust bubbles made for even thinner, even roastier bites.
As for the varieties, the fra diavolo stood apart in large part because of the sauce. This wasn't just marinara with red pepper flakes; Kinchley's manages to extract both the spice and the red fruit flavor from the pepper, so you end up getting a sweet-spice experience, which blends with the bitter char on the crust and the fat and salt from the cheese for a balanced bite.
As a counterpoint, the vodka pie was just a little too sweet for my liking. If I were to order it again, I'd cut it with a topping like hot peppers, black olives or maybe anchovies.
To round out the meal, I ordered one of Kinchley's New York-style vanilla egg creams. Now, egg creams have never been a part of my life, so you'll have to excuse me that once the server plopped down a full liter glass of frothy white liquid on the table, I stealthily Googled what one was: neither egg nor cream (as I'd assumed), it's made of milk, seltzer water and vanilla syrup. So voluminous was it that I barely finished half of this sweet, creamy, fizzy concoction, but so pleased by the experience was I that I can certainly see a day when I crave it again.
I won't weigh in on whether it is indeed the best bar pie in the region; that's a choice for only you and your maker. But I'd certainly go out of my way to get another and would recommend it to those who haven't been.
And kudos to Kinchley's for keeping the prices low; everything I mentioned in here totaled to under $70.
I left Kinchley's enamored with its charm; its affinity for quirky historical flourishes and its commitment to comfort. It bucks change in the broad sense but it's not stubborn in the details; the quality of the food, the modern taplist and the quick service are testaments to that.
But I'm also left thinking there's something unique about North Jersey that fosters the continued presence of old-school restaurants like Kinchley's, Rutt's Hut, Holsten's, Patsy's and others; something in between the notes in every Springsteen song, something earnest, something like: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. In other words, something essential.
Go: Kinchley's Tavern. 586 Franklin Turnpike, Ramsey; 201-934-7777,
Matt Cortina is a food reporter for Record. If you have recommendations for other essential North Jersey restaurants for him to visit, go here or email him at mcortina@
This article originally appeared on Kinchley's Tavern in Ramsey one of most essential restaurants in NJ
