Matthew Etchemendy grew up going to Pizza Hut.
Not the Pizza Hut of today. The Pizza Hut of the late '80s and early '90s, when it was a restaurant with booths and pitchers of soda and the whole team showing up after the game. When ordering a pie meant sitting down together. When pizza was an experience, not a transaction.
"I love the idea of a pizza restaurant like I grew up with as an '80s baby," Etchemendy says. "Like when Pizza Hut was a restaurant, my parents would take me, it was such a good vibe, ordering pies and pitchers of soda to the table. It was so great back then."
Thirty years later, he looked around Brooklyn and couldn't find anything like it. New York slice shops. Fancier, expensive sit-down experiences. Nothing in the middle. Nothing that felt like where he came from.
So he built one himself.
Detroit in Brooklyn
Etchemendy is a chef by trade. He grew up in a pizza family. He'd been playing around with doughs and recipes in the kitchen at his former restaurant when he signed a lease on Driggs Avenue in Williamsburg in fall 2019.
Then COVID hit and everything stopped.
He reconvened with his team in July to finish the build-out. Ace's finally opened in February 2021, serving Detroit-style pizza to a city that mostly associated the style with somewhere else.
The choice was deliberate. In a town with thousands of pizzerias, most of them selling New York slices, Detroit style gave Ace's room to breathe.
"Matching that aesthetic and that energy and that vibe with Detroit-style pizza," Etchemendy says, "was the perfect marriage."
Not Ironic Nostalgia
Walk into the Williamsburg location and you're not walking into a set. You're walking into something that feels like it's been there forever.
Nintendo 64 consoles. A TV/VCR combo. Board games. Toys from the '80s and '90s. Red and yellow tones. Checkered tables. Klondike bars for dessert. The place doesn't wink at the past. It lives there.
"Our true north is we live in the past," says Jesse Leo, the director of operations. "Older is better."
The distinction matters. Ironic nostalgia falls apart the moment you look too closely. Ace's isn't doing a bit. The owners are '80s babies who genuinely miss what they grew up with and decided to rebuild it. The Nintendo isn't a prop. It's plugged in.
One of the sayings that floats around internally: "Fun for the whole fucking family." It's crass and warm at the same time. That's the vibe.
Everybody's Invited
Five years in, Ace's has four locations: Williamsburg, Bushwick, Long Island City, and Rockefeller Center. The expansion happened fast, but the energy hasn't diluted.
The demographic excites even Etchemendy. Parents remembering what they grew up with. Grandparents recognizing a version of the restaurants they used to take their own kids to. Three generations, all finding something familiar.
"I want adults to feel like they're kids again," Etchemendy says. "In a place they can have a drink and share some pizza and wings with friends."
The restaurant industry has gone digital. Ordering on apps. Minimal interaction. Efficiency over experience. Ace's pushes back. The team is trained to be in your face, in a good way. To make you feel warm and welcomed.
In a city that moves fast, Ace's asks you to sit down. Order a pitcher. Play some games. Stay a while.
The pizza is excellent. But that's almost beside the point.