The Ray’s parade

Click here to watch the short film, "In Search of Ray."

Though it’s a hotly debated topic, nobody can truly verify which Ray’s Pizza came first. The top vote getter is Ray’s Pizza at 27 Prince Street, between Elizabeth and Mott Streets, which opened in 1959. Many arrived throughout the 1970s and ’80s, adding slight variations on the name: Famous Ray’s, World Famous Ray’s, Original Ray’s, Famous Original Ray’s, Best Ray’s, even Ray Bari Pizza. A Google search turned up 43 such institutions within a five-mile radius.

But more important than who came first is, do any stand out? I spent several weeks visiting as many as I could handle (including a Ray’s beauty shop; no pizza there, sadly), sampling 22 in total. They ranged from dives with unspeakably dirty floors to chichi, mural-decorated dining establishments that sold fancy microbrews. The pizza itself was nearly across-the-board so-so. But in other ways, various Ray’s are far from the same. Among my findings:

Most strange-yet-delicious two-topping combo:
Broccoli and crispy bacon, a mix that’s partially heart-healthy but still manages to clog the arteries, is the oddest selection at the good-and-gooey Famous Original Ray’s at 811 Lexington Ave, between 62nd and 63rd Streets.

Where you’d most likely spot Diddy or his manservant:
The Famous Original Ray’s on the ground floor of the building that hosts the Bad Boy Entertainment empire (1710 Broadway between 54th and 55th Sts)

Finest collection of out-of-focus celebrity photos:
At the Famous Original Ray’s on Eighth Avenue between 51st and 52nd Streets, you can dine alongside pics of John Travolta, Bob Saget and a befuddled-looking Keanu Reeves.

Most definitely not affiliated with anyone named Ray:
The joint in Fort Greene called Not Ray’s Pizza (690 Fulton St at South Portland Ave)

Most likely to draw an artsy, intellectual crowd:
The subpar Famous Original Ray’s inside the East Village’s Red Square building (250 E Houston St between Aves A and B), which boasts a Lenin statue on its roof.

Biggest, tallest pile of porky toppings:
Pig out on a raised plateau of pepperoni and sausage circles at the Ray’s on Broadway at 86th Street.

Most fit for low-rent royalty:
A half-dozen taped-together chandeliers with missing lightbulbs lend a touch of class to the greasy-slice haven of the Famous Original Ray’s at 462 Columbus Avenue, between 82nd and 83rd Streets

Most vivid historical artwork:
At Bagel Café/Ray’s Pizza, on St. Marks Place at Third Avenue, grab a Sicilian square bigger than your skull and ogle the wraparound-room mural featuring local landmarks like the St. Marks Hotel.

Most likely to be playing U2 on the soundtrack:
Famous Ray Bono Pizza (1215 Lexington Ave between 82nd and 83rd Sts), which also serves stellar spinach-garlic offerings.

Craftiest topping dispenser:
Empty Gatorade bottles have been handily recycled into Parmesan, oregano and red-pepper shakers at an Upper East Side Famous Original Ray’s (1827 Second Ave between 94th and 95th Sts).

Most likely to be served with fries:
The bacon-cheeseburger pizza at World Famous Ray’s, on Sixth Avenue at 17th St, which comes topped with a perfect square of yellow American cheese.

Best-looking customers:
Shaggy-haired Nolita hipsters and Euro tourists stare out the window with fashionably bored yet sated expressions at the Ray’s Pizza on Prince Street. They don’t appear to care whether this Ray’s was indeed the first.

Watch the poignant short film “In Search of Ray” at timeoutnewyork.com/ray.