Before visiting a restaurant for the sole purpose of reviewing it, I’m usually aware of it in some way. With Pizza Harbor, this was not the case, though the place has been in operation as many years as I’ve walked the earth. I posit that this is due to the location.

Though it’s in central downtown Seaside, it’s tucked away next to the Convention Center, off the main drag. I had some business on Broadway, couldn’t find parking, and as I was parking in the massive lot behind the Carousel Mall, the beckoning lights of Pizza Harbor shone before me. The inviting aroma had me practically floating into the building not unlike a cartoon character adrift a wafting scent.

Taking in the atmosphere, I was immediately flooded with childhood memories of birthday pizza parties at Fultano’s and the old Astoria Shakey’s. There are arcade games (including a sit-down Ms. Pacman table!), cheap toy machines (I recommend blowing a quarter on the vintage Mr. Chicken egg dispenser if only for the sound), long communal dining tables, and you can watch the pizzas being made.

I later noticed that the place is decorated in a decidedly nautical theme, with spears, nets and floats on the walls, antique scale model ships in the windows and a mural of boats. 1950s malt shop music strikes the perfect casual, unobtrusive note.

And the place is very casual. You order and pay at the counter, and when your name is called out, you pick up your food. Drinks are self-serve at the soda fountain, and you grab your own plastic eating utensils and paper plates. This is fine for the pizza, which is served right on the peel. However, the salad experience suffers from the Harbor’s use of disposables. House dinner salads ($2.95) are served on thin, checkered basket paper on a lightweight plastic paper plate holder. The level of frustration this causes depends on your choice of dressing, as my Italian dressing bled through the paper and got on the table, and a guest’s bleu cheese did not. The salad itself was less of an issue. Comprised of chopped romaine, croutons, Parmesan, pizza cheese and tomatoes, my only complaint is that the sliced tomatoes (not my favorite shape for salads) were not cored. The Harbor makes no effort to conceal the fact that the dressings are not housemade, as they are in the form of single-serving packets. Thankfully, they’re Newman’s Own, the profits of which are donated to charities.

The pizza is wicked good. Fresh dough and housemade sauce are a given at nonchain pizza parlours, but being fresh and housemade doesn’t inherently make them good. Pizza Harbor’s recipes are solid. The crust is crisp as well as chewy, and sports the cracker-bottom, cornmeal-dusted style that I like about Fultano’s, only here the cheese and toppings extend further out to the edge. The sauce is thick, simple and just tart enough. To get a good sense of the dough, I always start off with a simple pizza unencumbered by distractingly overpowering toppings such as kalamata olives or jalapenos. The Margherita ($21.50 for 13″) a classic pizza with an olive oil base, mozzarella, tomatoes and fresh basil was the appropriate choice for such an endeavor, as even pizza sauce detracts a bit from the true dough-tasting experience.

Pleased with the Margherita, I moved on to the various specialty combinations on the menu. Taco pizza ($21.50) doesn’t always work for me, but the Harbor does a pretty good version. I appreciated the use of romaine rather than the shredded iceberg some places use. Taco pizza is always a bit of a mess to eat, and here there was no exception.

The awkwardly-named Feta Pizza California Style ($23.50) is a busy number, with no less than eight toppings. Artichokes, sundried tomatoes, walnuts, green olives, mushrooms, onions, green peppers and feta somehow come together into a pleasing, unique contrast of flavors and textures. Like the taco, this pizza will start to fall apart when you pick it up.

Tahitian Treat ($19.50), topped with chicken, pineapple and linguica, is good, save the chicken. I’ve never found chicken to be an appropriate topping for pizza. It always seems dry, and that’s because it is. Since chicken must be fully cooked, pizza places will invariably fully cook it before putting it on the pizza. It then cooks another 10 minutes or so at 600 degrees. One of my first jobs was at an upscale pizza restaurant where we put raw balls of sausage on the pies. When the pizza was done, the sausage was perfectly cooked. That wouldn’t work with chicken, and cooking chicken separately while the pizza is in the oven just wouldn’t be feasible.

Standard pepperoni ($17.50) is loaded with it. That’s what separates locally-owned pizza places with the chains: the amount of toppings. The Gobbler ($19.50) is a seasonal pie topped with sliced turkey, pineapple and craisins. It’s good, but beware the sauce is mayonnaise.

Many places offer half and half pizzas, and my favorite thing about Pizza Harbor is that you can get pizzas divided into thirds, allowing you to try more combinations as well as please everyone at the table.

Pizza Harbor also offers a 10-inch gluten-free crust for an additional $3. After one bite, a guest commented: “This needs gluten.” I agree. My heart goes out to those who must endure a gluten-free diet, as such versions of bready edibles are quite disappointing.

Most pizza joints just offer sandwiches made out with pizza toppings, but Pizza Harbor has a whole array, including a Philly, a roast beef, a turkey, a meatball and a ham hoagie (all $8.50). All were delightful and served with a bag of kettle chips. I regret that it took me so long to discover Pizza Harbor, but better late than never.