Saucy's Pizzeria

___________

10859 Old 21
Hillsboro, Mo.

On the Web.
On Facebook.

Latitude: 38; 13; 28
Longitude 90; 34; 23
Altitude 204
(Yeah I've been playing with the 'location' settings on my smartphone)

Happy Holidays everyone!
Around the house, as we do most Christmas Eves, we visited  a friendly KFC and grabbed a big bucket and a pile of sides. We do the all-out food feast on Thanksgiving and usually have not quite recovered from that. Plus, no dishes to wash.
By Monday afternoon, we were down to one piece of chicken, the one that had been passed over all weekend. I'm not even sure which part it was, it didn't look anatomically accurate for a chicken.
We had options, we do keep food and ingredients in the house, but I had an idea.
"That new pizza place is open."
Angel quickly agreed. Neither of us wanted to fuss over the stove anyhow, we have the rest of our lives for that.
I'd discovered this place on social media, because I have an eye on the community through that lens. Whenever a new place announces there I like the page so I'll know when it is open. As it happened Saucy's opened up on the Thursday before Christmas. It would still have that new pizza place smell.
The Place:
This is the third eatery I've reviewed at this address. First it was Bobby Munzerts, then Pizza Junction, then a place that was only open for a month or two (a lease issue of some kind) that I never got around to going to. You may recall Pizza Junction, Adam worked there for about a year. It was okay, at first, but in my opinion declined in quality and service after a management change and just never won me back. I liked Munzert's as well, a pretty darn good steak, close to home.
It's near the intersection of Old Highway 21, the main drag in Hillsboro, and Highway B, across B from the Hillsboro Mall (Dollar General). The location abuts a U-Haul rental store, so just look for those trailers.
I had a couple of things to do, including a stop at the mall (Dollar General). Just before I went in to the store I called in my order. Angel had chosen the pizza and a side from the online menu.
They said it would take twenty minutes, that was just about right.
I finished my shopping and checked the clock, fifteen minutes had passed, good enough.
I made the short jump to the pizzeria with time to spare.

I went in and noticed that the place had barely changed at all from the Pizza Junction days. There were arcade games in the entrance and I believe, the same bar, tables and chairs. Which wasn't a bad thing, they were all very functional and not at all shoddy.There was hardly anyone else there, but it was only four thirty. Also, they offer delivery and that's a pretty good chunk of any decent pizza place's business.
There were three or four young ladies behind the bar, at least a couple of them welcomed me. They seemed friendly and not frightened by my appearance.  I told them my name.They brought out a generic pizza box and a plastic bag containing a Styrofoam take-out box. I handed them my magical money card, they started to run it, but there seemed to be some confusion. They asked for my name again.
It turns out that someone had paid the wrong $27 tab. Mine, in essence was technically paid for. It took some time to straighten that out, I did indeed pay my fair share. This did not bother me too much. The place had only been open for a few days and those POS (point of sale) systems take some getting used to.
The Food:
One 14 inch deluxe pizza (pepperoni, pork sausage, onions, green peppers, mushrooms) and a side of
wings. I was forced to make a choice of chicken sauces. This worried me since I don't usually partake of the wings. The young lady rattled off a short list, including an option referred to as 'dragons breath'. Angel called me that once and not while she was cooing with pleasure. So I went with the only one that I thought to be digestible, garlic parmesan.
I made the short trek home. I whipped up some fresh ice tea, Angel tore into the boxes immediately. She was pretty hungry. Unlike me, she had actually burned some calories working that day. She's a dog trainer and boarder and dogs don't let you take days off.
I'd picked up some potato chips at the mall. I like having something crunchy to go with pizza. I don't know why, but I do.
Opening the box we were both pleased with the appearance of the big pie. The topping chunks were

big and plentiful. The crust and cheese had been cooked to golden, caramelized crispiness. It was somewhat irregularly sliced, which I don't mind. Angel was already halfway into a wing by the time my tea was done. She recognized the garlic parmesan coating and was quite pleased with it, I think she even cooed with pleasure. "The wings are large." she pointed out. She was right, they didn't look like the scrawny wings you find at most places, these were from some more curvy chickens.
The pizza stood up to its claims. Pretty darn decent. The cooking time and temp were spot on, the distribution of the toppings, excellent. The fresh-made original sauce recipe was not too over-thought or complicated. It carried well without overpowering or drowning the other flavors. The pizza even held up well being reheated for breakfast and lunch the next day.
Summary:
Followers will recall that we currently favor Pizza Hut for take-out pizza. We gave up on Domino's and never cared at all for Imo's.  From our location, when we just want to run out and get a reliably good pizza, the big PH has been the default. I can honestly say now, that may have just changed. This pizza and the wings were at least just as good, probably better, than we usually get from the big franchise. And Saucy's has the distinct advantage of being half the distance. By far the best pizza in Hillsboro.
I wish Tom and Shannon the best with their expansion into our humble community. I hope it finds success and continues to be an option for the entire area.
Well worth the trip!

Crushed Red

Urban Bake and Chop Shop

11635 Olive Blvd.
St. Louis (Creve Coeur), Mo.

On the Web.

So I got invited to a media event at a new location for a St. Louis based, growing family of restaurants.
Stop laughing, I am indeed, by every modern definition, a living, breathing, member of the local food media. . .Seriously, I am.
I get these invitations occasionally, mostly I ignore them. No, I just do not want to drive thirty extra miles to sample some freakish chocolate/bacon/beer concoction. . .
This one caught my eye though, mostly because of time of day and location. 6 P.M. about three miles from work, in the direction I go anyhow. Plus, pizza and salad.
Sure, why not.
I asked Amanda if flash photography was allowed, she responded affirmatively almost immediately.
In kind, I responded with my acceptance.
On the day of the event, she even pinged me again. . .
Amanda works as an Accounts Coordinator for Fishman PR. A public relations firm. She's the one who invited me.
I left work at around 5, found the place pretty quickly and had to find a way to kill about forty minutes. Not so hard, the shopping center hosted a Creve Coeur Camera. I parked between the two and . . oops. . . This location of the camera shop was vacant. Only thirty five minutes to kill.
So I walked around the shopping center, that ate up about five more. Fortunately I stumbled across a Crown Vision Center.
Yeah, Angel's been nagging me to get new glasses. My prescription ran out about a year and a half ago. . Since then, almost daily I am told, I complain about it to Angel. So she nags me about it.
The problem with glasses is that they change your appearance. Unlike underpants, socks or ascots, people will notice your glasses. I don't like being noticed.
I browsed around a bit, tried few frames, but was generally dissatisfied with the choices. It did though, burn up some time.

The Place;

An upscale shopping center on busy Olive Boulevard, near I-270.
The place looked nice. Well laid out, nice floors, walls ceilings, matching furniture, the sure sign of a significant front-end investment.
Another man was asking the available staff person about the 'event'. I joined the discussion, we were shown to the back. I spotted Amanda before she spotted me. She apparently hadn't looked up my Linkedin profile as some people might routinely do when they are about to meet someone for the first time. . . Is that stalky? When we did meet, she checked me off her list and offered to get me something to drink. Sure, water.
There were a few others mingling around, one lady seemed friendly and curious so I sat across from her while scoping out for better options. I'm a guy, it's what we do.
Robin was with I-Heart Media. A company name I recognized from a few local radio stations. I-Heart owns about 850 radio stations. KLOU in St. Louis is one of them. I assured Robin that I would listen sometime, if I could remember how to change the station on the car radio.
Shortly after we sat, a handsome younger man stopped by and introduced himself as Powell Kalish, a name I recognized, but Robin did not.
I had done some advance research. This was one of the founders/owners. Powell, his late father, Ralph and Chris LaRocca, a man with many, many successful restaurant ventures under his belt, started the business and concept a few years back.
Robin was a true people person though, quite a bit more charming than I, so he spoke mostly to her. After one question about the 'theme' of the place, he went through a few catch phrases. I added one that I'd read on the place's web site earlier. "Artisan-fast." He seemed pleased.
I wasn't worried about Robin as a rival, or competitor. As soon as she showed me her business card I knew we were there for entirely different reasons. I was there for content for my silly blog, she was looking for potential advertisers.
She'd brought along Cindy Collins, on-air talent for KLOU. Cindy introduced herself as a DJ.

Chris, Cindy, Candace

"They still make those?" I asked.
You see I don't listen to music on the radio if I don't have to. I have nothing against music on the radio, it's just that I cannot control it and I rarely enjoy enough of a particular genre to stick to one for more than a song or two.
I will try to find the station though, I don't mind living on the very edge occasionally.

Chris came by and chatted for a bit. Once again, Robin's people skills proved more charming than my own dour expression and steno-pad note taking. I actually enjoyed her company.
Robin, if you are reading this, my long time fans can tell you that that statement is quite a compliment. I'm not a people person.
The back area was filling up, business cards were being swapped among strangers as furiously and freely as STD's in the 70's. Yes, I have business cards. Because I'm a member of the media.
Chris then called the buzzing group to order and led us out for a tour of the kitchen area. It was easy to find, completely exposed to the front area as it was.

I was eager to see that custom-made pizza ovens that he had helped design. The temperature displays on the sleek, modern devices were flickering between 625 and 635 degrees. That's hot enough to melt lead (Pb). It's a temperature you'd expect on a more pleasant day on the planet Mercury, but for we water-based life forms, this is pretty hot.
The stacked ovens run on gas and had rotating stone trays inside, like a microwave.
He explained that this was an innovation unique to Crushed Red. This oven made it possible to fully cook a pizza in ninety seconds.
Of course, one of the problems for lunch crowds for a pizza place, is that traditionally, pizza takes a long time to prepare and then cook. A pizza joint, other than those disgusting pizza buffets (you know which ones) is not often a viable spot for a busy, cubical-dwelling worker bee to have lunch.
Speed up the process though and you may be onto something. Of course, the dough is vital to this process as well.
When they opened up, they hired a guy from Panera Headquarters. He happened to know a few things about dough. Crush Red developed a dough recipe that would taste good, cook fast while maintaining a quality texture. I would have to see for myself.
The front line though, was the salad prep line. Crushed Red serves pizza and chopped salad. That's pretty much it. I don't mind this. I find it quite appealing.
And the chopping is actually the thing.

We were given a demonstration by Candice, the operations manager. She showed us the custom-made mezzaluna knife. Mezzaluna means 'Half Moon' in Italian. ('Halve Maan' in Dutch.)  It is a curved knife, in Crushed Red's version with two blades.
We have a smaller domestic version at home, it was sold 'As Seen on TV' as an 'Ulu' chopper. We love the thing for finely chopping onions, peppers, fingers, etc. So I understood the concept.
Crushed Red uses a customized, limited edition model, only available to the public once per year. There's a waiting list. You can get something very similar, without the engraving, on line and at fine cutlery shops.

Candice was a pro, a true knifing artist as she walked and deftly rocked the tool over greens spread out on a flat chopping block. Amazingly fast. The demo was short, she filled a bowl in no time, then added some un-chopped toppings, turkey, toasted seeds, dried fruit, etc. It looked really, really good.
The salad she made had apple in it.
Chopped greens+apple? Wrap it up and call it a Dennis Salad. When I make my own salads at home, three or four times a week, I chop the greens and add an entire chopped apple. Then maybe some protein, cheese, etc. Robin and I discussed this, we were of the same mind on this. We hate getting a salad at a restaurant that needs further fussing with. Of course, if you chop greens, you can't leave them setting around very long. So if you have a salad bar, you have to leave things in larger chunks.
We then were told to line up and order our food.
They have predefined salads and pizzas, but they also allow you to build your own, if you have that kind of confidence.
I don't.

The Food:
I scanned the prominent electronic menus/ordering kiosks. The pre-defined salads and pizzas were

simple enough to choose between. I was going with standards, nothing fancy. I asked for a Farmers Market salad, small, much like the one Candace had chopped. Pizza was a little tougher, but I finally decided on the sausage pepperoni and mushroom option. This would make comparisons to other pizzas easier.
The folks behind the counter took over. The chopping began in earnest. The crew was obviously well trained and disciplined. The owner had referred to this as 'the show' which means he taught his staff to prepare food while being on display to customers.
We were offered a wide selection of wines and beers, I passed. I shouldn't be allowed to drink and blog.
Some folks from Modern Brewery were there for the event, passing out samples. I had to refuse. I simply don't have a trained palate for beers. I didn't want to taste it and then have to write that it was eerily reminiscent of opossum urine. That's pretty much what most craft beers taste like to me. Non-craft beers taste worse. But that's just me.
I rejoined Robin at the table. We had chosen the same salad.
During the demonstration, the owner had mentioned 'house-made honey mustard dressing'. When queried about my choice of dressing, I almost chose an off the shelf standard, but decided that even though 'honey-mustard' sounded a lot to me like 'fish- ice cream' I once again manned up and picked it. YOLO.

The salad was absolutely awesome, including the dressing. Flawless, perfect. Fresh, chopped perfectly dressed. Robin agreed, this was exactly what we wanted when we went out for a salad.
The pizza took a bit longer than I thought it would, but still in much less time than a typical pizza parlor. Part of the delay, in my opinion, is that there were a dozen or so pizzas being made and delivered, but there was no connection between the pizza and the person or table. The servers had to go from table to table asking everyone if they ordered the one they were carrying. I'm not sure if this was an 'event' issue or if this also happens in the front with non-VIP's. (Yes, I was considered a VIP, I am a member of the media, you know.)
It was worth the wait though. Roughly the size and shape of a fully deflated football. It may have only taken ninety seconds to cook, but the crust and toppings were done perfectly. A crispy, but not burnt or doughy crust, the cheese all melty, the sausage still sizzling.
The size was single serving perfect as well, plenty there, but little to waste. It had that 'artisan' look and taste. This was not discount, plain-label meat. The pepperoni and sausage were spicy and fresh. The mushroom flavor I never discerned, but for me, that's not a bad thing. I like a little mushroom, but, as with green peas, too much just overpowers everything else. I asked Robin about hers, first about the crust.
"It's like a thick flatbread, fluffy on the inside but not at all heavy."
I then asked her about the taste, whether it was yeasty. "I don't know what yeast tastes like. I can't identify that." She answered, seemingly baffled by the admission. I agreed that it was what she said, but I can taste/identify yeast, and it was there, but subtle, which for me is a very good thing.
For a simple, single serve pizza, it was as good as I've had anywhere, anytime. I was equally glad it was not St. Louis style.
A small salad, a tasty pizza, a wide range of wines and beers, I can see why this young enterprise is thriving and expanding. (In a few months, the lucky folks in Denver, Colorado will be able to enjoy it as well!)
__________

Earlier in the evening we had been handed VIP cards, individually numbered. We were told there would be a drawing. It was time. I had seen the table with the swag bags. In front of the bags was a nice basket chock full of interesting things.
Two bottles of wine, some jars of crushed red and pickled peppers and a box that I assumed held a Crushed Red mezzaluna.
I couldn't tell what was in the swag bags.
Chris drew a number, of course I didn't win. I'm not much of a winner when it comes to winning things.
They handed out the swag bags though, that was cool.
I bid Robin a kind farewell, she was getting ready to leave as well.
When I got home I spread out the swag. Not bad, not bad at all. A bottle of Edge Wild crushed red wine, a plastic thermos mug, a key ring/bottle opener from the beer guys, a beer koozie, and a $15 gift card.
I gave the gift card to my co-worker Tim. He'd expressed an interest in the place after I told him about the media event. His wife liked it too when he told her aboutit, the 'Artisan Fast' catch phrase seemed to be the ticket. I've never met Tim's wife but I have heard him talk to her on the phone a few times. At first Tim didn't want to take the card. I assured him It had cost me nothing so it was like the restaurant giving it directly to him, I was not planning to go back for several months and would likely forget about the card by then.
I don't remember what happened to the wine.
Summary:
I am under no obligation to Crushed Red, FishmanPR, or anyone else to say nice things about the place. There were no strings attached, no questions asked and no conditions listed, whatsoever. Nor does a free meal and a swag bag really influence my opinion. I can afford meals out and half the stuff in the bag will end up in that one kitchen drawer. You know the one.
Places take a big risk blind-inviting bloggers to events such as these. I am perfectly willing and capable of giving a bad review when it is deserved.
But I just can't this time.
I really liked the place. I liked the concept, the green-ness of the operation, the owners, the staff, even

the young man that bussed the table. (I asked him how he liked working there. "Best restaurant I've ever worked at." Was his instant reply.)
The menu, single serving pizza and chopped salad? Sold! Faster, yet fresh food? Brilliant!
If I lived closer to one of the locations I'd definitely consider going there more often.
It was modern, efficient, clean, and the food was definitely A+.
Highly recommended!
There, the media has spoken.

Oh, and special thanks to Robin. She was fun, funny and a seriously decent person for letting me impose. She even let me take a photo of her!

Imo's Pizza

Before we get started, a little update on last week's post for Cafe Arnold/Local House.
We were searching for/craving fish tacos. The newly sold/bought place didn't have them. Angel is nothing if not tenacious, she still wanted a fish taco.
This Saturday morning I drove to Hardee's to try their new Grilled Cheese Breakfast Sandwich. In the drive through I noticed that they had fish tacos on the menu. I mentioned this to my lovely wife when I got home.
We'd already decided about the evening meal, but she didn't let a little thing like that distract her. So as she was picking up the pizza, she detoured through the drive through at Hardee's and picked up an order of four.
Before we started wolfing down pizza, we each had a Taco. I was pleasantly impressed. For a fast food offering, these tasted rather fresh and dare I say, light. The tortilla was soft and pliable, the lettuce, crisp and the fish, though battered and fried, was not at all greasy. There was a hint of spicy hotness in the tiny dribble of sauce, but it was only in one bite. There was more tortilla than necessary, so like with pizza crust, I ate out the center and tossed the rest away. We both agreed that these tasted okay, maybe a bit too thickly breaded, and the assembly seemed rushed. Not as good as those we had at the now defunct Cafe Arnold, not as good as Angel remembered the Hardee's previous version, but doable. There will be more.

Imo's Pizza
#1 Jefferson Square
DeSoto, Mo.
Web Site

There is an Imo's in Hillsboro. I knew that. In the eight and a half years we've lived here and the five years we've been reviewing eateries, I've never had a pizza from that place. That was deliberate.
Many years ago, back when we lived in/around Springfield Mo. I was a member of a political third party, ran for state representative twice and served as Chairman of the Greene County Libertarian Party for a year. We were not a large group and certainly not formal or wealthy, so we met at the pizzeria owned by the family of one of our members, an Imo's Pizza.
Usually by the time I got to the meeting someone else had already ordered a pie. I nibbled at it, but not
much. I didn't care for that trading card thin crust. For being so thin, you'd think it would be crunchy, it wasn't, it was kind of tough, like cardboard. I didn't much care for the cheese and sauce combination either. Too sweet. This was my first brush with what I now know to be St. Louis style pizza.
So when Angel suggested this, I was gobsmacked.
"Seriously?"
"They have a thicker crust option."
I thought about that. No, I didn't know they had a thicker crust option. I thought further. What other options were I not aware of? It occurred to me that I'd never actually ordered an Imo's pizza. Someone else always did. Sure, why not, hadn't had pizza in a while.
The Place:
Somewhere in DeSoto, I'm not sure exactly, because I didn't go. They offer dining in, but I like pizza at home, in my recliner, with good tea. I made the tea myself. Angel logged in to the Imo's web site and tapped in an order, one for us, one for Adam. We simply do not like the same toppings. He did go for the thicker crust as well though.
Angel made the drive, she wanted to swing by a farm supply store, dog stuff, and Hardees anyhow, for the aforementioned fish tacos. Sure, I'll make some tea and work on my other blog.
I had my headphones on, listening to Bach's Brandenburg Concertos, because, deep down, I really like that sort of thing, even though I risk sounding snobbish whenever I mention it.
If you aren't from Missouri, you've probably never heard of Imo's but around here they are an institution. St. Louis has had a vibrant Italian population since Columbus first invented America in 1776 and decimated the indigenous population with biological warfare. Or something, I'm not feeling very research-y today. Anyway a lot of Italian families settled in St. Louis and it seems, even today, that every one of those families had/has a restaurant. There are some really, really good Italian joints around. Ed and Margie Imo were living in St. Louis in 1964 and thought it would be really neat if someone would bring a pizza to them rather than trekking out past midnight on Friday nights to get a meat-laden pizza. (A Catholic, no meat on Friday, thing.)
Though pizza made its way to popularity in the U.S. after WWII, nearly all of it was dine in or takeout. Pizza delivery as a regular option didn't start up until around 1961, as best as anyone knows, starting with DomiNick's (Later Domino's) in Michigan. (They originally delivered in a VW Beetle). Okay, I am feeling a little research-y.
So Ed and Margie opened up a place of their own, near their home on 'The Hill' and started delivering pies around the city in 1964. The idea caught on and they started expanding around the Gateway City soon after the iconic Gateway Arch was erected. To date there are ninety locations, mostly in metro St. Louis, with several sprinkled around the Show-Me State including Kansas City and Springfield.
The Food:
Angel had ordered two pies, for us a 'Deluxe' with sausage, mushrooms, onions, green peppers, bacon, and their signature Provel cheese.
Adam's was an 'All-Meat' with sausage, Canadian bacon, pepperoni and bacon.
They also picked up an order of boneless wings with a Ranch dipping sauce. I don't know what the deal s

with Ranch dressing. I've been to a ranch, a real ranch. I don't want anything that might taste like those places smell. What is wrong with you people?
Besides, I don't like wings the way they are made in sports bars and pizzerias. Too spicy.
After we tried the fish tacos, we popped open the boxes. Adam took several 'wings'. Hell, they didn't look a thing like wings. They were bright orange balls. Angel liked them, they agreed they were pretty good. Angel kept trying to push them on me, or maybe she just liked saying "Dennis, wouldn't you love to taste some spicy balls? They're pretty good!" I had all sorts of witty replies prepared but I can't share them here since this is an open minded and family-friendly review.
They agreed that though they were quite good, they weren't worth the $8.95 price. Yeah, that's a picture of nine dollars worth of chicken. Imo's is quite proud of their sticky, spicy balls.

The pizzas did look more 'normal.' Not as thick as Pizza Hut's hand-tossed, but certainly better than the Imo's thin crust. The toppings were spread out and plentiful. The bacon worried me, it was full slices. The pizzas were cut into squares, which leaves tiny orphans on a round pizza. It's a St. Louis thing.
My worries abut the bacon acting as a rip cord pulling off most of the toppings with it, were unfounded. The bacon was sliced so thin that it broke easily with every bite. For that thinness though, the bacon taste didn't really stand out. The sausage was nice and spicy, it balanced out the sweetness of the sauce and cheese.
Adam's was indeed, all meat and lots of it. Big slices of it. It looked pretty good, but I like a little veg on my pizza.
I was happier with the thicker crust, though it seemed to be a little tougher than Pizza Hut's. Later, when I reheated some, just enough to make it warm, the crust toughened up even more. By morning it was worse, even Rudy had some trouble chewing it. Not that I feed pizza crust to dogs, that would be wrong.
We discussed it with open minds, each one of us wanted to say something good about it. Adam said that St. Louis style just wasn't his thing. I was happy that it was better than I had expected. None of us rated it higher than Pizza Hut.
Summary:
Kind of a pricey meal, those precious non-wings set us back nine bucks on their own. The whole bill came to forty six dollars and change. It only barely covered two meals apiece though, the pies weren't that big.
It was okay, not nearly as bad as I'd expected, but unfortunately that's about all I can say. As long as there are other options, I can't come up with a reason to prefer Imo's to anything else.
At least we tried.

Pasta House

1806 Galemore St.
Festus, Mo.
On the Web
On Facebook

This one is complicated. Very complicated.
Pasta House is a regional chain, headquartered in St. Louis. Founded in 1974 it now has around twenty locations, most in the Metro St. Louis region. Some of the locations are owned by PH, others are independently owned franchises.
We were excited to find out they were building one in Festus. More excited that the location was on Highway A, before you actually get to Festus. During our frequent trips to the town, we watched the progress. It went pretty slow, about a year or more in construction.
Finally, Angel noticed the 'Now Open' sign flashing. So as far as deciding where to go, this was an easy week.
I'd looked at the online menu ahead of time, so I was properly prepared. We invited the boys, Adam and his friend that I call Larry.
I was a bit groggy after a very heavy nap. I'd been up at 2 A.M. for a couple of hours tending to a regular work thing, system checks. Angel and the boys made fun of me because when I'm in this state I tend to incomprehensibly mumble.
The Place:
It was dark, early for dinner service, around 5 P.M. The parking lot was nearly full. This was their first weekend being open, I supposed we weren't the only anxious ones.
We could have gone to any of the other locations, we just never had. Angel had looked at the online menu as well and was relieved to find out that it was not fast-foody. She was worried that it would be like Fazoli's, that place is simply awful.
The building was brand new, it still had that new Italian Restaurant smell to it. As we went in we saw the line. Angel asked, they said it would only be about a five minute wait. The front section is a well appointed bar with about a dozen high bistro tables and chairs. People were not only drinking at the tables but also having their meals.
Sure enough we only waited a little more than five minutes before we were called. I'd spent the time sizing up the crew. The manager was easy, better dressed than the floor crew, black shirts and jeans for them. Among the mostly young ladies a couple appeared to be go-to people that the others paid heed to. I like to know who's in charge.
We were led to a four-top barely inside the dining area. Sure enough the place was packed, the din was almost rowdy sports bar-like. Lots of families, lots of very young kids in high chairs. One of the tots was banging a spoon on the tray, something that got very old and annoying very fast.
Directly overhead was a stock ceiling speaker belting out big band music, Moonlight Serenade at the time and a very bad rendition of it. Either the recording or the sound system was murdering it with clicks and pops and squashed bars, those that know audio would call it overdrive distortion. It was  made worse by the fact that the volume was up too high for dining anyhow. Along with the loud diners, the music made me uncomfortable, I don't like loud places.
I was reminded that PH was to get certain breaks in the review. This was a new crew, a new restaurant and it was their first weekend open. So any griping I make about the service are only for comparison at a later date.
One thing we did notice to their credit was how quickly they turned tables. It explained the short wait. The last crumbs had barely hit the floor before the table was being bussed.
Another lady came by and handed us menus and asked about drinks. Tea, Sweet tea and two Cokes. A bit later she brought them and we ordered an appetizer, toasted ravioli because St. Louis.
It didn't take long to decide, I knew going in what I was getting.
The Food:
Me: Spaghetti Bolognese, small, no salad.
Angel: Tutto Mare
Adam: Volcano (Hot wing and ranch) Pizza
Larry: Bacon Cheddar Burger and fries.
For those not as smart about Italian dishes as we experts are, I'll translate. Bolognese is not baloney and mayonnaise, it is a meaty tomato sauce.  When I make spaghetti at home, which I do fairly often, this is what I make. At home, we just call it 'spaghetti'.
Tutto Mare is not horse meat, it is actually seafood over pasta. Tutto mare means roughly, 'all sea'. Clams, shrimp, scallops, that sort of thing. It's usually in a creamy sauce.
If I have to explain burgers and pizza to you then you should just leave my beloved country, right now.

The ravioli arrived in a long white plate. alongside was a think, almost chunky marinara for dipping. Angel had ordered the twelve-piece so there was plenty for everyone. I pulled two off the plate, dipped them each twice at right angles, and dropped them onto the little appetizer plate we'd been given.
They were not as crispy as I thought they would be. I expected a crunch, but it never came. The taste was very good, the pasta seemed fresh, but for me it seemed a bit rubbery. No one else complained, in fact they sort of dismissed my assessment altogether. So maybe it was just me.
We finished them up fairly quickly, then the real wait began. A new place, new crew, new kitchen I would have been completely surprised if there had not been a longer than 'normal' wait. Fortunately we had devices and the PH guest WiFi was quick and strong.

As we browsed, I took time to look around at the decor. Mostly photos and a  lot of huge movie posters, mostly in Italian or for spaghetti westerns from the 60's and 70's. One photo confused me, it was of Marlon Brando. I was never a really big fan but I do know that Brando is not Italian. He was born in Nebraska and his ancestry was all German, Dutch, etc. Like I said, I was not a big fan of the big man, but the only thing I could think of is that he might have been in a movie in or about Italy. . .  I'll have to look it up sometime.
The floors were enormous earth-tone tiles, the walls were painted a glossy dark yellow, the tables and chairs were black. It was properly lit, not too bright, not too dim. More than anything though it was loud.
There seemed to be ample staff, all running around bouncing from table to table. Another man stepped out of the kitchen and stood watch, a definite authority figure as well. He and the other man I'd pegged as a manager held several discussions, but mostly they scanned the dining area like hawks on a post.
Several minutes passed, and by several, I mean about forty five, from the time we were handed menus until

the entrees arrived. Just before the entrees showed up the new manager guy spotted me looking around and rushed over, apologized for the wait and ordered someone to go grab us some rolls.
We were served a saucer full of assorted, condiment style butter containers. then a lady came along behind us with a basket full of rolls and tonged two apiece into our appetizer plates. They were warm, almost hot and smelled heavenly, like fresh baked bread should. I cracked open one of them, the crust was pleasantly crispy, and scraped the entire contents of a butter tub into each one. Mmmm, melty butter. They were tasty, but our enjoyment was short lived as a solo act as the main course finally came.
My spaghetti and Angel's seafood pasta looked correct. After just a moment though I saw it, very disappointed. When I scooped some of the pasta toward the middle of the dish, a watery puddle formed. This wasn't because the sauce itself was watery, it was because the pasta had not been thoroughly drained before plating. I was able to stir it all around and it mixed in a little better, but it weakened the sauce.

Not that it could stand much weakening. The pasta was cooked correctly, well maybe a little overdone, and the sauce tasted just fine. . . which for me is not a compliment. As I said earlier, I make spaghetti quite often. I know a good sauce and I know a really good sauce. This was cafeteria sauce. Perfectly adequate for a modest meal, but hardly up to the depth of flavor and texture you'll find at a hundred other local Italian places. It was  red sauce and ground meat. I could detect no peppers, celery, garlic, onions etc.
This was really disappointing compared to the quite-nice marinara dipping sauce we'd had earlier, that had been almost salsa-thick. This sauce was really not any better than some of the better canned sauces at a grocery store. Not that there's anything wrong with canned sauce, I use it myself, as a starter. I always add peppers, onions, garlic, celery, etc. But when you go out to eat, especially at a place called 'Pasta House' you expect something a little better, richer, deeper. . . is that asking too much?
Angel was quite happy with her tutto mare. She especially liked the fact that the clams were not in the shell. It makes a pettier plate with clams in-shell, but it is sort of a hassle to de-shell them. There was plenty of shrimp as well, and as she does with this dish she fished all the meaty bits out without eating more than half the pasta.
That's completely normal. Neither of us ever finish our pasta. Even though mine was a 'small' I knew I couldn't hold that much heavy, starchy stuff, especially after the excellent rolls. At home I serve twice as much sauce as I got at PH and half as much noodles. I had the same problem with ratio at an Olive Garden a few weeks back the taste was okay, but the pasta to sauce proportions were just not in-whack.

I asked the boys about theirs. Larry was guarded, though he finally confessed that he wasn't very impressed with the burger. A bit bland. He didn't care very much for the fries either, though he stopped short of saying he didn't like them.
Adam had a few slices of his odd looking pizza, thin, paper thin crust,
chunks of hot wings and a pale beige sauce, Ranch Dressing, I believe. He really didn't care for the celery chunks on it. He said he got it, that hot wings are often served with a side of celery sticks and Ranch dipping sauce, but he said the celery taste overwhelmed his taste buds. He plucked the chunks off, said he wished they, like with wings, had been served on the side instead of cooked in with the pizza. other than that he said it was pretty good, but would not compare it to other places.
We argued a while about whether or not celery had a strong taste, when I cook I almost always cook with celery and have always thought of it as subtle. We finally decided that Adam just has weird taste buds.
Summary:
I said at the beginning that this was complicated. You see, I want places to succeed, I want a new place to be good. I'd heard good things about PH, but was not prepared for it being as lackluster as it turned out to be. It wasn't that anything was bad, there just wasn't anything there that I cannot get better versions of in other places. For Angel, it was the ambiance. I agree with that as a problem. It's too noisy, it lacks that cozy, candlelit, rough around the edges atmosphere you find at the many trattorias in the area. Sure, it cost a little less, more on par with Olive Garden, (around $16 per head plus the appetizer) maybe less, but was it worth it? I'll pay a premium for a good steak I'm not good at cooking them myself, so I don't mind. This spaghetti though was just no better than Angel and I make at home. It's not like spaghetti is hard to make.
As for all the waiting . . .  did I mention that I had to flag down the manager guy to get the check? I get that, it's a new place. I was a bit annoyed that I didn't catch our servers names primarily because no less than half a dozen different people served us, the bread lady, the tea lady and the two Coke ladies . . . I didn't tip very high, at all, because I didn't know who or what I was tipping. Yes, I completely ignored the 'suggested gratuity' list at the bottom of the check.
We will, of course, go back in a few weeks or months to see if the place runs a bit smoother. I don't know if I can count on the food being much better, I'll certainly have to try something else, probably the cannelloni, certainly not a burger. . .
The place is brand new, so it gets a pass for now. .  .

Pizza Hut

201 - 203 S. Truman Blvd
Crystal City, MO
On the Interwebs.

It had been longer than we could remember since we'd had a Pizza Hut pizza. It was probably takeout. It used to be our go-to place until the Pizza Junction opened up here, closer, in Hillsboro.
We could have gone to the PH in Desoto, it's closer, but we headed to Crystal City/Festus anyhow. We knew they had moved recently, from one building in a shopping center to another. I'm pretty sure we hadn't been to either.
I asked Angel during the drive an interview-like question:
"So what is your level of expectation for Pizza Hut?"
"You mean like on a scale of one to five?"
"No, no, of course not... One to seven."
She thought for  a bit, then finally: "Four."
I thought this was an interesting answer, so I dug in.
She explained that back in the day, BPJ (before Pizza Junction) she'd always been quite satisfied with PH. "So my actual expectation is probably a bit higher than that." She amended.
It was a beautiful Autumn day, cool but not cold, bright blue October sky.
There weren't many people there.
The Place:
We were seated and then greeted by a young lady with 'Amber' on her name tag. I assumed that was her name. She handed us menus, simple, legal sized laminated cards.
"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely.
"Why yes, yes we would." I replied and returned to casually scanning the menu.
Angel finally nudged me (poked me in the ribs with her elbow) and I looked up at Amber, she was looking at me, almost frustrated. I've recently discovered that people don't always ask the question they think they are asking and when you answer the question they actually ask, they look at you funny. Like that's my fault.
We barked out our drink demands, tea, unsweetened with no sugar, sweet tea and Pepsi.
I looked around.  The place did indeed look new.

They went with a sports theme, several big screens, thankfully muted and playing sports games. . .football, I think. On the walls were framed, full size sports shirts of game players that I'd mostly never heard of. Somebody once told me sports shirts were called 'Jerseys' which just made no sense. The garment long known as a Jersey originated on the Island of Jersey, a Crown Dependency of the United Kingdom. These knitted wool garments were the rugged and heavy predecessor of what we call a sweater. Modern sports shirts seem to be made from some sort of space age polymer and would hardly keep a man warm on the damp, wind swept island.
The tables and booths were all new and the carpet was barely worn. A nice place, if you like sports and misnamed articles of sports clothing.
The Food:
We had all decided to have pizza. Which was good since they don't really serve much else at Pizza Hut. We had also decided to get three individual pizzas. We all have favorite things on and styles of pizza, that do not sync up well. To build a 'compromise' pizza would leave at least two out of three of us less than satisfied.
So we all scanned the full range of options.

Angel likes thin crust, Adam and I prefer hand-tossed. Angel and I like the 'Supreme' Adam doesn't like veggies on his pie. Thus, three different pizzas.
As the drinks were delivered Angel and Adam had decided to get some wings, like Angel needs more wings. I rarely eat wings because they tend to spice them with acid, or whatever it is that makes a hot wing a hot wing. I've never found any I care for, at all. So they didn't even consult me. After some debate they eventually decided on  Bone-Out Asian style. Sure, fine. Just stop saying 'bone-out'
After a few minutes Amber brought some small plates, some bundled silverware and some napkins along with the wings. The wings looked like Chinese style, breaded balls, fried golden brown, with a distinct sugary smell.
Adam noticed it too. "They smell Asian." he said. I shut him down immediately. "Don't be such a racist." I scolded him. I know lots of people from Asia, they don't smell any worse than most Americans I know. How embarrassing.
I decided to go ahead and try one of the wings . .  .maybe it would be like Chinese. It sort of was, then the pepper spray element hit. Two bites, that was it. Angel and Adam seemed to like them though.
The thing with a pizza place is that there will always be a wait. We were prepared, we had devices, PH had WiFi.

Linoleum Thin Crust Supreme

Soon enough the pizzas arrived. Well, sort of. Amber led the delivery with an apology. "We made them all thin crust, we're making two more for you with the right crust, but here are the ones we made."
Well, color me impressed. Back when I worked in a pizza place we counted on botched orders, they became 'house pies' for the staff. It looks like managers finally figured that little scam out.
Yes it was a mistake, but the fact that she came out ahead of it rather than concocting some sort of cover story instantly made it not so bad.
I had one slice of the thin crust. Of course, the ingredients were all the same, so I sat and picked at them. I don't hate thin crust, I just prefer something a little more substantial, with a flavor and texture less like linoleum.

Hand Tossed Supreme

A while later Amber returned with drink refills and a question. "Would you like the hand tossed pizzas in a box?"

"No, we'd prefer these two in a box." I answered, pointing to mine and Adam's, which were mostly intact.
She brought a couple of boxes, followed shortly by our original choice pizzas. Angel was about a third of the way through hers.
I goofed up because I was hungry. I broke off one slice and stuck it into my face. The four hundred degree sticky cheese stuck to my tongue and sent shock waves through my system. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I let the next one cool, I drank a little more of my stale and weak tea. Finally I was able to eat the thing.

Hand Tossed Pepperoni Lover's

It was kind of sloppy looking, hurried. It looked as though the kitchen might have rushed it through since it was to make up for a mistake. The toppings looked as though they were arranged with help from a hand grenade. Though the crust did have the signature poofy spots, which I love, the bottom of the crust wasn't faring well. It was  turning soggy and was disintegrating. I noticed that this pie had bigger, deeper puddles of grease, a little off-putting. By the third small piece, I was basically scooping the hot mess off the plate with my fingers, it was coming apart. I didn't get halfway through it before I slid the remains into my box. Adam did likewise. Angel had one slice left, we added it. We ended up taking away nearly three full pizzas.
Angel liked it though, she really likes, and I share this sentiment, the large, chunky peppers, mushrooms and onions. We also liked the sausage.
We always order too much pizza, that's because we all like breakfast pizza.
Summary:
The bill came to forty six bucks, not bad for five pizzas and eight chicken nuggets, I suppose, but we weren't paying for five pizzas, just three. This seemed a bit pricy for industrial pizzas.
By industrial, I mean 'franchise'.
If you can't make it yourself, you get somebody to make pizza for you. If you are going to buy a pizza,

there's a hierarchy. 1. Privately owned and operated places. 2. Franchises, 3. Frozen.
Private individuals that operate pizza places care about their food first and foremost. You can usually taste that passion. Franchises are businesses bought up by business people. They want to make as much money with as little expense as is possible. Some may be passionate about the pies, but not usually. In most cases the recipes are not even their own.
Frozen is what you eat when no one's watching. It's not really that much cheaper for a brand name frozen pizza than at a pizzeria, but you can eat it when you are alone and too lazy to actually prepare food.
All in all, for a franchise pizza, this was pretty good. Not nearly as good as Pizza Junction, or dozens of other places around the area, but if you want a fast, simple, satisfying pizza, this is a good place.
Amber did an exemplary job of handling a tough problem. I liked that. Mistakes are going to happen. Places get into more trouble when they try to cover it up. She kept the drinks refilled, the bill came quick. Excellent service.
We'll probably go back sometime, but probably not for a while. There's just too many great pizzerias in the area to settle for his very often.

Lorenzo's

106 Main St.
Desoto, Mo.
On the web
Facebook

A few days ago on a certain social media site, someone in one of the county groups I follow, said they were moving to Desoto and wanted to know about restaurants there that other members could recommend. Lorenzo's jumped into my head immediately, but when I was about to comment, I noticed that several other people already had, more so than any other place.
There are some fine eateries in and around Desoto, but it was this place that I thought of first.
Coincidentally, when Angel came up with a list of two or three places for this outing, I chose Lorenzo's.
The Place:
It sits on Main street, across form the tracks. On the other side of the tracks, sure enough, property values drop.
Main street is old style, mid 20th century, small town brick store fronts. It even still has an old-school movie theater.
Lorenzo's sits adjacent to a vacant spot, where they've set up a patio. They're known to frequently get a projector and show ballgames on the wall of the next building.
It was a nice, some would say perfect, evening for sitting outside, but we didn't. We went in and were led to a booth pretty close to the last booth we sat at.
Charlotte brought us some menus and asked about drinks. Lorenzo's serves many, many beers and wines, so we got unsweet tea, sweet tea and Coke.
I like wine. I'm okay with beer. My problem with beer is that it is too filling to have with a meal. My problem with wine is snobs. If I had wine with my meal I'd have to rate it, and that is very hard to do without it coming to fisticuffs between myself, a simple man with simple tastes, and the snobs. They're a violent bunch and not as dainty as you might imagine.

The Food:
"I don't think I want pizza." Angel had declared. I kind of did. They serve a little nine incher at a very
reasonable price, $6.35 with up to six toppings. That's a lot of toppings. And they have some good ones. The standards, of course, but they also have 'gourmet toppings' including, from their website:
Anchovies, Artichoke Hearts, Basil Pesto, Capicolla Ham, Fresh Mozzarella, Fresh Spinach, Goat Cheese crumbles, Gorgonzola Cheese, Grilled Chicken, Meatball, Minced Garlic, Prosciutto di Parma, Ricotta Cheese, Shrimp, Volpi Salami.
Yeah. . . I know.
They also have a selection of sauces and cheeses.
I designed my own.
Traditional sauce, traditional cheese, topped with onions, bell pepper, Italian sausage, bacon, pepperoni and to spice it up a bit, pickled banana peppers.
Adam bought one off the rack, the so-named 'Sicilian', traditional sauce, mozzarella cheese, Italian sausage, pepperoni, Capicolla Ham and fresh basil.
Angel changed her mind. Her pizza was embarrassing. Garlic butter sauce, St. Louis style (Provel) cheese, black olives, mushrooms, sausage, onions, grilled chicken. To me, this didn't sound like pizza at all. Even less so when she informed us that she almost added artichokes. Seriously, artichoke. . . on a pizza. . . embarrassing.
Of course, the forgone conclusion, for an appetizer we were unanimous in wanting the deep fried cannelloni.
We get this every time. It's Lorenzo's one up of the traditional and generic (in the St. Louis area) fried ravioli. It's better, much better. The appetizer cost more than any of our pizzas, but it was gone in a couple of  minutes. They make their own. . . everything, sauces, sausages, everything there. The blend of meat in these bites is, as I've put it before, buttery in texture and smokey and savory, but not spicy, in taste.
Angel thought they'd been cooked too long, too crispy, Adam and I disagreed, as there is no such thing as too crispy. The signature, house made marinara sauce coated the crispy, buttery bits with a fresh sweetness that you cannot get out of a can.
We waited patiently for the pizzas, they are built to order and should not be rushed. We had our e-devices so we were entertained without actually having to hold conversations with each other. Lorenzo's has wifi, but you have to have the password. I asked for it and was told it was the zip code, which I didn't know, but I do now. So we sat there and privately swiped and tapped. The big-band, Italian-ish crooners filled the room with ambiance. Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee, Dean Martin, etc.
The pies arrived. None of us has ever been able to eat the whole thing in one sitting, but that's a plus. Two words, 'breakfast pizza'. 
Mine was, by far, the prettiest pie. The bright yellow banana peppers, the green bells, the sauce and the cheese was a delicious looking palette. We all noticed that the pizzas had been sliced in quarters, too large to handle. There were knives along with other cutlery in a Mason jar on the table. Each quarter got sliced in half.
Be prepared though, these things come to you hotter than the surface of Venus (860° F). Do not dive right in, wait for it, wait for it. . .
The crust was thin, not cracker thin, but certainly not thick. It was also very good. Not too yeasty or oregano-y. Just a perfectly simple crust that does not need to be stuffed with anything. I finally did get to bite in and was perfectly satisfied. The banana pepper was a great addition, a new, different taste to the more traditional toppings. The little vinegar-y things were thankfully sparse and thus, did not overwhelm.

Adam's pie was mostly meat, with a sprinkling of
chopped basil to offset the otherwise bland colors. Adam is a pizza professional, capable of making a great pie himself at the place he works. Even though he eschews vegetables, onions, peppers, etc, himself, he respects them, his opinion counted for something. He was quite pleased.
Angel's atrocity was also nice to look at, but wrong, just wrong. No tomato sauce, chunks of chicken, and knowing that it was slathered in Provel 'cheese' rather than mozzarella, as God intended, she bit into it as if it were perfectly normal. Provel, a primary component of St. Louis style, is a blend of cheeses made specifically for the region. I've never cared much for it myself, it comes across as a bit sweet. Sure the texture is great, it doesn't harden as it cools, but for me the taste is one-off. Sure enough, the richness of the cheese had her stop about halfway through. Well, we all stopped about halfway through. The fresh ingredients and sauces

and cheeses make this pizza rich, and very filling.
Charlotte brought us boxes, and the check.
Summary:
 I told Angel that this would be a very difficult review to write. A good story requires conflict. There was none. Zero. The whole experience was pleasant, efficient, relaxed, tasty and just plain good. Okay, the tea was pretty weak, but that's it. Lorenzo makes seriously good pasta dishes and can also toss out an exceptional pizza, one of the best in the county, if not beyond. The price was more than reasonable, an appetizer and three pizzas for thirty four dollars and change. . . three six-topping pizzas! The staff was efficient, precise and experienced, very, very few slip ups in our many visits. The place itself is cozy and 'warm'. Even the music fits the place perfectly. I not only think Lorenzo's makes one of the best pizzas in the area, but on the whole, I'd go so far as to say that it is among the best restaurants as well.
Highly, highly recommended!

Pizza Hut

2090 Rock Road
Desoto, MO
On the Web

There are several aspects to this choice. It was Angel's and I had burdened her with specific criteria. It had to be take out.
I was working all day Saturday on an upgrade for work. I got to work from home, but working from home on an upgrade is still working. Dinner time, by my professional, expert calculations would be crunch time, the time of day when I  had the most manual activities to perform. So early in the week I'd made my demand.
Angel almost immediately suggested Pizza Hut. this surprised me a bit since for us, the great mid-Jefferson County Pizza wars are over. Adam works at perhaps the best pizza place in the area, it's a place we also have to drive right past, for an additional seven or so miles, to get to Pizza Hut. I realized though that we were doing this because of our reviewing task, not because of personal preference. Pizza Hut is where we used to get pizza before Pizza Junction opened. So, sure.
The Place:
Amid a cluster of fast food franchises on the northern edge of Desoto. Domino's is a literal stone's throw from the Hut. Neither place will deliver to our address, I don't think, we don't mind the drive to pick it up. We tried Domino's once since moving here. They didn't measure up. After my review, Domino's corporate sent me an apology for the bad service, adding that there were a couple of coupons for free pizzas waiting for me at the store.We never took them up on that.
As it turned out, the upgrade was a wee bit ahead of schedule and by the time Angel called in the order I was at another 'wait for it' stage that would last an hour or so. I volunteered to go pick up the pies, just to get out of the house and for a change of scenery. Working on an upgrade from home is a little like being in a recovery room at a hospital. You're confined to the proximity of the devices that you are tethered to.
It was a pretty Spring afternoon, so the fifteen minute drive was not unpleasant. I parked and strolled up the ramp to the door.
Inside was dark, like a Pizza place should be, but what was more noticeable than the decor and the lighting was the aroma. Nothing smells as wonderful as a bakery or a seasoned pizza joint. Back in my younger days, I worked as a pizza delivery guy for Garcia's Pizza in a Pan in Rantoul Illinois. It was a part time gig that I took on to earn the $450 I needed to adopt my lovely daughter, Leslye. (She loves this story.)
That period of time was dubbed the worst winter on record for Champaign County Illinois, to that point. Wild, terribly cold winds whipped the snow like a brutal sandstorm. Wind chill factors were distant-planet like. To keep the pizza's warm in my bright yellow Pinto Station wagon, I had a thin metal warming box with four racks and two cans of Sterno.
I had that car for a couple of years after this job, it still always smelled like fresh pizza. I loved that. That's what hit my brain when I walked into the store.
They were pretty busy, mostly with take-outs. I've never actually dined in there.
I announced my name to the young man and he rang it up. I was hoping they got the order right, I wasn't paying attention when Angel called it in.
I got home and Angel and Adam were waiting at the door. I grabbed the boxes and stepped up to the door. I knocked on it. "The pizza guy is here!" Adam announced. Angel asked "Do we have to tip him?"
They didn't.
The Food:
One large Super-Supreme, for Angel and I. One large, two topping (pepperoni and black olives) for Adam, plus one box of 16 hot wings, with Ranch dressing on the side. That was for Angel and Adam, I don't care for anyone's hot wings. Not eve Hooter's famous wings. I rarely go to Hooter's but when I do it's to gawk at the young, scantily clad babes, not for the food. I'm just being honest here. My daughter knows this as well. She grew up and became one of Springfield Mo.'s first Hooter's girls. I'm so very proud.
The Super-Supreme we were up-sold on. Angel had originally ordered the standard Supreme, but they said they were running a deal on the Super, more of everything. I grabbed a plate, picked out two slices, made some tea, and sat at the table with my book. I downed the slices pretty quickly, I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I grabbed one more.
To be honest I didn't give the pizza much thought at the time.  Angel and Adam didn't say much either. My mind was on work, trying to anticipate how many things could still go wrong and really, really screw up the rest of my weekend. It wasn't until later, after I was done with the upgrade and settled into my recliner for the evening, that we even talked about the meal.
"I don't think it was any supreme-ier than the regular supreme." Angel said.
I could only say it was okay, I was preoccupied at the time though. Had it been hideous, I would have remembered. Had it been wonderful, I think I'd remember that too.
That's the thing about franchise pizza though. Like franchise burgers, the best among them is only a manner of a few degrees. Franchises work with tried and tested, rigid recipes and procedures.   A franchise pizza or burger place is no place for an artisan.The goal of franchises is consistency. Go into a Pizza Hut or Burger King in Little Rock, it'll taste pretty much the same as it does in White Plains, NY.
That consistency comes at a price though, lack of creativity. Locally owned places can tweak and tune and try new things every day. Places like Pizza Junction and The Concord Grill know this and capitalize on that originality.
That being said though, there's something a little comfortable about familiarity. Having done some travelling, it was often very, very comfortable to go to a franchise place, you knew exactly what to expect.
Unless the chains get lazy. My review of Domono's is an example of franchise laziness. The folks making the pies assembled them hurriedly and without basic quality control checks. It was as if those pies came off an un-tuned assembly line. This night's Pizza Hut pies showed a little of that as well. There was a lot of dry crust around the edges, more than an inch in many places. That's a lot of real estate on a big pizza that tends to just get tossed. We appreciated the generous amount of toppings, which we actually paid for, but leaving that much of the pie un-topped made us feel a little cheated.
The taste was fine, but not great. Timid sauce, uninteresting cheese. The crust tasted good, toasty, but there was simply too much naked crust.
Angel said the wings, the mild version were good, I'll take her word on that.
Summary:
Forty bucks was the price for this okay pizza meal. That's not bad since there was easily enough for more than one meal. The tea was fantastic, because I made it. So no chart this week.
Pizza Hut, on a good day, is still better tasting and more consistent than Domino's. That's not really that high of a hurdle though, both of these franchises beat anything that you pull out of your freezer. However, Pizza Hut, my favorite franchise brand, is not nearly as good as Pizza Junction or those my younger brother labors over. These people care about the quality of every single pie. Given the choice here in Hillsboro, I'l stay closer to home next time.