Our 22nd 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 22nd 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.
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