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!