Pizza of the past (part two)

Note: Due to technical difficulties, I was unable to post this directly from my phone

   I am writing this from my phone. I just sat down in a pretty secluded seat next to a little buffet. I do not remember the buffet. I would not suggest you try anything other than this place's pizza.
   Other than the buffet, the place did not change. There were "Central Division Champs" Cleveland Indians banners, pictures of Bernie Kosar and pictures of Mark Price, the same pictures I remember from years ago, hanging near the unnaturally high ceiling.
   The entire inside smelled of some type of pasta. It was pretty warm inside. Was it because of the thermostat or the warmth of the employees? Like every pizzeria I have been to over the past few weeks, the employees were welcoming and had pleasant dispositions. They are being payed, I guess.
   If  you are a lemonade drinker, I suggest ordering the lemonade. Not only is it as thirst quenching as water, it is 100 percent natural, absolutely delicious and went perfect with the pizza.
   The pizza was much different than the slices from the last two entries. 750ml's pizza was Chicago style. Big Star Pizza's sample was New York style. Peppi's and Luigi's was its own recipe. This recipe seemed to be exactly the same as I remember it.

I'll upload pictures later. I have been having technical difficulties.

Pizza of the past (part one)

   For my third installment of Ohio by the slice, I will be revisiting a favorite from my past.

   The memories of Peppi’s and Luigi’s are lodged in the back of my mind with little league baseball and playing hooky from school.

   This place was a childhood favorite of mine. In the best way possible, it stuck out like a sore thumb between a liquor store and an adult book store. It sits in a small shopping center on the corner of two busy streets. This place, in Barberton, OH, is the definition of a hole in the wall.

   The inside of this personable pizzeria is spattered with Italian art and architecture. Aside from the art, the community’s love of Cleveland sports is spread across the restaurant.

   If the place still matches the description held in my mind’s eye, I am in for a delicious pizza pie in a comfortable, family oriented, old fashioned Italian atmosphere. This description does not fit the mold of the bland building in between the two other buildings catering to the local addictions. But this place truly is a scrumptious eatery that makes one feel right at home.

   Tomorrow, I go back in time. I revisit childhood memories and hopefully satisfy my senses with a mouth watering slice of pizza.

Pizza in NYC, OH (part three)

   With this piece of art on a plate in front of me, I hesitate to even touch the slice. I almost looked around for the "do not touch the art work" sign.
   With widened eyes and a watering mouth, I place my thumb right thumb under the crust and my index and middle finger on top. I use my four fingers on my left hand to support the body of the pizza. An epic smell gets stronger as I raise the slice towards my mouth.
   This New York style pizza was much thinner than the Chicago style pizza. The vegetables complemented the structure nicely and it was relatively light in weight. Though a little flimsy, the cheese and toppings stayed on perfectly.
   Before I took a bite, I knew this was no ordinary chain pizza. 750ml had good pizza via the Vacarros behind the bar. But, this was no ordinary pizza. this was the kind of pizza that no chain restaurant can produce. This was an original recipe  used my one pizza joint.
   The piece explodes in my mouth with flavor as I bite into it. The sauce is propelled into my mouth and the vegetable soon follow riding along on the cheese. This is the best combination of vegetables I have ever had. The sauce's subtle tartness compliments them perfectly. The taste and texture provolone cheese could not have been duplicated or bettered by any other type of cheese.
   If I did not know any better, I would have thought I was in New York City. The ambiance, the genuine employees, the imagery and the pie. If you ever get a hankering  to try a New York style pizza, Big Star is the place. If you ever get the hankering to go to New York, Big Star is the place.

Pizza in NYC, OH (part two)

   As I walk past the array of Italian colored neon lights into the propped open door, an assortment of smells invade my nostrils.
   Tiramisu, baklava, biscotti, strombolis, calzones, chicken, soups and three types of pizza were all competing to win over my senses. My nose and eyes were telling my appetite  to get some of everything. It was tough to just get one slice of New York style pizza.
   The employees were friendly and made me feel at home. I found out that Big Star Pizza is a family owned restaurant. they have been using the recipe for decades. They were the original pizza place in Rolling Acres mall. I think it is fortunate for them that the mall failed. This place should not be looked at as food court pizza. The menu is too epic and the people are too genuine.
   There were numerous slices already ready. I ordered a fresh slice with green peppers, onions, black olives, spinach and tomatoes. New York style pizzas are known for being good with vegetables.
   The inside of Big Star is a pretty visually stimulating atmosphere. Aside from the excellently prepared food on display, the mix of yellow, green, lime green and red really keeps you at attention while you are inside. It is not a negative effect, but an interesting effect. Are these colors keeping me from being bored during my wait? It made inanimate objects stand out. It was reminiscent to what Aldous Huxley explained in Doors of Perception. Huxley talks about his early trial with mescaline and how it allowed him to view objects for their issness, or istigkeit, rather than what function they serve and how proportionate they are to him. Did these colors manipulate my brain in some strange way to keep me from being bored? No. I suspect that this thought was actually a result of me being bored.
   The wait was not long. In the matter of 10 minutes, I had a delicious looking slice of pizza in front of me. The vegetables sat on the cheese like an art composition. The smell overpowered the smell of the other food constantly being cooked. I knew I was in for a better slice than my first trial with the Chicago style pizza. 

Pizza in NYC, OH

   Today I am visiting New York City for my next installment in this pizza blog--supposedly.
   I was told to eat at a place in Copley called Big Star Pizza over the summer. The place was very inviting. The neon lights, the yellow, red and lime green coloring inside along with the large selection of food just reminds one of the big city.
   I chose to have the Chicago style pizza. It was a good pizza and much better than the average slice from a chain pizza place. I was a bit disappointed. I was expecting a slice of pizza that transcended state lines and made me feel like I was outside of Wrigley Field stuffing my face with dough, cheese and sauce.
   After talking about my disappointment, I was told that I should have tried the New York style pizza. It is their specialty. I should have known this was the case. The place is very reminiscent to Sal's Pizza from Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing.
   The Chicago pizza was good. It has been described as "okay." If the Chicago pizza is "okay," I cannot imagine how tasty the New York pie will be. It has been called the best example of New York style pizza not in New York.
   You have to love an excuse to indulge in fine pizza every week. At lunch, I will go to Big Star, New York, OH and find out what the fuss is about.

Pizza at Gatsby's (part three)

   Sorry for the delay. I know my readership have been sitting at their personal computers and laptops, if not both, with their eyes glued to their smart phones just waiting for the conclusion to my pizza peril.
   This pizza was good, very good. Every facet of the pie was enjoyable.
   I talked with two of the friendly employees over this lunch. As stated last post, what I eventually learned was a little surprising. The pizza was not made at the bar. It was ordered from a take-out joint behind the bar called Vaccaro's. This explained why there was no sign of a kitchen or kitchen workers in the place--at least not on this day.
   I am not a big wine drinker. I am neither here nor there on the bar scene. I am not an advocate of the pretense and status quo mixture that is aristocratism. But I do love good pizza and friendly, chatty service. Maybe it was just the day I was in there.
   Regardless, I will return to 750ml. Fresh pizza, a comfortable chair and enjoyable employees are enough to keep me coming back.

Pizza at "Gatsby's" (part two)

   When I thought about it, I realized that 750ml was not to blame for any apprehension. The employees were nice, genuine and very pleasant. There is no reason to judge an establishment by the crowd it attracts at a particular time on a particular day.
   I looked down at my petite plate and the fancy, glistening fork in its grasp.
   "What do you expect, it's a wine bar," I thought to myself.
   When my order arrived I let any discomfort or ill thoughts go.
  



  
   The pie was poetic. The cheese blanketed the dough like a melting quilt with the sauce lying beneath in a dream state. A myriad of vegetables, spinach, green pepper, onion and tomato, rest on top, glued by the molten cheese.
   Not every pizza is good with vegetables, not a lot of pizzas are good with a lot of vegetables. This one is.
   The sauce had a slight sweetness. The cheese and toppings stayed on for the ride through every bite.
Once you ingested the body, it was not the end of the line. You still have a buttery, soft crust that crisps on the outside with a hint of garlic. The melted cheese shelled over adds the perfect touch.
   I look around the restaurant, wondering why these aristocrats and hipsters are not joining in on the epic deliciousness.
   I shake my head and start a conversation with the employees. I thought aloud and asked why it seems like we are the only people in the place eating the great pizza.
   The answer surprised me.