Week 23: Jakeeno's Pizza (South Minneapolis - Powderhorn Park)

I am woefully tardy in writing up the review for our 23^rd consecutive pizza destination.  I’d like to blame it on the rush of the Christmas holidays and the year-end wrap up activities, but the truth is far more sinister.  The truth is that all this pizza is making me fat!

As you’ve probably realized by this time, I have a love affair going on with food, and the more decadent it is, the more I love it.  I’ve never met a cake, pie, cookie, cheeseburger, plate of nachos, or pizza that I haven’t liked.  I don’t love them all, but I would never turn my back (or my mouth) on a snack.  In real life, this translates to an ongoing battle with my weight that’s been going on since at least 1986, which is the first (but not last) time I went on a diet.

Years of fad diets, unhealthy eating habits, and pathological laziness have wreaked havoc on my metabolism, which frankly, didn’t need any further encouragement to operate at a slow pace.  Combine that with being middle-aged and female, and what you get is a gal who invests in a lot of Spanx.  (If you are unfamiliar with Spanx, allow me to explain.  Spanx is brand of so-called “shapewear” and according to  Señor Steve on the interwebs, they are “really tight slips or biker shorts that fat chicks wear under their clothes so they don’t get rolls.”  Would you like to know what Señor Steve really thinks?  “It’s nasty if you ask me.”  Listen up, Señor.  Dudes in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, especially at girls wearing compression garments because we will cut you.)

My Secret Santa at the office didn’t help matters.  She kept leaving giant, two pound bags of M&Ms on my desk.  In lieu of actually eating lunch, I was mainlining M&Ms while sitting on my ample backside doing my cubicle jockey job.  Between the M&Ms, the pizza, and my deep love of wine and doughnuts (yes, they do complement each other nicely), things got out of hand.  Technically speaking, I was having trouble squeezing into my Spanx.  And as any chubby gal can attest to, when you can’t squeeze into your Spanx, you can forget about getting your pants buttoned. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures, dear readers.  I had three choices.  I could stop wearing pants (socially and professionally unacceptable); invest in larger pants (expensive and time consuming due to my impressive 34” inseam); or lose some weight.  I chose option three, investigated various diet options, and coerced my hubby to embark on the DASH diet with me.  After some formal (I read two books) and informal (a quick search of my Facebook friends to see if anyone had heard of this thing) research, I declared December 26^th as “DASH Diet Day” in our household. 

The DASH diet was originally developed as an eating style to help lower blood pressure.  It emphasizes eating real foods, particularly a lot of fruits and vegetables, balanced with lean protein.  And, like any good diet, you are encouraged to participate in an “induction” phase whereby you limit carbohydrates, including grains and fruits, and eat several small meals throughout the day.  Sugar and alcohol are strictly forbidden in this phase, as are pretty much anything delicious.  Needless to say, pizza is strictly forbidden.

Since starting the DASH diet, my hubby and I have been vying for the seat of Mayor of Crankytown.  Last night, he declared himself the governor while I mumbled something about knocking over a Dunkin Donuts.  Five days without wine and M&Ms is taking its toll on our heroine.  And my hubby isn’t holding up much better.  Not only has this DASH diet taken a toll on our moods (and possibly, our marriage), but it also required us to put our pizza eating on a short hiatus.  And, since I couldn’t eat pizza, the very idea of sitting around and thinking about pizzas I’ve already eaten (and pizzas that led me to this uncomfortable weight in the first place) was simply more than I could bear.  That, dear readers, is why it’s taken so damn long for me to tell you about the pizza we enjoyed on our 23^rd consecutive week of pizza consumption.

Week 23 brought us back to the Powderhorn Park neighborhood of South Minneapolis.  For those keeping score, I am a former resident of this neighborhood and I have many fond memories of living in the ‘hood, so I tend to wax a little nostalgic when we visit Powderhorn Park.  And, in case you haven’t connected the dots yet, during our courting period, my hubby and I went out on several pizza dates – including a date night at Jakeeno’s Pizza and Pasta.

Jakeeno’s currently has two South Minneapolis locations; their flagship (and original) pizzeria located on Chicago Avenue South and a newer location called Jakeeno’s Trattoria in the Midtown Global Market.  We visited the original, Jakeeno’s Pizza and Pasta, which has been family owned and operated since 1975.

Pre-Pizza Moods:  We managed to stave off our hunger until a more reasonable dinner hour and headed out to Jakeeno’s around 6:30 PM on a cool and pleasant December evening.  A light dusting of snow fell from the sky, making everything look clean and fresh; Christmas lights were hung on homes and businesses; and there something festive in the air.  We fondly recalled our first (and only previous) visit to Jakeeno’s and our mouths watered at the thought of their delicious thin crust pizza.  Thus, pre-pizza moods were strong, with both of us clocking in at a solid 7.5.

Parking Situation and Exterior Appearance:  Jakeeno’s Pizza and Pasta isn’t much to look at from the outside.  Situated on the corner of 36^th Street and Chicago Avenue, you may notice it if you’re stuck at the stoplight but in general, it’s the kind of place that you might not look at twice unless, of course, you’re planning to stop in for a pizza.

I think I mentioned that it was snowing out.  This is important because learning the parking rules in Minneapolis during a snow emergency is on par with learning to speak a foreign language.  Snow emergency regulations are complicated and just as soon as you think you’ve figured them out, suddenly your car gets towed.  We did spy a small parking lot on Chicago Avenue and pulled in.  Ominous signs informed us that these spots were “reserved” but it was unclear for whom.  We decided that meant it was okay for us to park there, and later confirmed with our server that we were in the right place.

A few words about the parking lot, if I may.  It’s petite.  If you, like me, are parking challenged and wont to smash into things (fences, poles, dumpsters, other cars, etc), please make alternate arrangements to dine at Jakeeno’s or alert your auto insurance agent in advance.

Entrance/Welcome:  There is no worse feeling than stumbling into a restaurant for the first time and not knowing what to do.  Should you wait to be seated?  Seat yourself?  Stand there awkwardly waiting for someone to tell you what to do?  Flee the scene immediately? 

Thus, I appreciated Jakeeno’s simple and clear instructions:

Clientele/Overall Vibe: If you are currently on the lam, Jakeeno’s is not the place for you. When they’re not patronizing doughnut shops, Minneapolis cops apparently enjoy Jakeeno’s Pizza and Pasta, and there was a table of 3^rd Precinct police officers there during our visit.  We tried to snap a photo without being too obvious . . .

Besides the table of cops, there were young, old, hipsters, families with small children, and people on dates.  Jakeeno’s draws a diverse crowd but the overall vibe remains relaxed and calm.  I suspect the police presence has something to do with that.

Beyond the police presence, Jakeeno’s has a warm, intimate feeling inside.  It’s quaint with candles on each table and it feels like the kind of place where you might have a romantic evening with someone special. 

Wait Staff: Our waiter was awesome!  He was pretty much serving the entire dining room, playing bartender, and manning the phones so we didn’t see as much of him as we would have liked, but he was really engaging, fun to talk to, and helpful. Most importantly, he magically reappeared every time a glass needed refilling so no one was parched, which is a plus.

  

Menu Selection:  Jakeeno’s menu offers a variety of pizza and pasta options.  You choose from a traditional red sauce or olive oil/garlic sauce on a thin crust pizza of 10”, 13”, or 15”.  Gluten-free pizza options are offered with an important caveat; “As we are a flour-filled environment, please remember that we cannot guarantee a 100% gluten-free meal.”  (Points for honesty).  In addition to the traditional, “design your own” pie, Jakeeno’s offers over ten specialty pizzas.  We opted for the “Chicago Super” based on our server’s endorsement and our personal preferences.  This 15 inch thin crust specialty pizza features sausage, mushroom, green and ripe olives; onions, and green peppers.

If you’re a vegan, be not afraid.  Jakeeno’s has vegan soy cheese available.  Or, if you’re in the mood for pasta, they also have a wide selection of pasta selections available.

Food Wait Time: Our pizza arrived in just over 30 minutes.  Average.

Drumroll, Please . . . the Pizza Itself:  Jakeeno’s did not disappoint.  Their thin crust pizza is appropriately crispy; does not taste like an old saltine cracker/stale communion wafer; and is not soggy or dripping with grease.  The toppings were fresh and plentiful with an appropriate ratio of cheese and tangy sauce. 

They offer an excellent selection of craft beer and wine, which I most certainly enjoyed, and their pizza is as good as Broadway Station, Latuff’s, and Red Savoy.  In my opinion, Jakeeno’s Pizza is better than Fireside; Carbone's; Joey Nova’s; and Michelangelo’s Masterpizzas. (I’ll get my hubby’s opinion when he is back on carbs and less cranky.) 

Price & Value: Prices are a little higher at Jakeeno’s than some of the other pizza joints we’ve patronized.  Our large Chicago Special ran us $22, and with my adult beverages and my hubby’s iced tea and tip, our bill was $45. 

Post-Pizza Mood:  We left Jakeeno’s feeling satisfied with full bellies and full hearts.  Post pizza moods were at a solid 9 for each of us.

Bottom Line:  This is pizza worth visiting South Minneapolis for.  Seriously.  If you are lucky enough to live in the Powderhorn Park neighborhood, Jakeeno’s will deliver to your doorstep.  If you’re like the rest of us, you’ll have to make the trip.  Yes – a pizza dinner and drinks will run you about $50 (if you are a generous tipper and why wouldn’t you be?), but I guarantee you won’t be disappointed with Jakeeno’s!

Week 22: Michelangelo's Masterpizzas (Southwest Minneapolis)

Our 22^nd consecutive week of pizza consumption was ill-fated from the get go.  And that’s putting it mildly.  In hindsight, it’s obvious that I woke up on the proverbial wrong side of the bed.  Since I actually wake up on the same side of the bed every day – often clinging to the very edge of my allotted sleeping real estate because the dog has invaded my space – I became curious about the origin of this idiom.  In case it’s not part of your everyday vernacular, getting up on the wrong side of the bed means to start one’s day in a “less than sunny mood”.  A very lazy Google search on the origin of this idiom taught me that it stems from Roman times, when it was considered bad luck to exit one’s bed on the left side.  Hence, if you exited your bed on the left side, your day was fated to suck. 

This left me with more questions than answers, however.  How do you determine the left side of the bed?  Is it the left side as you lie in bed or the left side as you look at the bed from the doorway?  Obviously, this led to a secondary (and equally lazy) Google search, where I discovered that I’m not alone in my confusion on this issue and where absolutely no light was shed on the answer.  I casually approached my hubby and inquired which side of the bed I sleep on, to which he immediately answered, “The left!”  Is it any wonder I’m the Mayor of Crankytown, for God’s sakes?  I get up on the wrong side of the bed every single day. 

On our 22^nd week of pizza consumption, I hopped out of the wrong side of the bed, donned my pointy hat, and hopped on my broomstick.  No amount of designer coffee, reality television, or Candy Crush Saga could shake my foul mood – and I was determined to crash the mood elevator of everyone who had the grave misfortune of crossing my path.  Unfortunately for my hubby, he was the obvious first victim, and by the time we left for pizza, we were a pair of crankypants.

Our pizza eating calendar had us headed to Lake Harriet Pizza, recommended by my friend, Jean.  As a rare coincidence, our anti-social asses had also been invited to a social gathering later in the evening in the same neighborhood, so we tentatively planned to eat garlic and onions prior to the party.  (Kind of makes you want to add us to your guest list, huh?)

Pre-Pizza Moods: If you’ve kept up with our pizza adventures, you know that we typically measure our moods on a 1-10 scale.  Compared to previous weeks, I would say that my pre-pizza mood was hovering right around -436.  My hubby was at about -3. 

In spite of our moods, we left the house for Lake Harriet Pizza around 6 PM.  But because we were so incredibly foul, neither of us bothered to do any pre-pizza research – a fact that would come to bite us in our collective backsides.  It was a cold, snowy night and when we reached Lake Harriet Pizza, we quickly realized that this was the kind of place that would require us to park about a block away and walk.  We were so distracted by trying to navigate the parking situation that we failed to notice that Lake Harriet Pizza is a takeout/delivery joint only. 

Since our pizza experiment is predicated on a dine-in experience, we were thrown for a loop.  Since we were already so delightful, you can imagine the impact that this discovery had on our moods.  We quickly rallied, however, remembering that we’d passed a pizzeria nearby and making an executive decision to give the neighboring Michelangelo’s Masterpizzas a try.

Parking Situation and Exterior Appearance:  Michelangelo’s Masterpizzas describes itself as a neighborhood Italian restaurant in Southwest Minneapolis, offering dine-in, carryout, or delivery.  Located in a sweet, quaint storefront, Michelangelo’s looks like a welcoming, warm place to escape the wind-chill and enjoy a pizza.

The parking situation is typical of a southwest Minneapolis establishment.  It’s every car for themselves on the street.  If you can’t parallel park, be prepared to walk.   We lucked out and found a spot nearby that didn’t require parallel parking, but I remember thinking that I would probably smash and crash my car if I were to park there myself. 

Entrance/Welcome: Upon entry, a few things were suddenly very clear to us.  First off, this joint’s name is longer than its total restaurant square footage.  Secondly, chaos seemed to rule in the dining room.  There were three people working at Michelangelo’s the night we visited.  The cook was the host, receptionist and waiter.  Our server was also the prep cook and dishwasher. 

A number of people came in to pick up takeout orders that appeared to have been misplaced, and they were forced to stand around awkwardly waiting.  One guy waited for his takeout order for almost the entire duration of our visit. 

Needless to say, there was not a warm welcome when we entered Michelangelo’s, and we were left to figure out what to do ourselves.  We sat ourselves at a table of dubious cleanliness and waited for someone to acknowledge us or provide a menu.  We were in for a long wait.

Clientele/Overall Vibe: Michelangelo’s only has the capacity to seat about 25 diners.  There were two other tables visiting while we were there, and it was clear that they were frequent fliers.  A few things of note: if you like to enjoy an adult beverage with your pizza pie, you’re welcome to bring your own bottle to Michelangelo’s.  In fact, you’re more than welcome to – you’ll have to BYOB if you want a drink.

And although Michelangelo’s looks warm and sunny, when we removed our coats, we could not help but notice a cool breeze blowing through the restaurant.  It was so cold, in fact, that I put both my coat and gloves back on while we waited.

Wait Staff: Our server was very nice when she wasn’t doing her other jobs.  Another server – a boisterous, wanna-be comedian / out of work actor took care of the other tables.  Given my ill humor, I found him to be particular irritating and idly wondered if poking him with a fork would shut him up.  Newsflash: no one is going to “discover” you at Michelangelo’s.  And with 10,000 comedians out of work, perhaps you should stick to something you’re more suited to.

Menu Selection: Like any good pizzeria, Michelangelo’s offers “build your own” pizza options as well as specialty pizzas.  You can choose your own crust; thin, hand tossed, or deep dish.  The menu advises that a deep dish will take 40 minutes, which we had to veto due to fears of developing frostbite while sitting in the restaurant waiting. 

We ordered a thin crust “Horner’s Special” which is their version of an everything pizza, topped with Italian sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, green peppers, red onions, green olives and celery, with both cheddar and mozzarella cheese.

Food Wait Time: While we waited for our pizza, my hubby visited the bathroom – conveniently located through the kitchen.  It was such an experience that he snapped a photo.  Suffice to say, like the rest of Michelangelo’s, it was petite.

The food wait time felt extraordinarily long.  Maybe it was because I could see my breath; maybe it was because I was in a homicidal mood; or maybe it’s the fact that it took over 30 minutes to get the food to our table.  No amount of playing with my phone or using the complimentary crayons to draw pictures on my placemat could distract me from the fact that I was hungry, I was cold, I was damn tired of waiting, and I wanted to punch that other sever in the throat.

Drumroll, please . . . the food itself:  Since we were such a pair of crankypants, we were predisposed to be pissy about everything.  Thus, when I tell you that our Horner’s Special was, in fact, a masterpizza worthy of the name, you should take me seriously.  It was a good pizza.  

The crust? Crispy, tasty, and delicious.  The toppings?  Fresh.  The sauce?  Appropriately saucy.  The cheeses were a delightful surprise.  Who knew that cheddar and mozzarella would blend so nicely?  It was an appropriate ratio of cheese, so there was no risk of cheese coagulating in my throat and choking me.   I can’t give the pizza an A but that’s only because of all the previously mentioned extenuating factors, my hypothermia high on the list.

Price & Value: A 16 inch thin crust pizza is just under $20.  Our total bill – including beverages – was $22, which is definitely a bargain.

Post-Pizza Mood: We were full (!) and the pizza was surprisingly delicious.  Unfortunately, no one’s mood was significantly improved.

Bottom Line: If you live in Southwest Minneapolis and want to patronize a local pizzeria, you can do worse than Michelangelo’s Masterpizzas.  However, I’d recommend that you wait until spring or summer to visit or you’ll freeze your butt off.  

If you can’t wait that long, you can always try takeout, but based on the confused and frustrated looks on the faces of the people attempting to pick up their pizzas to take home when we visited, I’m not sure this will be a wholly pleasant experience either. 

Experience aside, the pizza is tasty and worth a try.  But I’d recommend visiting on a day when you’re not vying for the mayorship of Crankytown.

Week 21: Carbone's Pizza (S. Minneapolis)

While you were busy eating turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie; decorating your dining room table with homemade cornucopia centerpieces; and polishing your Pilgrim shoes and hat for Thanksgiving 2013, your favorite pizza eating couple took a nontraditional approach to our annual day of gratitude this year. Instead of spending Thanksgiving with our families, we spent it with 80,000 football fans at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, TX. 

If you’ve met me, you know that I am not athletic.  Or graceful.  Or a sports fan of any kind.  In fact, I refuse to participate in or watch any activity where I don’t like the costume.  Swimming and volleyball – I’m talking to you.  Of all the sports that exist, football is one I have never really understood nor enjoyed.  The costumes are unattractive; the ball is thrown and carried more than it is kicked, making the name of the sport questionable; and forgive me for this gross stereotype but I’ve noticed that football players are frequently arrested for murdering their ex-wives (OJ Simpson); drunk driving (Aldon Smith, Jerome Simpson, Erin Henderson, Spencer Havner etc etc etc); domestic abuse; and dog fighting (Michael Vick).  And I’m not making this stuff up.  According to an article in Uptown Magazine, 21 NFL teams carried at least one player with domestic assault or violence charges on their rosters during the 2012 season. 

Although I like the seedy, criminal element as much as the next person, I just can’t work up much enthusiasm or interest for football.  In fairness, I haven’t given it much of a chance and I really don’t even understand how the game is played or how they decide who wins.  Because I don’t care.  My hubby, on the other hand, is a fan.  In fact, he is often heard making dramatic statements such as, “All I want for Thanksgiving is my grandma’s mashed potatoes and for the Dallas Cowboys to win.”  So it only made sense that when given the opportunity to make half his dreams come true (awesome as I am, even I can’t reproduce a dead woman’s potatoes) and make a sizeable donation to charity, I did just that.  And off we went to Dallas for a football filled Thanksgiving.

“Who the hell cares,” you ask?  Well, you do.  Because while you ingested a 4,500 calorie feast, I clocked 30 minutes on the elliptical, ate some nachos, and saved up my leftover calories for pizza night, which took place right on schedule, and we returned from Dallas in order to head to south Minneapolis for our 21^st consecutive week of pizza consumption at Carbone’s Pizzeria on Cedar Avenue.

Pre-Pizza Moods: Our pre-pizza moods were generally good.  My hubby was on a football high and I was happy to be reunited with my bed, my pillow, and my dog.  Pre-pizza moods for both of us hovered around a 7.

Carbone’s is actually a large franchise operation with 37 pizzeria joints across Minnesota and Wisconsin, with one lonely franchisee all by itself in Billings, Montana.  If you live in the Twin Cities, chances are, there’s a Carbone’s in your neighborhood – unless you live in Plymouth, Maple Grove, Golden Valley, Hopkins, Minnetonka, or Eden Prairie.  But seriously, there are 32 Carbone’s locations in MN alone and so there just might be one in your ‘hood.  According to their website, Carbone’s began as a humble Italian grocery on St. Paul’s east side that served as a bar (and during prohibition, as a confection shop).  Following the death of patriarch Alfonso Carbone in 1954, his sons Frankie and Marco and his widow Antoinette opened St. Paul’s original Carbone’s pizzeria. 

I’m still not 100% sure why we decided to dine at the Carbone’s on Cedar Avenue in Minneapolis, since it is not the original location, but in my defense, when Carbone’s was recommended to me by my friend Keith, I didn’t know there were 37 locations to choose from and he didn’t specify – and I remembered that I used to live near a Carbone’s in South Minneapolis so that’s how week 21 came to be. 

Parking Situation & Exterior Appearance: If you handed a child a bunch of rectangular, gray legos and asked him to build an unfortunate strip mall, you’d probably get the boxy and somewhat desperate aesthetics of Carbone’s, which anchors a sad little retail corner with a tiny wine shop (cleverly called Cork Dork, which I also checked out while in da hood and loved it!)  and Toby’s Styling Shop which is probably where the neighborhood’s elderly gals go to get their blue-rinses and perms.    All three establishments feature blue awnings, probably in an effort to make them look less like East Berlin before the wall came down. 

The parking lot itself, however, was perfectly acceptable.  Although small, there are plenty of parking spots for the clientele of these three unique establishments, and the lot is designed with a minimal amount of parking hazards for those of us inclined to crash and smash innocent inanimate objects.

Entrance/Welcome:  Ever walked into a nursing home cafeteria?  Although I didn’t spy anyone playing bingo or stockpiling Cheerios – a frequent sight at Catholic Eldercare, the nursing home where my Grandma Mary spent her final days – the sights and sounds of Carbone’s conjured up more images of “involuntary commitment” than “romantic date night”. 

We walked in and were told to seat ourselves, so we did.  There is ample space to meander between the booths and tables at Carbone’s – I would venture to say that their design is fully compliant with current ADA building codes – and we found ourselves a nice, wide booth.

Clientele/Overall Vibe:  Carbone’s does a brisk takeout/delivery business.  Those who choose to dine in are few and far between . . . and in keeping with the nursing home décor, the average patron was an AARP card carrying senior citizen.

Wait Staff: Our sever was delightful.  And I’m not just saying that because after asking to see my ID after I ordered a beer, she felt compelled to tell me that I don’t look a day over 30.  Although it didn’t hurt, either. 

In other news, she was a voice double for the transvestite prostitute from Hangover 2.  You can imagine the fun we had with that . . . .

Menu Selection: Carbone’s allows you to build your own pizza or you can choose from their specialty pizza selection. We were sorely tempted to order the taco pizza but decided to stay true to our pizza blogging roots and went with the special.  Carbone’s also allows you to choose your crust depth  They offer thin crust, thick crust, deep dish, and even gluten free crust options.  And the menu is laminated so they can just rinse it off and reuse it.  

  

Food Wait Time: I forgot to time it.  But it seemed about average.  Scientific, I know.

Drumroll, Please . . . The Pizza Itself:  Carbone’s thin crust pizza is their claim to fame, so we ordered a thin crust house special, which features sausage, pepperoni, green pepper, and onions.  Like our week 20 destination, Fireside Pizza, our pizza was again served on a round cardboard base. 

Carbone’s did not disappoint.  Their thin crust pizza was awfully delicious.  The crust reminded me of neither communion wafers nor saltine crackers.  Instead, it was pure crispy awesomeness.  The sauce was tangy and the toppings were fresh and tasty.

It wasn’t the best thin crust pizza I’ve ever enjoyed, but Carbone’s is definitely a contender for the top ten thin crusts we’ve enjoyed. 

Price & Value: The price is right.  A large pizza, iced tea for the hubby and a nice Stella Artois for me ran us just under $30.  Of course, I had to leave a big tip for our server because telling me I look 10 years younger than I am will always get you a big tip.  And that’s my tip for you. 

Post-Pizza Mood: We were in good moods when we arrived and each of us left at about an 8.  Can’t ask for much more than that.  Of course, I had a strange urge to go play bingo and ride around in a wheelchair, but that was probably due to the décor. 

Bottom Line:  If you’re a fan of Broadway Pizza, Tasty Pizza, or Latuff’s, I think you’ll enjoy a trip to Carbone’s.  In fact, I’m confident that you will.  And don’t forget to build in time to play bingo afterwards!

Week 20: Fireside Pizza (Richfield, MN)

I traveled almost 1,000 miles for our 20^th consecutive week of pizza consumption.  I’d been away on business for almost a week, completing an important but not particularly pleasant task, and it was one of those weeks where anything that could go wrong did.  Between mainlining Linsinopril (every princess’ choice to treat hypertension) in an effort to thwart certain stress-induced heart failure / stroke; shouting out colorful words and phrases that often included words that rhyme with duck and pucker; and wondering if I’d inadvertently broken a mirror recently, my business trip was hardly uneventful.  It was, however, exhausting.  After white-knuckling it about 20 miles to the airport through rush hour traffic, in the rain, in a rental car best suited to a member of the Golden Girls’, I battled the longest airport security line I’ve ever seen, growing increasingly anxious about missing my flight home. 

Thankfully, the good people at US Airways sensed my anxiety, and after finally making it through security, redressing myself, and jogging through the terminal, I learned that my flight was not only departing from a completely different (translation: much further away) gate, but that it was departing at least an hour late.   I sat in the gate area, sweaty and exhausted, and found that my fellow travelers were even more annoying than normal.  From the guy sitting next to me with the runny nose who clearly needed a Kleenex to the gal a few seats away with the dry, hacking cough who would have benefited from a lozenge to the weird guy who kept staring at me while I grew increasingly antsy, I wanted to bathe myself in Purell and put a bag over my head.  

When I finally boarded, I crammed my bag underneath the seat in front of me, folded myself up like Gumby, and realized I left my iPod shuffle in my hotel room.  Seated to my right was the gal in need of a throat lozenge.  Behind me, an unhappy infant.  And in front of me, a minister and his wife and the world’s most obnoxious drunk guy.  My preflight mood was beyond Mayor of Crankytown.  I was president.  Without my iPod to drown out the sounds of my fellow traveler, I was forced to listen to drunk dude pick a fight about Jesus, religion, and politics with the minister next to him.  At top volume.  The poor pastor was innocently trying to read his Holy Bible when drunk dude decided to tell him exactly where he’d like Jesus Christ to go, citing many examples and using lots of circular and flawed logic.  When the flight attendant served him a Jack Daniels, I cringed.  When I realized the sound of his voice was preventing me from taking a nap, I felt rage.  At one point, I considered breaking the window and leaping to my freedom.  Instead, I sat, seething, and eventually, the plane landed at MSP and I ran to freedom.  Actually, I ran to baggage claim, where I waited an inordinately long time for my damn suitcase and eventually, I was reunited with my hubby and headed home.

After a quick stop at McDonald’s (I was starving) for an artery clogging McMeal, I finally returned home, donned my jammies, and got into my bed, where I remained for the next 19 hours.  Under normal circumstances, my hubby would have forced me from my sleep chamber and demanded pizza, but an out-of-town funeral had him on the road, and we agreed to postpone our pizza date to Sunday night.

Rested but still feeling an underlying sense of doom, we hopped in the car Sunday evening and headed 12 miles south and east to Richfield, MN to dine at Storm’s Fireside Pizza, recommended by two of my friends who are former Minnesotans now dwelling elsewhere in the US.

Pre-Pizza Moods:  The very act of getting dressed and leaving the house was more than I was ready to tackle.  I had this low-grade level of anxiety and gloom and doom that I just couldn’t shake.  My pre-pizza mood was hovering around a 3.

My hubby spends his Sundays watching football and screaming at the TV.  Our pizza date interfered with his ability to watch whatever game was currently capturing his attention, so his pre-pizza mood was about a 5.

Parking Situation & Exterior Appearance: Fireside Pizza is located in Richfield, MN, just minutes from the 494/Penn Ave intersection. Richfield is an inner-ring suburb of Minneapolis-St. Paul, bordered by Minneapolis to the north, Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport to the east, Bloomington to the south, and Edina to the west.  The city boasts seven square miles and 35,000 residents, whose median age is 36.2 years and whose median household income is $45,519.  There are over 40 restaurants in Richfield, ranging from old neighborhood staples like Fireside Pizza to brand new places like our week 13 destination, Pizza Luce. 

Fireside Pizza is located in a small square-shaped building, sandwiched between Penn Auto Care and a gas station.  A small patio with outdoor seating is available in warmer months – photos on their Facebook page make it look very welcoming with umbrellas and patio tables – but in the colder months, the outside of this building isn’t much to look at.

The parking situation is okay.  Fireside Pizza shares their lot with the gas station next door and the parking lot is small, but we had no problem finding a spot.

Entrance/Welcome: Walking into Fireside Pizza is an assault on your senses.  If you're anything like me, you won’t be able to figure out what to look at first.  Your eyes will dart from the giant tree in the middle of the restaurant to the booths with curtains for romance to the sports memorabilia to the giant cardboard cut-out of some dude peddling Dos Equis beer to the many flat screen televisions broadcasting sports.  I did not notice a fire or hearth, but again, I may have been distracted.  You’ll smell garlic, pizza, and cleaning supplies.  You’ll hear the sounds of the kitchen and the din of other diners.  And eventually, your eyes will focus in the dim lighting and someone will greet you and offer to seat you.  Our hostess graciously agreed to seat us someplace where my hubby could watch football.

Clientele/Overall Vibe: Fireside is a place that caters to locals.  They obviously haven’t updated their décor since their grand opening in 1960 and they cater to Richfield residents as well as nostalgic couples who had their first date at Fireside back in the dark ages.  We were the youngest diners on site the night we visited.

Wait Staff: Our server was pleasant, keeping us in beverages and food.  She was definitely more engaged than week 19’s Breanna, but neither the best nor the worst pizzeria server I’ve encountered.

Menu Selection: Fireside Pizza offers a variety of specialty thin crust pizzas, and like any good pizzeria, you can also make your own.  Not in the mood for pizza?  What’s the matter with you?  But in the event that pizza’s not your thing, you can also order pasta, calzones, salad, or sandwiches here as well. Fireside now also offers breakfast, served Saturdays and Sundays from 8 AM – 2 PM with both traditional breakfast items and even a breakfast pizza!

We ordered something called the Pizza Delight, a Fireside favorite that features Italian sausage, fresh green peppers, and mushrooms.

Food Wait Time: Our pizza arrived in less than 30 minutes, piping hot and served, interestingly, on a cardboard placemat – similar to what happens when you pop a frozen Red Baron pizza in the oven at home. 

Drumroll, Please . . . the Pizza Itself: Fireside Pizza claims to have the “best thin and hand-tossed pizza in the Twin Cities”.  I read it on the internet so it must be true.  As previously mentioned, the pizza is served to you on a round cardboard base, all the better to soak up the grease, I guess.  Since thin crust is their claim to fame, my expectations were high.  The crust was thin and crispy, yes – but it had that slight saltine cracker taste that I first encountered at Aurelio’s and then again at Sammy’s.   

The toppings were fresh and plentiful, and the sauce was both tangy and sweet.  The Italian sausage was a little on the salty side - which, coming from the Princess of High Blood Pressure, is saying something.  Washed down with a nice, cold Blue Moon beer (or two), Fireside’s pizza filled my tummy and tasted pretty good. 

Was it the best thin crust pizza I’ve eaten?  Hell no.  But it certainly wasn’t the worst, either.  They are obviously trying to compete with places like Red Savoy, Tasty Pizza, and Latuff’s – all of whom serve a more delicious thin crust than Fireside.  In summary, Fireside served us a relatively decent yet unmemorable pizza served in a weirdly kitschy restaurant with a giant tree in the middle of it. 

Price & Value:  Much like the pizza, the price and value here are okay.  A large pizza, two beers, and iced tea for my hubby cost about $34 plus tip – about average cost for a pizza date night.  Maybe if I had a coupon, I would have felt more favorable about Fireside . . .  I did, however, appreciate the old school, handwritten guest check.  

Post-Pizza Mood: We left Fireside much the way we came.  We were full, we enjoyed each other’s company, but neither of us was ready to take on the world.  Two beers and a belly full of grease managed to help relax me and my post-pizza mood was about a 6.  Fireside gives you delicious peppermint taffy as a parting gift and its fresh and unexpected deliciousness helped improve my mood.  Plus, my hubby hates peppermint so I got both pieces which also helped propel me to a post-pizza 6.

My hubby enjoyed whatever was going on with that football game he was watching over my shoulder and enjoyed his pizza, leaving him at a post-pizza mood of 7.

Bottom Line: If you like Red Savoy, Broadway, Latuff’s, or Tasty Pizza . . . do not pass go.  Do not collect $200.  And do not waste your time visiting Fireside Pizza.  But if you live in Richfield, have a hankering to eat in a curtained booth with a big old tree, or love peppermint taffy – Fireside Pizza is the place for you.  And, if you happen to be looking for work, I noticed that they are now hiring for all positions, so you may want to stop in for an application.