To my way of thinking, there are only two kinds of pizza. The first is the simple type: Neapolitan but also any pizza you’d eat in Europe and, for the most part, that Italian immigrants brought to the East Coast.

The second kind is a pleasure delivery system, an orgy of flavor, a textural marvel of crispness and goo, all designed to make your head explode. This is the pizza of the Midwest, invented by cheese lovers. It’s not precisely a satisfying meal because you always want more, even when you’re feeling green from eating too much. Think of deep dish, sure, but also stuffed crust, butter crust, Detroit pan, St. Louis with that weird Provel, and Chicago thin, the new darling that everyone around the country now obsesses over.

Is it “thin,” or is it “tavern style,” the term currently in vogue? Does it matter? The real news is that we’re living in its golden age, making us the center of today’s pizza universe. While homage gets paid to the godfathers of thin, Vito & Nick’s and Pat’s, diners are obsessing over the new generation. More technique goes into today’s creations, and heads are exploding like never before.

The pizzerati is particularly enamored with Pizz’amici, a West Town restaurant that opened last November. It’s from Billy and Cecily Federighi, the young couple who have done more than anyone to refine this style and create excitement around it. They and housemate Brad Shorten began with a pop-up through their Instagram (@eatfreepizza). Soon fans could buy their crackery pies at Pizza Fried Chicken Ice Cream in Bridgeport. Next the trio decamped to suburban Westmont to open Kim’s Uncle Pizza. After a viral New York Times story got people around the country slavering, their pizza became the golden fleece of Chicago dining. Without the option of delivery or online ordering, patrons drove hours, waited patiently, and prayed just to try it.

Shorten remains in Westmont, but the Federighis have split off and settled into a good groove at Pizz’amici. A table is a hot ticket but not impossible, particularly if you’re willing to eat late. Behind the red neon sign lies a perfect little room — noisy, warm, and boxy, with precisely the number of seats (42) it can comfortably fit.

A limited number of pies are available for carryout, but for those who dine in, there’s booze and pretty swift appetizers. The Caesar salad with breadcrumbs is a gamble — it can be overdressed or a thing of lemony beauty — but worth the risk. The house focaccia is a marvel: two inches high, all stretchy puff and oily, crunchy crust — and even better alongside sweet-sour eggplant caponata.

The focaccia uses a biga — a pre-fermented starter — while the pizza is made with a sourdough starter that’s naturally fermented and cured for seven days. It’s a tweak from the Kim’s Uncle recipe, and fans argue the difference. I get the obsession because it has a texture you both know and have never had. It’s well done, with a little snap. The pies boom with flavor from the crust’s tang, the caramelized tomato sauce, and the browned sharp provolone-mozz mix. Get pep cups if you want (they’re good!), but don’t miss the sausage and giardiniera.

I should point out that the pleasure I derive from this pizza is matched only by the amount of fat that goes into it. When I brought a pie home, it congealed into a firm mass during the 10-minute ride but reclaimed much of its former glory after a reheat. Three squares in, my brain pleaded for more, while my stomach begged me to stop.

In comparison, the thin crust at Zarella Pizzeria & Taverna in River North, which opened in March, isn’t quite as tasty but is something I could eat on the regular. The tavern-style is thinner and drier than that of Pizz’amici, Novel, Dicey’s, and other party-cut newbies; a stubble of cornmeal on its undercarriage enhances the tug and crackle of the crust.

Chris Pandel’s innovation is using Italian 00 flour (the same required in Neapolitan crusts), which contributes to its unusually supple texture. Pandel (Swift & Sons) is one of two chefs at this Boka Restaurant Group joint. The other, Lee Wolen (Boka), contributes an “artisan” pizza, a version of the one he serves at Alla Vita. Take your pick, or order from the roster of Italian American dishes. Zarella aims to please.

This restaurant gets you at hello with thoughtful cocktails like the Suze Sbagliato and by-the-glass wines that hit every niche (love the chilled Nebbiolo). Appetizers are a dream: calamari as tender, greaseless, and crisp as it gets, a hummus-y roasted carrot dip with a platter of crackers and crudités. A stack of shredded, tender kale in bright Caesar dressing shows how it’s done.

But judging from a mealy chicken piccata, I’d stick to pizza for your main. As much as I enjoy the thin, I crush on the artisan, which is the idealized version of the crust I grew up eating in a part of America (the mid-Atlantic) not known for pizza. It has a crisp bottom and a puffed rim you’ll want to eat all of. This plus a salad, a glass of red, and good company is my ideal dinner.

One caveat: You, too, may feel the need to select the toppings yourself. I’ve yet to try a specialty pie that works as is. The soppressata and mortadella with hot honey and arugula was too spicy and salty, while the mushroom-truffle had an unannounced Sour Patch Kids hit of dreaded balsamic drizzle. But sautéed mushrooms with sausage? Now that’s the ticket.

The decor aims for a kind of ready-made Italian restaurant look, with checkered tiles, tufted leather booths, and walls crammed with framed pictures. It’s all a bit Maggiano’s. Ask for a table downstairs. That space is cool, like its own mini-restaurant, with a scattering of tables and a snug bar. In fact, it’s just the right place to celebrate this golden age of Chicago pizza.