Sometimes you like-a the sausage and sometimes you like-a the pizza and sometimes you like-a to get them together like the #pizzalist pizza a la salsaiccia I got from Daniela’s. Sometimes.
Here we are again, back in-a Pizzatown!
Sometimes you get-a this pizza and it satisfies-a your hunger. But eat it quick because it doesn’t keep-a for very long-a. Not-a recommended for reheats, but who needs-a reheats when you have-a need for one-sitting big eats!
What’s with the spacing here, Daniela? C’mon…
Sometimes you just do-a silly voices, for-a no discernable reason, but-a hey, as my grandmama always said, different-a strokes for-a different-a folks. Haiku!
I’ve never actually met anyone named Mario, but if I did I would shake his hand*. Marios have already given us the best video games, AC Slater, and a love of orange crocs and socks, and today they give us #pizzalist pizza number twenty-three, the Pizza Bianca from Mario’s Trattoria.
Speaking of AC Slater, we see the revival of the Saved By The Bell-style pizza box…
Most white pies have very distinct cheese regions. The mozzarella dominates the landscape with islands of ricotta lumped here and/or there. This can be delicious, as it gives you the opportunity to savor each of the different cheeses independently with each bite.
Mario skimped on slicing, but not on flavor.
Mario’s pizza bianca is more egalitarian with its cheeses however, mixing the ricotta with the mozzarella somewhat evenly in a pas-de-deux of cheesy goodness. I appreciated this; I delighted in this, both mentally and physically. Each slice danced into my mouth culminating in a standing ovation from the full house that was my cheese-filled stomach post-pizza. My heart’s gone gooey for Mario’s melty cheeses. HAIKU TIME!
White, like driven snow
cheese, like polar bear
*Granted, I shake most people’s hands when I meet them, so this shouldn’t be TOO shocking, but you get the “point”.
If you’re a pizzalover- and I assume either you are and that’s why you’re here or you’re just stalking me*- and you appreciate a crackery crust with quality ingredients, check out #pizzalist pizza-maker Ziglioni’s Pizza Bar.
A classy box for a classy pizza.
They fancy. Oh yeah they real fancy. How fancy, you ask? So fancy my pizza wasn’t even in English. Nope, I ordered the Ai Carciofi e Tartufo Pizza which must translate to “mmmmm oh yeah nom nom nom nom nom want more” and contained mozzarella, artichoke, Pecorino Romano, truffle oil, sans sauce. Brilliant.
A slighty charred crust makes for some crunchy good eats!
Some folks disagree with a no-sauce pizza but some folks ain’t me. I love it, and Ziglioni’s did an excellent job of loading up the cheese and toppings while maintaining the integrity of its wafer-thin crust. If anything, they could have been a little less heavy handed with the truffle oil, but that’s such a #firstworldproblem that I hesitate to even mention it. Haiku time!
Cheesey, artichoke pizza
No sauce for me, thanks.
*Which is fine too. I find it quite flattering when dolls are made out of my hair.
For the twenty-first pizza of #pizzalist history, I ordered the prosciutto and pineapple pizza from L’Allegria Restaurant. The prosciutto was a tasty way to up the class-factor on what would otherwise be a typical common man’s Hawaiian pie (and that extra class was needed since the rest of the night involved a group of twenty-somethings playing Truth or Dare). Also, this pizza featured maximum cheesiness which is always a plus for me.
I want to live in Pizzaland where the pizza is always rising in the distance…
I won’t be long-winded since I’m a little behind on my #pizzalist, so let me put it this way: I am sad that I have too many other pizzas to eat such that I will not be having this one again any time soon. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have it, dear pizza-loving readers, and I highly encourage you to do so.
Very rarely are you ever going to hear me say that you are better off NOT having pizza than even having the most pathetic $.99 shame slice*, because very rarely is that true. Well, today is one of those sad days, pizza friends. Don’t bother with #pizzalist’s Original Pronto Pizza unless you hate your stomach and want to commit suicide by pepperoni grease.
“Best Pizza in Town”, if you’re really into vomiting and heart disease.
On the one hand I was excited about this pizza as it was chock full ‘o cheese, they didn’t waste any space on unnecessary crust, and the pepperonis were speecy-spicy**. Then I picked it up and the pools of grease that had formed on top began cascading about me like a waterfall of wasted opportunity. We can put a man on the moon, people. We can make a cheesey pizza that doesn’t have to be dabbed at with a napkin like a d-bag***.
They can’t all be winners. I’m sure even in heaven there’s a crappy part of town with bad traffic.
This pizza left me feeling ill, which for most people who don’t ignore their evolutionary instincts is a sign to not eat it any more, but I’m an American, so I gave it another shot reheated the next day. Same story. Turns out death pizza doesn’t suddenly become quality over night thanks to any magical properties of my refrigerator.
Sigh. Such is life. Let my story be a warning to you, fair pizza eaters, and steer clear of the Original Pronto Pizza. Now, who’s hungry for a haiku??
Drips, like tragic pizza tears
*About as rarely as Lindsay Lohan successfully completes a court sentence. #topicalhumor
**For those of you who don’t speak it, that’s Italian for “kinda spicy”.
***D-bag= dabbing-bag. One whose “bag” is to “dab”.
One of the beauties of #pizzalist, other than the obvious I-get-to-eat-pizza-all-the-time thing, is that it is centered upon my natural desire to be lazy. In other words, every pizza gets delivered, to me, in my home, where I probably look like a hobo because I’m sitting around in my knickers unwashed and watching back-to-back episodes of Rescue Me. It’s the American Dream. It’s that kind of luxury and freedom that my father came to this country to give me*, so darn it, it is a veritable PILLAR of the #pizzalist model.
Well, father, I let you down and actually went OUT for this #pizzalist pizza at Capizzi Pizzeria. Turns out, there are benefits to this novel concept of actually eating pizza in-house. They include (but are not limited to) being able to enjoy the house Montepulciano and these whimsical menus.
He’s half tongue-licking pervy, half I-wanna-give-him-a-hug. Thus, you win, perv.
While Capizzi runs on the pricier side of things, they had some delicious offerings, including the prosciutto and arugula pizza I shared with an old friend. Brass tacks: quality ingredients, heaping prosciutto, cracker-y crust, light on the sauce, could’ve used a liiiiiitle more cheese**, all-around winner in my book***.
You may notice they’ve employed the “Trodgor method” of slightly burninating the crust edges.
Moral of the story: if you’ve got a few extra bucks in your pocket and you’re looking for a fancy pizza, ignore the fact that it’s located in Hobotown underneath Port Authority and visit Capizza Pizzeria****. Trust me, once you’re inside, you’ll forget you’re in Hobotown and feel like you’ve transported to beautiful Flavor City*****. Haiku!
Old friends catching up
over a decadent pie
Sweet, the memories.
*That, and GoGurt. No GoGurt in Cuba.
**Because this is America.
***Or e-book, as ‘twere these days.
****Maybe take a tin of baked beans as a peace offering, just in case you do get cornered.
*****If you’re lucky, you might spot some bum fights on your way out of the neighborhood. Dinner AND a show!
I’m going to be honest with you, because you deserve that. Readers, I’m going to give it to you straight. No BS, no fancy language; heck, I’m not even convinced I will use multi-syllabic words.
In fact, I’m about to use NO multi-syllabic words to tell you about Rosa’s Pizza*.
One of the worst oft-used box schemes out there. Where did they make this pizza, “The Max***”???
I drank some wine with friends. Scratch that. I drank a good deal of wine with friends. We sat on my roof, on a nice day, and did this. At the end of the day, we had a need for pizza to give weight to our tums. You know what I mean.
Rosa’s Pizza hit the spot.
Some may call it “drunk food”. I just call it food.
Top marks for thick cheese and a crust of dough. Low marks for style and sauce. At times, sauce just ends up a waste of time; a thing that does not add to a pizza, a thing that just makes the bits on top not stick in place. This was one of those times. But all in all? She did the trick. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand - HAIKU!
A day in the sun,
Anchored in pepperoni.
Again, next weekend?
*Except for “Rosa’s” and “pizza”, obviously. Don’t be ridiculous**.
**And the haiku is exempt. Just want to cover my bases before one of you #pizzalisters gets all snarky barky with your syllable-counting malarky.
Rocky’s Brick Oven Pizza had a lot to live up to. This was the first American pizza I ordered following my much-anticipated trip to the Mecca of pizzadom- Italy*. For nearly two weeks I gorged myself on some of the finest, tastiest, most authentic pizzas this little green and blue planet of ours has to offer**, and suddenly I found myself back in the mundane world of the everyday pizza…
That being said, Rocky’s Brick Oven Pizza delivered. Its thin, cracker-like crust and fresh chunky ingredients could just as well have been served at a sidewalk ristorante in Napoli.
I saw several ristorantes in Italy whose tables were weirdly across the street, so even the box is authentic!
I recommend the ham, pineapple and ricotta pizza. The small pizza is perfectly sized for one person with a healthy appetite and a determination to eat all things that are delicious.
Pineapple, ham and ricotta! All fresh off the vine***!!!
So hats off to ye, Rocky. You were a tasty transition back into the world of American pizzas and I’m not ashamed to admit I ate you all in one sitting. Haiku!
sweetening the salty crust…
Thin, barely holds it.
*Italy post coming soon!!!
**Pizzas on other planets don’t work so well. Tried one on Mars but the toppings kept floating away.
This #pizzalist pizza came from Abruzzi Pizza Plus. I almost slept through this pizza, which would have been a shame, for their “pepperoni delight” was a balm on my pizza-hungry soul.
Now if you’re like me, you hear “pepperoni delight” and you think, “Well, gosh, Hank*, that must mean it’s a pizza with a crapload of pepperoni on it. That will be a delight**!”
WHAT A FOOLHARDY ASSUMPTION YOU HAVE MADE!!!
Grrrl that cuisine is lookin’ fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.
No, this is Abruzzi Pizza PLUS****, where you don’t just get a crapload of pepperoni (which is, by the way, a delight), but you also get beef, peppers, and nom nom nom nom- what were we talking about I got hungry and started eating my computer. Haiku time!
Wake up! Pizza time.
A pepperoni delight,
no longer a dream.
*You’ve met Hank, right?
**If your response to pepperoni is less positive, then according to maritime law*** Hank is obligated to fight you.
This week I let Cody pick out the #pizzalist pizza of the week and he followed his pizza-shaped heart* right to Don Giovanni’s.
The most notable part of this pizza experience was when I called Don Giovanni to find out why he sent us a plain cheese pizza instead of the margharita pizza we ordered. Turns out that was the Don’s idea of a margharita pizza and I was the jerk. So, sorry Gio. She was cheesey, delicious, and went really well reheated and topped with pulled pork from Southern Hospitality**.
Cheese on a pizza is like clouds in the sky. What do YOU see?***
Hit my triangle-shaped spot
But I can’t win games
Where’s the basil, dude?
This is just a cheese pizza.
Whatevs. Still pizza.
Pulled pork pizza. Not for the faint of stomach.
*Instead of ventricles, pizzablood is pumped through its stuffed crusts.