Today's slice is a plain cheese, what you might call a classic slice, from, well, Classic Slice, 1609 E. North Ave.

This is a gargantuan slice of pizza, far outsizing the competition at 14 inches by 10 inches. It is also the thinnest crust so far. The crust is not too chewy, and neither too brittle nor too soggy. It's got some great cornmeal on the bottom, too.

Of the three I've tried so far, I'd say that, size aside, this is the most "authentically New York" slice; the sauce has the right sweetness and seasoning and ratio of cheese to sauce to crust.

It was also the most expensive at $4.50, plus tax.

Two things I didn't love about the Classic Slice experience:

• You can't see the pizza or the pizza-making station, which is obscured by a high counter. I like looking at the pizza when I order, so I can choose what catches my eye and what appears freshest. I also like to see the pizza being made. There's no reason to hide, is there?
• Not that I was in a major hurry, but Classic Slice wasn't busy and yet it seemed to take an unusually long time to get a single slice heated up.

But the slice is worth the wait, in the end, so these are perhaps small quibbles.

After yesterday's double-dip at Ian's – a plain cheese and a slice with pepperoni – I stopped at Brick 3, 1107 N. Old World 3rd St., today to sample the wares.

There were a lot of slices on offer here, at a number of prices, depending on the toppings. But you can pick any of them and get a 20-ounce soda for $5 (plus tax), so I went that route.

However, the spinach and feta slice that I chose, which also has mozzarella, sells on its own for a little over $3.

I know, I know. Yesterday I said I was keeping it plain. But one talkbacker suggested I might be missing out keeping it so simple. So, that, plus the fact that the couple plain cheese slices were on a pan with some other slices, suggesting they'd been hanging around a bit, led me to to look beyond.

This spinach and cheese pie was very alluring, with lots of spinach, a good dose of mozzarella and some feta sprinkled here and there. And I don't regret the choice.

It's a good-sized slice – 10 inches by 8.25 inches – and the crust is thin and soft, by which I do NOT mean soggy. It's just pliable, which is fine by me, though it means you need to be attentive lest it bend and drop the toppings in your lap – just the sort of thing I'd do.

Nice spinachy flavor complimented by the hint of saltiness from the cheese make this a great slice.

In honor of Damien Jaques' article this morning about pizza by the slice – and in honor of my recent trip home to Brooklyn – I'm going to have a slice a day this week and write about it here.

Because it's right across the street and the idea just hit me, I'm starting with Ian's on North Avenue, where I opted to buy two slices for $5.50, because I'm a hungry man (plus I got two punches on my card).

I decided to stay pretty basic in the interest of being able to compare apples to apples – which means I'm not ordering any pizza with apples on it – and so I chose plain cheese and pepperoni.

Plus, I like basic pizza. A topping here or there is good, but a great slice of cheese pizza is never any greater for having a "wacky" topping added. Those are distractions and sales gimmicks. After all, if you can't do a great slice of plain cheese, can you really be a good pizzaiolo?

These slices are definitely New York-size. The slice with pepperoni is 10 inches by 9 inches and the plain cheese was 9x7. The crusts are thin and crispy, but not brittle, which is a plus when you're eating a slice folded in half without silverware (which is the only way, really).

I'd have liked a bit more cheese up top on these slices, but they are filling and tasty, with some nice flavorful dark crust spots underneath and some mildly sweet sauce in the middle.

It's not fair to compare anyone against legends like DiFara's on Avenue J or the now-departed Bella Donna on Kings Highway in Brooklyn – it's hard to quantify mystique and tradition – but I think Ian's on a good day is certainly competitive.

However, I do not condone the yeast and hot sauce among its condiment selections. Come on, I have to honor some traditions, right?

It's been a sad week for music of all varieties.

The passing of Stax bassist Duck Dunn leaves a mark on soul music. Dunn and his cohorts in Booker T and the MG's backed pretty much everyone that recorded at Stax, at least in its heyday: Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Rufus Thomas, Wilson Pickett, Carla Thomas and on and on.

Dunn and his cohorts created a simple music that was both down home grits and gravy and cosmopolitan at the same time, offering a counterpoint to the slicker Motown sound emerging simultaneously from Detroit.

Maybe it's because I was in Brooklyn when I heard the news about Donna Summer, but I was immediately transported back to the '70s, when Summer's influential collaboration with Giorgio Moroder, "I Feel Love," was ubiquitous on the Brooklyn side (and maybe in Milwaukee, too) and helped create synthesized dance music and even inspired the British synth pop explosion that followed.

But the real hit to someone in the Milwaukee music scene was the passing of Mark Shurilla, who we all called "Dog" back in the day. I was out of town when I heard, hence this delayed post.

First with The Blackholes – sh*t, they even got to play on the field at County Stadium thanks to their awesome tune "Warren Spahn"! – and later with his Buddy Holly show and his work mentoring and managing young local talent, Shurilla was a force on the local scene.

And that doesn't even take into account those years he spent at the helm of The Express – which later merged with The Shepherd – chronicling and supporting local music.

Remember his passion for punk rock polka? Dog was a Milwaukee boy through and through.

All three will be missed, but on the mean streets of the East Side, we'll miss Mark Shurilla the most.