Lil' Ricci's Ny Pizza & Pasta - Golden

I was in Golden last summer, fresh off a hike and starving. I walked into Lil' Ricci's NY Pizza & Pasta expecting a tourist-town slice. The guy behind the counter yelled “Next!” like I was in a Brooklyn deli. I knew I was in the right place.

Golden has no shortage of fancy spots. But sometimes you just want a giant, foldable slice that doesn't cost your entire paycheck. That's where Lil' Ricci's comes in. It's unapologetically New York, and that's the whole point.

The Slice That Stopped Me Mid-Bite

You can judge a NY slice by the fold. If it flops, it's not real. At Lil' Ricci's, the crust has that perfect crackle and chew. The cheese stretches, the sauce is bright, not sweet. It's the kind of slice you eat standing up, then immediately order another.

I ordered a plain cheese. Then a pepperoni. Then I had to sit down. The counter guy just nodded, like he'd seen it a thousand times. No judgment, just pizza.

And yeah, the name says pizza and pasta. But don't sleep on the pasta. The baked ziti comes out bubbling, with a crust of melted mozzarella. It's not fancy. It's comfort in a foil pan.

More Than Just a Slice Joint

You can get a meatball sub that requires a nap afterward. The garlic knots are dangerous—little doughy grenades of butter and garlic. You've been warned.

If you're one of those people who orders a salad at a pizza place, fine. They have them. But why? You're here for the carbs. Live a little.

The chicken parm is huge. The lasagna is solid. The calzone is the size of a forearm. You'll eat half and take the rest home. Breakfast of champions.

The Vibe: No Fuss, All Flavor

The dining room is simple. Red and white checkered tablecloths, maybe. A TV playing a game. Not the place for a first date unless your date loves garlic. Actually, especially then.

LIL’ RICCI’S GOLDEN – Lil' Ricci's NY Pizza and Pasta

You order at the counter, grab a seat, and wait. The staff might yell your name. They might yell at each other. It's all part of the charm. This isn't a chain. It's a neighborhood spot.

And in Golden, that matters. The town has its share of brewpubs and upscale eats. But sometimes you just want a slice and a Coke. Lil' Ricci's delivers that without pretending to be something else.

Why It Works in Golden

Golden is an outdoorsy town. People hike, bike, climb, then get hungry. After a day on North Table Mountain, you don't want a tiny plate of foam. You want a giant slice that folds.

Lil' Ricci's understands that. It's casual. It's fast. It's affordable. And it's consistent. You can bring your kids, your dog (maybe outside), your climbing partner who hasn't showered. No one cares.

Is it the best pizza in Colorado? That's a fight waiting to happen. But it's definitely the best NY-style slice in Golden. And sometimes that's all you need.

The Little Things That Matter

Let's talk about the crust again. It's thin but not cracker-thin. It has a chew that makes you work for it. The underside has those charred spots. That's flavor.

The sauce isn't too sweet. The cheese is whole-milk mozzarella, not that rubbery stuff. You can taste the difference. Trust me.

LIL’ RICCI’S GOLDEN – Lil' Ricci's NY Pizza and Pasta

If you're a ranch-with-pizza person, they won't stop you. But they might look at you funny. You do you, though. I'm not here to gatekeep.

What to Order

Start with a slice of cheese. Then a slice of pepperoni. Then a garlic knot. Then a pasta if you're with a group. The lasagna is a solid choice. The chicken parm is huge.

If you're really hungry, get a calzone. It's the size of a forearm. You'll eat half and take the rest home. Breakfast of champions.

And save room for cannoli? Maybe. They're good. But you might be too full. Plan accordingly.

Final Slice of Thought

Lil' Ricci's isn't trying to win a James Beard award. It's trying to feed you well. And it does. In a world of overpriced, under-flavored pizza, that's refreshing.

So next time you're in Golden, skip the fancy place. Go to Lil' Ricci's. Order a slice. Fold it. Eat it. Then order another. You'll thank me later. Or you'll curse me for the food coma. Either way, worth it.

And if you see a guy at the counter arguing about pineapple, that might be me. Come say hi. But don't expect me to share my garlic knots.