Week 11: Pizzeria Lola

Dateline: Saturday, dinner hour.  Location: Golden Valley, MN.  Scene: the female half of our beloved couple is enjoying a “bear-nap” (side note: bear naps differ from their distant cousin, the cat nap because the bear nap is a deep, hibernation-style sleep that could, left uninterrupted, go on for months.  Bear naps typically occur in one’s “den” aka bed versus the cat nap which often takes place in a chair or, for some cats, in a sink.)  while the male half bounces around the house shouting, “I like pizza!  I like it!”  All that chattering woke the bear from her deep, deep slumber and she begrudgingly returned to the vertical position, brushed her teeth, and our couple took off for Southwest Minneapolis, just nine miles from our front door.

Some pre-pizza research about our week 11 destination, Pizzeria Lola, had us both intrigued and a little nervous.  Known for their unique wood-fired pizzas and notoriously long waits, we feared the worst.  While we wouldn’t have to stand in line, pig-style, we were less than enthusiastic about the prospect of rubbing elbows with the real housewives of 50^th & France while our tummies growled and we became faint from hunger.   We faced our fears, said a silent thank you to my former boss, Dave, who recommended Pizzeria Lola, and off we went on yet another pizza-related adventure.

Pre-Pizza Moods:  It goes without saying that my hubby’s pre-pizza mood was high, whereas I was fighting fatigue and not sure if I would rather eat or sleep.  He clocked in at an 8 and I was more like a 4.

Parking Situation:   When we arrived in Southwest Minneapolis, my heart fell into my stomach as I noted that there is no parking lot for Pizzeria Lola.  Technically, there is a parking lot nearby, but it was in the process of having new asphalt laid, so street parking was the only option – and suffice to say, at 6:15 PM, there were a lot of cars already on the street.  We scored a spot about half a block away, noting an abundance of pizza-loving zombies lurking all over the sidewalk in front of Lola. 

Exterior Appearance:  Pizzeria Lola is wedged between a French gastro pub and a one-hour martinizing drycleaner.  Lola’s patio is adorable and inviting – and also apparently dog-friendly!  Owner Ann Kim named the pizzeria after her beloved Weimaraner.  If you like to enjoy your pizza al fresco, this is the patio for you.  And your dog. 

Entrance/Welcome:  After pushing through the throngs of pizza-craving patio dwellers, we entered Pizzeria Lola.  The host station is located right inside the door and although there appeared to be a large number of future pizza eaters lurking about, we were immediately seated without so much as a nanosecond wait.  This stroke of good fortune improved my mood significantly!

Clientele/Overall Vibe: This place was packed with attractive people.  I have rarely seen so many blinding white veneers, Botox, Rolexes, and European shoes all in one place.  I didn’t realize that real housewives and their scary-attractive partners actually ate pizza . . . until I noticed the impressive wine list.  We all know that real housewives are fueled by collagen and wine. 

Side note: the acoustics inside of Lola create a din in the air.  This isn’t a place to whisper sweet nothings to your beloved, because s/he wouldn’t be able to hear them over the clinking and laughter of your fellow diners.  If you don’t mind shouting, you’ll do just fine here.

Wait Staff: Our server was b-u-s-y.  She jogged by periodically and seemed friendly, although I had a hard time hearing anything she said over the ambient noise of the restaurant.  I mostly just nodded and smiled.

Menu Selection: Pizzeria Lola isn’t trying to be anything other than a pizzeria – and I, for one, appreciate that.  I’m tired of visiting pizza joints that want to sell me a fried chicken or a club sandwich.  If you’re not in the mood for pizza, go someplace else.  If you’re in the mood for a wood-fired pizza – either a classic or an innovative variety – this menu has something for you.  We were unsure of the size of the pizzas – and due to the noise, asking our server was an exercise in futility, so we bravely decided to order two pizzas.  The hubby ordered a Sweet Italian – featuring house red sauce, homemade fennel sausage, mozzarella, provolone, red onion, and Peppadew.  Embracing my roots as a child of the 80’s, I went for the My Sha-Roni! with house red sauce, mozzarella, natural-casing pepperoni and homemade fennel sausage. 

Food Wait Time: We forgot to time our pizza arrival because we were absorbed with people-watching.  It arrived neither at lightening fast speed nor at tortoise-slow speed so I’m going to rate the wait time as average. 

Drumroll, Please . . . The Pizza Itself:  I’m just going to say it.  If there is a better wood-fired pizza in town, I haven’t sampled it.  Our wood-fired pizza was not blackened to a charred crisp but was perfectly prepared.  The Sweet Italian kicked My Sha-Roni’s butt in terms of flavor, but we licked the platters clean.  Both pizzas were delicious but the Sweet Italian is hands-down, the best wood-fired creation that has ever passed my lips. 

My hubby – who, if you recall, after week 8, was not a fan of the Neapolitan pizza . . . that is, until he experienced Lola, which he rates among his top five pizza experiences.

Price & Value: Pizzeria Lola is pricey – and based on their location and clientele, they can afford to be.  A personal-sized pizza will run you $15 and you’ll pay upwards of $8 a glass for vino.  Even the beer ain’t cheap.  Our total bill - including tip – was just shy of $60.  We certainly can’t afford to visit Lola on a regular basis, but it was definitely a date-night treat.

Post-Pizza Mood: As we waddled toward the door, post-meal, we overheard the hostess telling people that the wait for a table would be between 90 minutes to two hours.  We felt triumphant; bellies full; and we didn’t even wait for our table!  Winner, winner, pizza dinner!  That victorious feeling meant we left Lola at a 9.  The price-tag and the noisy dining environment kept us from perfect 10’s.

Bottom Line: This place is lovely.  The pizza is delicious, the patio is welcoming . . . and if you clip enough coupons in the week(s) prior, you’ll easily be able to swallow the price tag and maybe even enjoy a $12 glass of wine.  Be prepared to wait . . . or sneak in at off-hours to experience it for yourself.

  

Week 10: Turtles Bar & Grill (Shakopee, MN)

It’s hard to believe we’re only ten weeks into our little pizza journey.  Three months ago, when we sat across from each other at Parkway Pizza, cheese dripping from our chins, we thought it would be amusing to eat pizza every single week for a year.  It would give me a creative writing outlet that wouldn’t put our marriage at risk the way, say, kissing a lot of frogs might.  (If that makes no sense to you, read the blog.  Which you should do anyway).  My hubby is our family photographer and he’d contribute by snapping all the photos we needed.  We’d satisfy our insatiable cravings for pizza and more importantly, someone else would be responsible for the cooking. 

After ten weeks of pizza consumption, we’ve tested our initial hypotheses and I’m pleased to report that preliminary results indicate that we were right all along!  What we didn’t predict, though, is the profoundly positive impact all this pizza has had on our relationship.  (I won’t discuss the impact all this pizza has had on our cholesterol and waistlines, however.)  It’s awfully easy to fall into a rut and even when two people are living under the same roof, quality time can be displaced by routine; by chores; or in my case, by the lure of “Bravolebrities”.  Pizza every week gives us something to look forward to; makes sure we go on a date every Saturday night; and allows us to experience a new adventure as a couple at least once a week.

Week 10 was not just an adventure, but also a journey.  We traipsed 25 miles from home to Shakopee, MN.  If you’re reading this blog from Serbia, note that the correct pronunciation of the town’s name is SHAH kuh pee, not shah KO pee or shah ko PEE, no matter what you may have heard from Brenda and Brandon Walsh.  Shakopee is located on the south bank of the Minnesota River and boasts a population just under 40,000 residents.  Shakopee is home of several attractions that draw visitors to this bedroom community, including:

•          Valleyfair – a family amusement park whose single-day passes can run you $40 per person.  My general disdain for humankind and propensity for motion sickness means I haven’t voluntarily visited Valleyfair in at least 20 years. 
•          Canterbury Park – a horse-racing track.  Not really my cup of tea either.  I’ve never seen a horse race in person.  I know a lot of people are really into horse racing, but my innate laziness means I really don’t want to watch any mammal break a sweat or run for its dear life as sport. 
•          Mystic Lake Casino – nicknamed “Mistake Lake” by those of us who’ve never won a dime in this Native-American casino.  When I was much younger, much poorer, and able to stay awake past 9 PM, my fellow service-industry professional pals and I would head to Mystic after closing up our various movie theaters, convenience stores, and restaurants, where we would invariably lose most of our crappy minimum wage earnings. 
•          Shakopee Women’s Correctional Facility – this is fancy talk for a women’s prison.  Constructed in 1986, this prison houses about 600 female offenders.

In spite of the many attractions of the county seat of Scott County, I’m not sure I’ve visited Shakopee since I hit the legal drinking age, which is somewhere between 10 and 40 years ago, depending on how old you think I am and what school of math you follow.  To be honest, I wasn’t even certain where Shakopee was located and without the wisdom of my hubby and the soothing electronic bossiness of the disembodied GPS voice, I can’t guarantee I could find Shakopee by car.

My friend Kim, who calls Shakopee home, and who is one of the kindest, most generous, big-hearted people I know, recommended we visit her town and partake of pizza at a joint called Turtles, so we gassed up the car and prepared for a road trip.

Pre-Pizza Moods:  My hubby’s pre-pizza mood was hovering around a 6.  He kept saying things like, “We’re going all the way to Shakopee?! For pizza?  Do you have any idea how far away that is?”  (Clearly, I didn’t have any idea nor did I really care since he is the designated driver for this household.)  He wanted pizza and he wanted it now, not in an hour or however long it would take us to get there. 

My pre-pizza mood was pretty good.  It had been a gorgeous fall-like day; I’d met a dear friend for a dog-walk and even snuck in a very relaxing afternoon nap.  Pizza seemed like a great way to top it all off.  I was hovering around an 8.

Parking Situation:  First off, Shakopee is kind of a haul – and it’s an interesting town with a vibe that is part suburb, part small-town.  We cruised by the American Legion on our way to Turtles and noted that they are proudly under new management.  I don’t know why that made me burst into fits of giggles, but it did.  As we commuted to our pizza date, it began to rain and by the time we got close to Turtles, it was raining enough to require an umbrella, which of course, we did not have in our possession. 

The parking situation was adequate.  There is no true parking lot but rather, street parking up and down 1^st Avenue East.  We wedged our car between two large pick-up trucks – which seem to be the preferred vehicle of the Shakopee-ite – about half a block away and ran through the rain to Turtles.

Exterior Appearance:  Due to the rain, I must confess I was more focused on keeping my hair dry than admiring the aesthetics of Turtles exterior.  My gut reaction was that it looked like a typical small-town corner bar . . . and that it was awfully crowded for 6:30 PM on a Saturday night.  I guess the American Legion wasn’t packing in a crowd yet.

Entrance/Welcome: Upon entering, you can go left or right and there are bars conveniently located on both sides.  A hostess will greet you right away.  If you choose to eat in the dining room (which we did), prepare to wait.  We had about a 35 minute wait for a table, so we amused ourselves at the bar with an adult beverage for me and an iced tea for the mister.

Clientele/Overall Vibe: I’m not sure I’d name my restaurant after an animal whose most notable quality is its slow speed.  I did notice a decidedly turtle-like quality to the speed of service.  The clientele is definitely a local crowd and a mix of hard-core drinkers, sports fans, and families.  Turtles has 20 large HD TV’s located throughout their neighborhood bar and grill and all of these are tuned into sporting events.  We sat directly underneath a TV screen so large (and so loud) that we had a hard time concentrating on anything else.  In fact, other patrons had to look through our heads to see the football game going on at our table.

Aside from the glow of the giant TVs, this place has a bit of a cave-like feel to it.  It’s not as dark as Savoy’s, for example, but I could definitely see this as a hang-out for south metro vampires.

Wait Staff: Our server was pleasant, if a bit turtle-like.  She helped us navigate the menu and made some recommendations for us as first-timers.

Menu Selection: The menu here is enormous!  Whether you’re craving fried chicken, pasta, Angus beef, a wrap sandwich, or thin-crust pizza . . . look no further than Turtles.  They have a selection of specialty pizzas and you can always make your own.  According to the menu, their pizza sauce is homemade and the thin crust is hand tossed.  We ordered something called the “Hey Dude” which features sausage, pepperoni, onions, green peppers, mushrooms, and green olives.  Turtles also has a great drink menu with a nice beer selection, so I enjoyed a tasty Blue Moon on tap with my pizza.

Food Wait Time: I hate to beat the turtle metaphor to death, but we were darned hungry.  We drove all the way to Shakopee, waited 35 minutes for a table, and then waited another 40 minutes for our pizza to arrive.  At one particularly low point, I considered chewing on the laminate table. 

Drumroll, Please . . . The Pizza Itself:  I couldn’t help thinking of Red Savoy’s as we dined at Turtles.  Maybe it was because the pizza was delivered to us on a plastic cafeteria tray; maybe it was the dim lighting; or maybe it was the homemade thin crust pizza.  Our “Hey Dude” reminded me of a Red Savoy knock-off.  It wasn’t quite as delicious as Red Savoy – it needed more sauce and the crust was inconsistent in its crispiness.  It was cheesy, it was greasy, and it was homemade . . . and I had that same feeling of déjà vu, as if I’d stumbled upon a hole-in-the-wall, meat raffling, pull-tabbing Northern MN bars. 

Price & Value: Turtles isn’t the cheapest date in town.  Our large “Hey Dude” and my need for adult beverages racked up a $40 bill plus tip.  I was full and satisfied upon leaving, and I seem to recall that we brought some leftovers home, although once again, they disappeared before I could turn them into a future lunch.

Post-Pizza Mood: We don’t get to Shakopee often (ok – this was the first trip we’ve made to Shakopee together, ever) and it was an experience.  My post-pizza mood was positively impacted by a lot of Blue Moon and I left at a solid 9.  My silly antics ensured that my hubby was also in a good mood upon our return to civilization.

Bottom Line: If you live in Shakopee – or if you’re visiting a female inmate – I have no doubt that this is the best pizza in town.  I’m not sure I’d make a special trip to Shakopee just for this pizza, but I will more than likely meet my friend Kim at Turtles for a drink!  In all seriousness, Turtles is a middle of the road pizza.  It’s not the best we’ve had lo these last 10 weeks, but it certainly isn’t the worst.  If you’re a sports fan or a beer fan in Scott Country, head over, watch the game, and get your pizza on!

Week 9: Leaning Tower of Pizza - Minneapolis

As we embarked on our 9^th consecutive week of pizza consumption, our lack of enthusiasm was notable.  Frankly, I’ve seen greater excitement surrounding a pending root canal than I observed in our humble household that fateful Saturday evening.   While I maintain my stance that all pizza is good pizza by virtue of its membership in “genus pizza”, three weeks of so-so ‘za had taken a toll on us.  If I’m going to consume these levels of salt, fat, grease and carbohydrates, I want the experience to be spectacular, especially when I know what types of cruel and unusual punishment await me in the dark, dank, scary recesses of my personal trainer’s heart.  [Side note: in spite of the fact that he’s seen me roll sideways off a weight bench, walk into a door, and crumple into a heap on the floor, Trainer Aaron’s optimism knows no bounds.  He is constantly challenging my ability to fight the earth’s gravitational forces and don’t even get me started on what he wants me to do with that damn stability ball.]

After the great ordering fiasco known as week 7, I’ve been pretty diligent about conducting informal research before we leave the house.  A quick Google search often provides interesting details about our chosen pizza joint and sometimes offers some tips and tricks for the first-timer.   Although our week 9 destination – Leaning Tower of Pizza – came highly recommended by my friends Heidi, Mark, and Dede, the interweb was less complimentary.  In fact, after reading a few Yelp and UrbanSpoon reviews, that trip to the dentist was starting to sound like a better option.  Do I trust my friends or the friends I haven’t met yet, hiding behind clever screen names with nothing better to do that critique restaurants online?  (Wait . . . isn’t that what I’m doing? How come it sounds so much worse when I mock others for it?) 

We trudged out to the car as if we were facing a firing squad and headed 5.3 miles to my least favorite area in town; Uptown.  Why my great disdain for Uptown, you ask?  Well, it’s pretty simple.  First, I believe we’ve already dissected my poor driving and parking record.  Uptown is rife with places to smash my car, run over bicyclists, or flatten pedestrians.  I simply do not have the driving skills to navigate this real-life game of Pole Position.  Second, Uptown is a young person’s haven.  And while I’ve been lying about my age for quite some time, I have always had the soul of a 97 year old woman.  I’m not interested in your piercings, your tattoos, your music, your ironic t-shirt collection, etc.  You’re young, I get it.  You think the world revolves around you.  But only one of us is a princess in this scenario, and it ain’t you!  My general contempt for hipsters combined with my parking problems and the irate old woman living inside me combine to make me dread visiting Uptown at all costs.  Besides, I recently did some significant body damage to my car in an Uptown parking ramp and I’m holding a grudge. 

In spite of the malaise in the air, our pre-pizza moods were better than one might expect, all things considered.  Our expectations were low but our spirits were high.

Pre-Pizza Moods:  We both clocked in around a 7.  Moods would have been higher but I anticipated parking problems and a hipster doofus infestation.  On the plus side, my pre-pizza research provided me with two very handy pieces of intel.  Social-media savvy first-time visitors who check in on Foursquare  receive a free order of cheese bread.  I love Foursquare because I enjoy engaging in invisible competition with strangers to achieve world domination by way of mayorship, so I was certainly not going to miss an opportunity to use my iphone to score some free snacks.  Secondly, my research identified a pizza coupon which I printed at home and brought with to save some additional coin on my future dinner.  I encourage you to check out the deals online before you visit!

Parking Situation:  Okay, you’re Uptown, so you know parking is at a premium.  Leaning Tower does have a small parking lot for their patrons, but if you blink (or look on the wrong side of the street), you’ll miss it.  Which we did, necessitating a trip around the block before we were able to pull in and park.  This is a place I will never, ever be allowed to visit alone, because I would most certainly total my car.  If you’re not parking challenged, you could also opt for street parking.

Exterior Appearance:  It’s not much to look at from the outside.  It looks like your typical Uptown establishment, but there’s a sign and a door, which is more than I can say for some of these hipster hangouts like stupid Chino Latino.

Entrance/Welcome: We walked in and it’s a seat-yourself joint.  So we did.  I had to breathe through my mouth because the smell of patchouli was overwhelming.  Eventually, a server came by, gave us some menus, and said hello.

Clientele / Overall Vibe:  Yes, it did in fact smell like patchouli inside.  And yes, there were some hipsters in my presence.  However, most of the patrons seemed to be decidedly non-hipster folks in search of some food and drink.  And you know even I can’t find anything about that to mock.  Leaning Tower of Pizza boasts two daily happy hours and this is definitely a bar first, pizza joint second.  You can belly up to the bar, play a board game, and drink on the cheap between 4-6 PM and/or 10:30 PM – 12:30 AM.  We were between happy hours during our visit but based on the advertised specials, I can imagine this place attracts a lot of frugal drinkers.

Wait Staff: Cruel online pizza reviewers had a lot of negative things to say about the wait staff at Leaning Tower.   My server was extremely helpful, polite, and efficient.  There was another server in my peripheral vision who redid her hair about 37 times during my dinner – I guess she couldn’t figure out the best placement for her ironic “Hello Kitty” style bow – and who looked as if she needed a bowl of raisin bran and some Miralax to wipe that constipated expression from her face.  But since I only had to look at her and not actually interact with her, I shouldn’t judge.  But I do.

Menu Selection:  You can order from their selection of specialty pizzas (my friend Dede recommends the Potter), you can opt for the pizza of the month, or you can design your own.  After a consultation with our server, we ordered something called the Hot Tower, which features hot & spicy pizza sauce, sausage, pepperoni, onions, green peppers, jalapenos, topped with pepper jack, mozzarella cheese and crushed red peppers.  Or, if you’re in the mood for a burger or pasta, knock yourself out.  They’ve got it all here.  Note: their website appears to be down for maintenance today or I would post a link to the menu.  

Food Wait Time: About 30 minutes from order to table. 

Drumroll, Please . . . the Pizza Itself:  Oh, Leaning Tower of Pizza, thank you!  You’ve restored our faith in pizza.  You were the pizza we’ve been wanting to eat lo these last several weeks.  Your crust is thin and crispy.  Your cheeses did not coagulate in my throat or strangle me and I applaud your creative use of pepper jack.  With a name like “hot tower”, we knew this pizza would have a little bit of a bite – and it did.  Which, by the way, went beautifully with my beer.  It was greasy, it was crispy, it was saucy (in a good way) and I wanted to lick the platter clean.

Price & Value:  With our $2 off coupon and free cheese bread, this meal was a bargain!  Total cost, including tip and adult beverages for me,  was just about $30.   

Post-Pizza Mood: Leaving the Leaning Tower, we were both perfect 10’s.  No one crashed our cars, we didn’t get overrun by hipsters, we didn’t pay $60 for a pizza that left us hungry and wanting for more . . . and we had a lovely date night.  This was the pizza that renewed our faith in pizza – and in our little pizza every week experiment. 

Bottom Line: Lesson learned.  My friends have great taste in pizza, and I should always take their word over the words of friends I haven’t met yet who post mean things on the internet.  I would love to return to the Leaning Tower – but you’ll have to drive me!  This is the pizza that reminded us why we love pizza.  You won't be disappointed.

Week 8: Punch Neapolitan Pizza

What started off as a promising three-day break from the daily grind (does it make me seem old if I make a reference to “time to make the doughnuts”?) quickly turned sour as week 8 of “pizza every week” came to its conclusion.  Picture it.  It’s a Friday afternoon preceding Labor Day.  For those of us in Arctic climates, Labor Day marks the end of summer, reminds us to put our white clothes and shoes away and is a cue to dig out our woolen wear.  Since we spend approximately 11 months of the year complaining about the weather here in the great Midwest – and most of that time is spent trapped indoors to avoid frostbite and/or heat exhaustion – Labor Day weekend tends to start early and we use it as a farewell to summer.  Bottom line is this.  Only workaholics, lunatics, or those being punished work past 2 PM on the Friday before Labor Day ‘round these parts.

Most of my colleagues didn’t even bother to show up for work that day – and those that did began packing up their belongings before lunchtime.  By 1 PM, I was ready to join them and embarked on my own pre-departure checklist.  But then . . . my phone rang.  And my email bleeped.  And my instant messenger client started blinking ominously.  Five hours later, with every ounce of empathy drained from my Grinch heart, I dragged myself to the car, sent a warning text to my husband, and drove myself home in blissful silence.  My text message was clear: “Coming home. Hate everyone. Do not want to communicate in sentences longer than 10 words all night.  I want a cocktail, jammies, a book, and total silence.” 

I woke up Saturday morning feeling like a cross between the Grinch’s personality-double (before his big transformation) and the mayor of Crankytown.  The very thought of getting out of bed and interacting with my fellow man (or woman or child) was simply more than I could bear.  Pizza?  Out of the question, because getting pizza would require me to put on pants.  No way, no how, no pizza.  From my sleeping chamber, I beckoned my husband, who took one look at my crazy eyes and agreed to reschedule pizza every week to Sunday before he beat feet to a safer (and less crazy) part of the house.

Although I did manage to spend most of the day in bed, curled up with a fantastic Jack Reacher thriller (thanks, Lee Child for your books), even Jack’s rebellious crime-fighting tactics in a South Dakota snowstorm didn’t improve my mood to the levels required to complete basic tasks like leaving the house.  I was crushed by an overwhelming desire to remain horizontal and in jammies.  But duty calls and my husband’s patience only goes so far – and Sunday evening, I reluctantly donned pants and we headed “Nordeast” to Punch Neapolitan Pizza, recommended by my cousin, Jhanel.

What’s that?  Why the long preamble, you ask?  Well . . . it’s safe to say that the black cloud of depression joined us on our week 8 pizza date, and didn’t even deign to pay his own way!  And although I firmly believe that all pizza is good pizza by virtue of its membership in the genus pizza, a foul mood can really cast a pall on the pizza experience. 

Pre-Pizza Moods:

Princess D: Mood hovering somewhere between -3 and +2.71.  If I were campaigning for office as Mayor of Crankytown against Grumpy Cat, it would be no contest.  Grumpy Who?  Amateur hour.

Hubby: Around a 5.  Clearly the black cloud of doom hovering over me took no prisoners. 

Parking Situation:  Punch Neapolitan Pizza proudly boasts seven Twin Cities locations, so you can enjoy their Naples-inspired wood-fired pizza from Highland Park to Eden Prairie to Wayzata and at several locations right in beautiful Minneapolis.     

Their Nordeast location is located at 210 East Hennepin Ave, between St. Anthony Main and the University of Minnesota.  It’s tucked into a cute little storefront but in this ‘hood, parking is limited to metered street parking; pay-to-park lots; or those extremely dangerous (for me) parking ramps.  Most of the time, you’d be lucky to find a parking spot within a one block radius of Punch.  But the parking gods were smiling on the Mayor of Crankytown as we not only whipped into a metered parking spot right in front of the joint but realized that since it was Sunday, the parking was free!  My mood began to improve right away.

Exterior Appearance:  Brightly lit and welcoming, Punch is a little bit of Italy right here in Minneapolis.  Before you even open the front door, your olfactory senses are welcomed by the scent of baking dough, tomatoes, and wood-fired wonderfulness.  Even the mayor of Crankytown felt cheered by this.

Entrance/Welcome:  Upon entering Punch, you’ll see their signature wood-firing, tile oven where your future pizza will be fired to a blistering 800 degrees.  You’ll also see a counter – complete with sneeze-guard (similar to your local Subway franchise) and the menu is prominently displayed on the wall.  A friendly cashier offered to take our order, but even though she knew that it was our first time in this establishment, she wasn’t particularly helpful to us in navigating the menu or making recommendations.  I thought perhaps I was just being actively hostile in wanting her to be more helpful (I seem to be developing an anger management problem in my middle-age), but even my hubby commented later that he would have liked a warmer welcome and some additional help at the counter. 

Clientele and Overall Vibe: This place is warm, welcoming, and does an amazing job of bringing the warmth of a small Naples pizzeria to a bunch of fat, Scandinavian Midwesterners.  Unlike a true Neapolitan eatery, the tables are big enough to accommodate the girth of an American clientele and spaced far enough apart to accommodate our Midwestern desire to judge our neighbors from afar.  In addition, every seat has a view of the beautiful tiled wood-firing oven.  For those who prefer to dine al fresco, a sweet, romantic patio awaits you as well.

Punch was about half-full at dinner time on a Sunday on Labor Day weekend and it was mixture of hipster doofi; families; and people just like us. 

Wait Staff:  Because this is an order at the counter joint, there is no real wait-staff to speak of.  Thus, I cannot assess. 

Menu Selection: There is a lot to choose from here!  Because the pizzas are smaller – and because one of us was not in the mood to share – we decided to order individually.  I selected the classic Margherita pizza and also ordered a gorgonzola salad, since everything smelled so fresh and wonderful and who doesn’t love some gorgonzola?

The hubby, who was not sure about his feelings about Neapolitan pizza, was a little more adventurous and ordered a Napoli with sausage, mushroom, and onion.  

Food Wait Time: According to Punch, they can fire your pizza in about 90 seconds, so there isn’t a long wait from order to eating.  In fact, I believe we were eating our pizza within 10 minutes of placing our order!

Drumroll, Please . . . The Pizza Itself:  Neapolitan pizza is not your standard pizza.  If you’re craving a big, greasy, crispy crust delight, do yourself a favor and head to Red Savoy or Latuff’s.  But – if you’re fondly reminiscing about your trip to Italy (or planning a future trip) or if you just plain love olive oil and San Marzano tomatoes – do yourself a favor and head out to Punch, ASAP.    

A few things of note: Neapolitan pizza is meant to be eaten with a knife and fork.  It’s not finger food.  Due to the amount of olive oil and cheese and the wood-fire cooking, it has a bit of a “wet” texture, occasionally bordering on soggy.  The wood-fired cooking method also means that your crust will be cooked inconsistently.  In some places, you may find charred sections and other sections will be lightly cooked.  If this is a problem for you, go eat somewhere else. 

I enjoyed my pizza Margherita quite a bit.  There was so much of it that I was only able to wolf down 80% of it.  Eating this pizza took me back in time to my trip to Italy in 2002, where I enjoyed pizza from Venice to Florence to Rome. 

My hubby – who I didn’t know back in 2002 and who was unable to join me on this walk down memory lane – simply found the pizza to be soggy, wet, and so-so. 

Price & Value: Punch Pizza is somewhere between fast food and fine dining.  Total bill was $25.06 and that included two pizzas, a delicious salad (my hubby raved about the salad), and soda with unlimited refills. 

Post-Pizza Mood: It would be hard for my mood to have regressed any further – and in fact, eating at Punch brought my mood all the way up to a +3. 

My hubby, on the other hand, was less impressed and even though we scored free parking and he did love that salad, his post-pizza mood was unchanged at a 5.  Maybe a 5.5. 

Bottom Line: This is place I would visit again – although the parking situation does make me nervous.  I think it would be a great place to meet girlfriends for lunch or to pop in for a late afternoon snack.  My hubby?  He might go if you were paying, but he wasn’t won over by the wood-fired, Neapolitan experience.  Since there are Punch locations all over the metro, chances are there is one in your neighborhood and if you find yourself pining away for Italy but can’t afford the plane ticket, for $20 you might be able to create a little bit of Italy in your own backyard.  And I'd be happy to join you!  

Week 7: Aurelio's Pizza

You may have noticed that I’ve been tardy in my pizza posting.  That is due in part to a planned family vacation to the North Shore of Lake Superior (a little slice of heaven on earth) and more largely due to a severe case of writer’s block combined with what I like to call the lazies.  Week 7, therefore, was an “unofficial” pizza week.  The hubby and I did make our weekly pilgrimage to a pizzeria, but I made an executive decision that because I was on vacation and because I was outside of the Twin Cities metropolitan area, our trip to Sven & Ole's didn’t require a blog entry.  It was, however, delicious and if you visit Grand Marais, you are hereby ordered to stop by this North Shore institution for some pizza.

After a rejuvenating trip to God’s country, we returned home, reunited with our four-legged family member, and re-entered our regular lives.  To say that re-entry was bumpy is putting it mildly.  Upon our return to civilization, we got a cold, hard slap in the face from that party-pooper, Reality, and we had to dig deep and call on our long-lost pal, Resilience for wisdom and strength.   And of course, we then had to go buy a thank-you card for Gratitude and Blessings, so needless to say, our official week 7 pizza date night was far from the norm.

Our “official” week 7 destination was Roseville, MN – to a place recommended by a friend with an interesting caveat.  She recommended the pizza but warned me that although it was high in tastiness, her pizza place of choice was low in ambiance.  We took it in stride and headed out to what might be the weirdest strip mall I’ve ever visited in Roseville to visit Aurelio's Pizza.

Pre-Pizza Moods:

Princess D: 6

Hubby: 5

Parking Situation:  This was perhaps the finest, best maintained parking lot I’ve had the pleasure of visiting.  It boasted new, smooth asphalt; bright white lines of demarcation to indicate where one should park; and nice, wide parking spaces to boot.  Best part about it?  There were only three other cars visiting the entire weird strip mall when we arrived for dinner, so we had our choice of smooth, wide places to park.  This parking lot was so fine, I am confident that even a parking challenged idiot like me could handle it.  I give it my highest accolades.

Exterior Appearance:

This is a little tricky to describe.  Since my friend used the phrase, “hole in the wall” to describe Aurelio’s, I set my expectations accordingly.  What I wasn’t prepared for was this unusual strip mall.  Unlike your typical downtrodden, suburban strip mall (there’s an entire website devoted to dumpy strip malls, by the way.  Enjoy!) this particular suburban strip mall has enjoyed a recent facelift and revitalization.  In fact, it looks beautiful.  Problem is, it is a strip mall with exactly zero interesting retail tenants.  If you want to get a perm; buy a Bible; trade sports cards; or purchase a vacuum cleaner, by all means – swing on by Hamline Center and go wild.  After all that shopping, you’ll certainly have worked up an appetite but be not afraid!  This mall boasts both a chiropractor’s office and Aurelio’s Pizza!

Overall – this looks like an upscale, well-maintained strip mall.  Don’t make me go on and on about the parking lot.  And yet . . .  I’m not sure that I would ever intentionally visit it.  You be the judge.

Entrance/Welcome:  Walking into Aurelio’s is like getting into Marty McFly's DeLorean time machine and going back to 1979.  Upon entry, we were greeted by an elderly woman who seated us in a booth and promptly shuffled off, never to be seen again.  She was a dead-ringer for my departed Grandma Mary – except a little shorter and without the walker and bingo addiction. 

Also - it's important to note that Aurelio's is a franchise with locations in Illinois; Indiana; Georgia, and  Florida.  The only Aurelio's franchise in MN is in Roseville.

Interior Appearance:  Long, narrow, and the restaurant that time forgot is the only way to describe this place.  I did, however, enjoy both the tall booths and the selection of table-side Trivial Pursuit cards available for my dining room entertainment.  We took photos.  See for yourself:

Borrowed this photo from HeavyTable.com because it captures the booths nicely.  This is not my pizza.  Again, I ordered poorly.

Clientele and Overall Vibe:  Did I mention that there were only three cars in the parking lot?  We were about the only patrons inside Aurelio’s on this fine, Saturday evening, so there wasn’t really so much a vibe as there was . . . air flow circulating.  I was relieved, however, at the absence of hipster doofuses, and given that we were competing with the neighboring "great Minnesota get-together" for attendance, I can’t hold this against Aurelio’s.  Clearly, no one was purchasing sports memorabilia or getting their hair done, either.

Wait Staff: Our server was upbeat but as nervous as a Chihuahua with unlimited access to an espresso machine.  She was afraid of her own shadow and when asked challenging questions such as, “Is your iced tea sweetened or unsweetened?” she responded with “yes” or “no” answers which was confusing for all of us.  She was very sweet, though, and told us that she has been patronizing Aurelio’s for years.  She also helped us navigate the menu and made some suggestions for our meal.

Menu Selection:  I forgot to ask my friend, the pizza recommender, what I should order when at Aurelio’s and after further research, I’m a little worried that I ordered the wrong thing.  Aurelio’s has a diverse pizza menu with think and thick crust pizzas as well as a selection of gluten-free choices.  While I feel for those of you who suffer from celiac disease or who have beaten the addiction to gluten, I have an iron stomach and I’m a self-proclaimed carb addict, so I’m a glutton for gluten in my pizza.  But it’s good to know that there are gluten free options for those of you who need or want it. 

Although our server was extremely nervous and every time we asked her a question, I think she wet her pants a little, we did ask for a pizza recommendation.  She told us that her personal favorite and their most popular pizza was a thin crust “super six”, featuring sausage, cheese, green pepper, mushroom, and ham.  And although this princess does not particularly enjoy ham, we went for it. 

Food Wait Time:  We got so engrossed in playing with the Trivial Pursuit cards (I pretty much rock at trivia, by the way) that we forgot to time the pizza.  It seemed to arrive relatively quickly, but time flies when you are kicking butt at 1980’s Trivial Pursuit. 

Drumroll, Please . . . The Pizza Itself:  I later learned that Aurelio’s allegedly makes a mean stuffed crust pizza.  Since I didn’t order it, I can only review the pizza I ate, and sadly, like the surrounding strip mall, there really wasn’t much about this pizza to make it newsworthy.  It was hot; it had fresh ingredients and the correct amount of cheese.  It was lighter than I like on sauce (the hubby wanted more cheese), and although it filled us up, it was just another pizza.  Better than Papa John’s, not as good as Latuff’s, Red Savoy, or Italian Pie Shoppe.   It wasn’t the kind of pizza of future pig-out fantasies.

I’m willing to admit that my lackluster dining experience may be due to poor ordering.  I should have consulted my friend for more detailed information prior to my visit.  If you’ve been to Aurelio’s and been amazed – please let me know and tell me what you ordered so I can make sure I have a do-over.

 

Price & Value:  A trip to Aurelio’s won’t break the bank – a pleasant surprise after the pig ate my wallet.  Total bill – including tip – for a large specialty pizza was just under $35.  (We also ordered an appetizer which is why the old-school bill pictured here looks higher.  I did leave 20%.  I'm not a horrible person.)

Waiting for the Check: Nope.  It was fast and efficient.  Our server didn’t have much else to do.

Post-Pizza Mood:  Maybe it was a side effect from traveling in the time machine; maybe it was our lousy moods from recent life events; or maybe it was simply a lackluster experience in a lackluster suburban strip mall, but we felt pretty ambivalent when we left.  Each of us listed our post-pizza moods at about a 5.5.

Bottom Line:  High marks for the parking situation and the Trivial Pursuit.  I’m willing to admit that I may have been steered wrong on the menu, but based on what I ate, I can’t in good conscience encourage anyone to make a special trip to Roseville for this pizza.  Of course, if you’re getting a perm, buying a vacuum, or getting a chiropractic adjustment and find yourself hankering for a snack – Aurelio’s will fill you up at a decent price.  Just don’t expect to have your socks knocked off.