If you want a perfectly pleasant conversation to turn contentious, just mention the word "pizza" and watch the dough fly. Or you can just shut your piehole and plop yourself down at Virgilio's, where the New York-style pizzas are generally known to silence even the most severe skeptics. The pizzas — sturdy, slightly raised, requisitely chewy and uniformly tinged golden — are staunchly traditional (seekers of Brussels sprouts or ornamental orange blossoms should fuhgeddaboutit), and the lightly herbed sauce, a judicious balance of acidity and sweetness, paves the way for classic toppings like sausage and pepperoni, onions and olives. With so many frou-frou pizzas littering menus these days, the pies at Virgilio's are a welcome journey down memory lane.