White paint peels on the wood-planked building where Whit’s End pizzeria resides, a block from the beach in the Rockaways. The shabby-cool space has a spunky, rough-around-the-edges attitude, a lot like sailor-tongued owner Whitney Aycock. The menu features surprisingly highbrow pizzas (like the bianca with fior di latte, zucchini, goat cheese, mint, and pistachio) and small plates, whose names are laced with expletives (take the "quick ass ceviche" or "fuckin' bluefish dip"). Everything on the menu that's cooked is done so in the gigantic, Italian-made wood-burning oven, situated towards the back of the restaurant and dressed in a beachy mural. Though you're here for the charred, thin-crust personal pizzas, don't miss the recurring specials, especially the oven-baked cheddar burger with hot pepper jam. Just don’t ask for substitutions, and don’t ask for a slice, or you’ll get thrown out. And the only fate worse than sand in your pizza is no pizza at all.