Week 25: Psycho Suzi's (Minneapolis, MN)

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a calendar publisher to recognize that I am woefully behind in documenting our journey of eating pizza every week.  There are lots of reasons for the delay between pizza consumption and blog posting – some which even fall into the category of “damn good excuse” and others which simply point out my fundamental weakness, which is I am an Olympic-level procrastinator.

As I sat down this morning to pen my review of our week 25 destination, Psycho Suzi’s, my Catholic guilt set in.  Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.  It has been four weeks since my last blog entry.  I accept whatever penance you see fit.  Of course, I should point out that only one reader has actually inquired about the status of the pizza blog – but out of respect for that one, lonely dear reader, I forced myself to crank up the ipod, hum a little Air Supply, and blog my little heart out.

Week 25 feels like a lifetime ago . . . and in many ways, it was.  We were entering a new calendar year, full of promise and resolutions to make this our best year ever.  The hubby and I made plans to drop those last ten pounds, get our collective hypertension under control, and be better human beings.  I vowed that 2014 would be the year I finally stop chewing my fingernails like a rabid termite.  We made well-intentioned to-do lists, we checked them twice, and we were off to a great start to the year.  

Life had other plans, though, and we hit our first hurdle of 2014 when my father-in-law and next-door-neighbor (this is the same person) had a heart attack in January.  For those that haven’t met Leo, he’s a 76 year old dude who never stops moving.  He gets more done by lunchtime than most people half his age.  Six weeks ago, he was still working as an electrician, shoveling his own snow, and driving most of us batty with his incessant storytelling.  He hadn’t taken so much as an aspirin in years and proudly boasted that he hadn’t seen a doctor in at least six years. 

When he was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, we were shocked.  (He was pissed.)  When we learned that he needed a triple bypass and valve repair, we were stunned.  And life as we knew it changed.  Suddenly, we were taking care of my hubby’s parents – driving them to appointments, making sure they had groceries, filling prescriptions, and trying to keep everyone in good spirits.  We were all scared and trying to pretend that it wasn’t at all strange to have our roles shifted overnight, where the kids are taking care of their parents.  I don’t think anyone can prepare you for when this day comes.  And for anyone who has met either my husband or my in-laws, I think you can imagine how stressful this experience was on everyone.

One might argue that hanging out at Methodist Hospital would have provided me ample opportunity to blog about pizza.  Well . . . I suck.  So there’s that.  But let me tell you about week 25.

As previously mentioned, the hubby and I set some ambitious goals for ourselves in the new year.  To jump start our weight loss, we decided to give the DASH diet a try.  The first phase of the DASH diet is a two week detoxification process, where you wean yourself off of all the delicious things that made your ass big in the first place, like carbs and sugar.  After two weeks of eating grilled chicken and salad – whereby my hubby lost nearly ten pounds and I lost 0.1 pounds – we were looking forward to our pizza date the way kids look forward to Christmas morning.

So . . . we got into the hubby’s expensive German automobile and headed to NE Minneapolis to Pyscho Suzi’s Motor Lounge. According to their website, “Psycho Suzi’s is many things – a hideout for shady characters, a rest stop on the way to oblivion, a destination for bachelorette parties and nefarious conspiracies alike.  But mostly it’s an updated tiki bar for a crass and cynical age . . . “ 

Pre-Pizza Moods:

Nary a carb had passed either of our lips in 14 days.  The very thought of pizza made us giddy with glee.  Pre-pizza moods hovered around a perfect ten.

Parking Situation and Exterior Appearance:

Oh, Psycho Suzi’s.  It’s not entirely your fault that your very address at 1900 Marshall Street NE in Minneapolis causes me to shudder every time I drive by.  It’s just the post-traumatic stress disorder kicking in.  You see, Suzi, I am old.  In fact, I’m so old that I remember when you were Gabby’s Saloon.  And since I am old enough to have committed the majority of my stupid activities before there were cell phones, Facebook, and Instagram, you’ll have to use your imagination to visualize the kind of stupid that haunts me nearly 20 years later.

Needless to say, I might be biased but this is one of the ugliest damn buildings I’ve ever seen.  It was ugly when it was Gabby’s and it ain’t much better now.  The parking situation is also horrendous.  Suzi’s has the capacity to hold a lot of tiki-drink loving pizza eaters, but they lack the parking infrastructure to accommodate them all.  The lot is every man, woman and child for themselves and the on-street parking isn’t much better.  You couldn’t pay me to attempt parking in this vicinity.

Ps. It still looks like Gabby’s to me from the outside.  Or an old VFW.  Just sayin’.

Entrance/Welcome:

Depending on what time of day you arrive, your greeting may be different.  During the day, you’ll be welcomed and directed to a place to sit and eat.  At night, you may be carded at the door and if it’s crowded, you’ll wait.  And wait. 

Clientele/Overall Vibe:

People of all ages love this place.  Apparently, pale-skinned, chubby Midwesterners are really into tiki bars.  Who knew?  You’ll see hardcore drinkers, hipster doofuses, locals, couples, babies, tattoo freaks, Republicans, and everything in between. The people watching here is AMAZING. 

In warm weather, Suzi’s also boats a huge riverfront patio, which is dog friendly (plus).  Since we only get about four nice days a year here, the patio is a raving hit with most patrons.  I’m less than enthralled since their riverfront overlooks what appears to be a garbage dump and a recycling plant, so it’s not exactly picturesque.  But maybe you’re not a stickler for aesthetics like I am.

Wait Staff:

To work at Suzi’s, you pretty much need to be a hipster.  The more piercings, tattoos, and ironic accessories you sport, the more you’ll fit in.  I’m not judging, mind you, simply pointing out that while it appears each member of the wait staff takes pride in their individual expression, they actually all kind of look the same to me.  Sorry, hipsters.  I can’t tell you apart.

Our server was exceptional.  She kept our drinks full, made menu recommendations, and didn’t mock us for licking the platter clean.

Menu Selection:

Psycho Suzi’s boasts of their “World Famous Minneapolis Pizza.”  Their pizza menu includes standard crust (hand stretched and baked on hot stones) and deep dish (cornmeal crust baked in a pan).  They have many specialty pizzas to choose from, or – if you’re feeling adventurous, you can design your own.  We decided on the Suzi Supreme after a consultation with our server.  The Suzi Supreme is made on their hand-stretched dough and features pepperoni, sausage, onion, green pepper, black olive, and cremini with house tomato sauce.

To be honest, we wanted to order one of everything but I couldn’t chance gaining back that 0.1 pound I worked so hard to shed on the DASH diet.

Food Wait Time:

When Suzi’s is busy, you’ll wait for your food.  We popped in on a lazy Sunday afternoon – a rare time when Suzi’s wasn’t wall-to-wall with patrons.  Total wait time was about 30 minutes.

Drumroll, please . . . the Pizza Itself:

Let me say this.  I’m not a fan of tiki bars.  They remind me of that old Brady Bunch episode (bad luck!).  I don’t like kitsch either, and I don’t need the walk down memory lane of being at the scene of the crime . . . I mean, where Gabby’s used to be.  Hence, I’m predisposed to be anti-Suzi.  And yet . . . I’m a fan.  Why?  Because their pizza is that good.  The sauce is subtle, the toppings are fresh, and the cheese doesn’t strangle my throat.  After two weeks on the DASH diet, I nearly went blind with ecstasy when I bit into this pizza.

If you can put up with the kitsch, the theme, a patio that overlooks a garbage dump, the parking situation, the slow service, and the wall-to-wall people here . . . the pizza is worth it.

Price and Value:

Suzi ain’t a cheap date.  You’ll pay a premium for the pizza here.  A large pizza and drinks will run you close to $50.  But the PTSD?  That comes free.

Post Pizza Mood:

We broke the fast.  We ate real food.  Carbs and fat coursed through our veins.  Screw the DASH diet!  Tens for everyone!

Bottom Line:

I know a lot of people love this place, and I respect that.  It’s been featured on Diners and Dives and it’s a place to see and been seen.  I’m lukewarm on Suzi for all the reasons listed above.  I do like the pizza, but I’m not sure it’s worth the price, the hassle, or the unwanted walk down the memory lane of shame.

That’s my vote.  If you love a riverfront patio; if you’re a tiki connoisseur; or if you live nearby and don’t have to park to visit Suzi’s, this might be your favorite place on earth.  And I respect that.  Peter Brady and I will meet you later at Broadway Station.  

Week 24: Galactic Pizza (Uptown/Minneapolis)

Although I often behave like a cranky old man, I don’t live underneath a rock.  I watch TV.  I cyberstalk people I knew in 3^rd grade on social media.  I talk to people.  And sometimes, I even leave the house.  Unfortunately, leaving the house often serves as a method of proving my various hypotheses about the human race, such as:

1. There are a whole bunch of people who believe that cell phones provide a cloak of invisibility.  Either that or they just don’t really care that I have a front row seat to a graphic description of what they found in Junior’s diaper.  Newsflash: not only can I see you, I can hear you.  And I really, really, really want you to STFU.
2. Turn signals are an optional feature on several types of cars, many of them very expensive luxury cars.  I find this perplexing, because although my trusty Honda Civic didn’t come with a lot of bells and whistles off the factory floor, it was equipped with turn signals as a standard option.  As a demonstration of my gratitude, I use them every time I intend to turn the car and also to indicate my desire to change lanes.  BMW guy, I’m sorry that for $40 grand plus, all you got was a lease you can’t afford, a bad attitude, and no turn signals anywhere in sight.  Maybe that explains your super-sucky driving.
3. Even though we all pay the same price to belong to this “fitness club”, the rules about using cardio equipment for 20 minutes maximum don’t apply to everyone.  These are the same people who also have an ambivalent attitude about cleaning up after themselves.  Please – after you’ve sweated up that treadmill for the past 90 minutes, just walk away.  I would love the opportunity to marinate in your sweat. 
4. Tossing your lit cigarette butts and/or McDonald’s happy meal remains out your car window is just as good as finding a trash receptacle or ashtray.  I, for one, love it when a lit cigarette bounces off my windshield at 55 miles an hour almost as much as I love finding other people’s garbage in my front yard. 

Obviously, I could go on and on and on and on – but unlike the people referenced in my examples above, I can take a hint, and I can feel you getting impatient waiting for me to make a point.  Well, here it is.  Our 24^th week of pizza consumption was leading us back to my least favorite neighborhood in Minneapolis – uptown. I rather poetically described my disdain for this vibrant area in week 16, so I won’t belabor the point except to remind you that I have a real problem with hipster doofuses.  Our week 24 pizza destination, Galactic Pizza, appeared to be the zenith of hipster doofusdum.  In fact, my friend Jon recommended a trip to Galactic not because he thought the pizza would change my life but because he was pretty darned sure that my head would explode in a spectacular show of intolerance.

Because I don’t live under a rock, I had a vague awareness of Galactic Pizza.  I’d seen their delivery drivers dressed up as superheroes, zipping around uptown in electric cars.  Pizza delivered by a guy in pink tights, a cape, and Doc Martens?  Sure.  There’s nothing weird about that at all.  (See photo below from Citypages)

Pre-Pizza Moods:

Since I was pretty convinced that week 24 would be an adventure, I decided to take the opportunity to change up the participation as well.  Normally, pizza night is a special date night for my hubby and me.  It’s the one time during the week (when we’re not on some insane, carb-free diet, that is) where we do something new and spend quality time together.  I was a little nervous that I might stab a hipster with a fork and that bail money might be required – so we invited another couple to join in our little pizza adventure.  Sure, inviting guests meant there would be additional witnesses, but it also ensured that our party would have enough bail money to spring me.

The couple in question included a work colleague and his wife.  Said work colleague and I spend an inordinate amount of time snickering and making jokes at the expense of anyone and everything around us, and we frequently laugh so hard that one or both of us winds up in tears.

My pre-pizza mood was about a 7.  I was a bit nervous about introducing my hubby to a new couple – you never know how that’s going to go – and let’s be clear.  I was expecting to be annoyed to death by hipsters.

Hubby’s pre-pizza mood was about a 6.5, mostly because we didn’t eat at 4 PM like we normally do and he hates waiting.  Especially for pizza.

Parking Situation and Exterior Appearance:

It’s uptown.  You park on the street.  At a meter.  If you can find a spot.  We were fortunate enough to find a spot about half a block away from Galactic’s front door.  I kept my eyes shut while my hubby parallel parked and vowed that I would never return to Galactic Pizza on my own, unless it was in a taxi.

From the outside, Galactic is a quaint little storefront in a sunny yellow building.  Having done a little research on the joint prior to our visit, I’d learned that this self-proclaimed “planet saving pizza” place uses renewable wind energy to power their restaurant.  As a hybrid car driver, avid recycler, and fan of the planet in general, I must admit I find that pretty cool.  Although I did attend a liberal arts college and took the required science courses to graduate, I’m hardly an engineer, so I must confess that I sort of expected to see a giant windmill or something on their roof.  How does this work?  I want to see the wind!  I am highly curious about this renewable wind energy thing and therefore, I implore my more scientifically competent friends to explain this to me using color crayons and hand puppets so I can comprehend.  In return, I can answer any questions you might have about the Fair Labor Standards Act.  Call me!

Entrance/Welcome:

After you burst through the front doors of Galactic Pizza, you’ll be confronted by some velvet curtains.  (They might not be velvet.  I never took a Home Economics class so this is another area where I’m out of my element.  Ironically, I did work as a teacher’s aide in a Home Ec class for a semester but that’s a story for another day.)  After you part the perhaps velvet curtains, you’ll enter the restaurant itself.  Galactic Pizza has a “seat yourself” philosophy and limited seating.  If you go on a Saturday night, you can expect to wait.  We closed the curtains (it’s rude to stare at people while they eat) and proceeded to wait. 

Note: there’s really no good place to wait here.  If you stay behind the maybe-velvet curtain, you’ll be next to the exterior door, and if it’s cold out, you’ll get blasted with arctic air every time someone enters or exits.  If you enter the restaurant itself, you’ll be looming over some poor diner. 

After a 10 minute wait, we were able to secure a table.  Our dining companions were still en route, so we previewed the menu and had a snack.

Clientele/Overall Vibe:

I had a preconceived notion that this place would be jammed with elbow-to-elbow hipster doofuses and patchouli-scented hippies.  And I was wrong.  It happens.  Deal with it.  Galactic Pizza draws a diverse crowd – young, old, families, hemp-lovers, couples on dates, and middle-aged opinionated pizza bloggers. 

Galactic Pizza is a self-described values-led company.  They deliver pizzas in electric cars.  They use locally sourced, organic ingredients. They compost their food waste.  Takeout orders are placed in biodegradable packaging.   If you order a “Second Harvest Heartland” pizza, $1 is donated to this hunger relief organization.  They use hemp products and the menu is printed on hemp paper.  And the list goes on and on.  Read more about their mission and vision here. 

Wait Staff:

I’m not going to lie.  I was relieved to see that our server was not, in fact, wearing tights and a cape.  She was not a super-hero, but she was a great server!  Not only did she help us navigate the menu, she made suggestions and when we showed off our indecisive sides, she diplomatically suggested a peaceful solution. 

Menu Selection:

Galactic Pizza is totally serious about their mission of saving the planet – but they also know how to have fun.  What I loved about this place is their whimsical and playful take on their serious mission.  Take the menu, for example.  It comes with 3D glasses, to help you “peer into the future of food satisfaction”. 

Galactic Pizza offers a wide selection of specialty pizzas, and if you have dietary restrictions, do not despair!  Gluten free, vegetarian, and vegan options abound.  Salads, pastas, and desserts are also on the menu. 

To wash it all down, you can enjoy soda, organic iced tea, or a selection of beers and wines.

Food Wait Time:

True confession: we didn’t time the pizza wait time since we were busy socializing.  We had great fun with our guests and will likely invite them to join us in future pizza outings if they are still speaking to us after watching how rowdy I become after two beers.

Drumroll, please . . . the Pizza Itself:

Each couple at our table ordered their own pizza – primarily because the hubby and I have food aggression and our guests feared being victims of a fork stabbing or biting.  Because we were struggling to make a decision, our server gently suggested that we do a half and half.  We got an Old School and Mexacali.

The Old School is your traditional pizza; tomato sauce, mozzarella, pepperoni, sausage, mushroom, green pepper, and red onions on a regular, old school crust.  (No gluten free for us.)  It was one of the best pizzas I’ve tasted in recent memory. 

The Mexicali is Galactic’s version of the taco pizza, made famous in elementary school cafeterias around the world in the 1980’s.  Featuring Salsa Lisa cream sauce, mozzarella, cheddar, chicken, green onion, roma tomatoes, cilantro, and jalapeños, this was also a winner.  

The pizza was hot, fresh, and assembled with care.  Unlike prior pizza excursions where the corner of the pizza was lost en route to the table (talking to you, Michelangelo’s), this was a pizza that was made with love and organic ingredients.

Our dining companions also went with a half-and-half approach on their pizza.  I believe they went with the Paul Bunyan on half and sadly, I’m not sure what they had on the other half because I was too busy licking my chops and shoveling pizza into my own pie hole.

Price and Value:

You’ll pay a little more at Galactic Pizza than at say, Domino’s.  A large pizza will run you about $22 – but if you can swing the prices, it’s definitely worth it.  Not only is this a values-driven company, it’s a fun dining experience and the food is delicious.  Did I save the planet?  No.  But I felt like I was doing something good.

Post-Pizza Mood:

We loved having dining companions (thanks, Jeff and Lori!) and this was just the dining experience to share with others.  We left Galactic at a post-pizza mood of about 8.5 each.  It would have been higher but we over-indulged and when your pants are hurting you, it’s hard to get to a perfect 10.

Bottom Line:

I’m ashamed of myself.  I judged Galactic Pizza without giving it a chance.  The uptown location and the guys in tights led me to believe this was a hipster doofus paradise and therefore, a representation of everything I loathe in this world.  And I was wrong.  I’m grateful to my friend Jon for recommending this place to me, even though his recommendation was mean-spirited because he was convinced my head would explode.  (I forgive you, Jon.) 

There’s no shame in Galactic’s game.  They have a very serious mission and vision, and they walk their own talk.  They lead with their values, which is a refreshing change of pace.  The best part is that they make a freaking awesome pizza in the process and they manage to make saving the planet fun. 

Sure, the parking situation sucks.  And it costs a little more.  But it’s definitely worth a visit and if I can get a ride, I’ll be back.