Deep Dish Done Right

Pizano’s Pizza
864 North State St.
Chicago, IL
Visited August 19, 2010

Beer Selection: Peroni, Old Style and 312 are the only interesting selections you can’t find at home

Food: Quintessential Chicago Deep Dish Pizza

An overflow crowd of people at a joint can mean the food is really good.

Or it can just mean you’re at Applebee’s on kids-eat-free night.

Definitely NOT good.

I thought about this nuance as I approached the Rush Street version of Giordano’s, one of Chicago’s famous deep dish pizza chains.

Just trying to get in the door to talk to the hostess was like enduring a trip to the DMV on the 30th of the month.

As I waited on the Rush Street sidewalk in the line out the revolving door for the privilege of finding out from the hostess how long the wait will be for a the privilege of sitting down (turns out, one and a half hours), I tried to recollect another Chicago pizza joint I had patronized a few years earlier.

I didn’t remember the name, the location or even which street it was on, but after enduring the tourist-crazed soccer-hooligan-like mob scene in the foyer of Giordano’s, I set out to find it.

Sure enough, a few wrong turns and a bit of aimless wandering paid off as I spotted the green and red sign down State Street.

Pizano’s.

This was the place.

If Giordano’s was like feeding time at the Cook County Jail, Pizano’s was like dining in Tony Soprano’s grandmother’s family room.

It’s a down-right cozy place with a lively bar stacked with locals cheering on the White Sox on the flat screen TVs, surrounded by four or five small tables up front. The back room was just a quiet nook with five small tables dimly lit by votive candles.

A mural of Chicago street scenes along with happy little tomatoes, green peppers and garlic decorated the back wall.

Sure, there was a 45 minute wait here too, but at least you don’t feel like cattle in a pen at feeding time.

Pizano’s has won awards for the best thin crust pizza in the city. But it is owned by Rudy Malnati, Jr.

You see, Rudy Malnati, Sr. is the guy credited with inventing Chicago-style deep dish pizza in 1943 at Pizzeria Uno.

So there was no question what I was ordering.

Deep dish, baby. With pepperoni, onion and Italian sausage. And about three or four long neck Old Styles.

While Chicago-style pizza has its detractors (I believe SuitOchoCinco called it poorly constructed meat lasagna poured over cardboard), those curmudgeons need to try Pizano’s before rendering a final verdict on Chicago’s second most famous export. (At least deep dish pizza isn’t going to bankrupt the country.)

Pizano’s version is the way deep dish pizza should be. Crispy toasted pepperoni discs, diced onions, thick spicy chunks of sausage under a blanket of lots and lots of mozzarella and tomato.

But it’s Pizano’s crust that proves that deep dish doesn’t have to mean a mouthful of undercooked dough. Pizano’s is crisp, buttery and – dare I say – delicate.

Delicate? On a deep dish pizza?

Yeah. The crust ends up being the perfect compliment to all that deliciousness piled on top, rather than the distraction it so often becomes in the hands of an amateur -- or a pro with a three block waiting list.

And as “delicate” in texture as it is, the crust still manages to serve its primary function of maintaining the structural integrity of the pizza. After the first bite or two, you can actually put your knife and fork down and pick the pizza up – just like God intended.

Just try and do something like that with one of those tourist Chicago pizzas! You’d be wearing it on your suit.

And I believe that is the key to what makes Pizano’s pizza so good. You can tell they actually take pride in crafting it.

This place isn’t about feeding a mob of sweaty, hungry tourists.

It’s a more personalized and serene way to enjoy one of Chicago’s great traditions -- like being invited over to some Italian grandmother’s home for Sunday dinner.

And just think, when you come to Pizano’s, you don’t even have to write a thank you note.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Deep Dish Debacle in the Windy City

Gino's East Pizzeria

8725 West Higgins Road
Chicago, IL 60631-2716
(773) 444-2244

Beer Selection: Moderate

Food: Deep Dish Chicago Style Pizza

Red Sox vs. Yankees

Apple Pie vs. Cherry Pie

Coke vs. Pepsi

Newt Gingrich vs. Conservatism

Democrat vs. Republican

It seems there is no end to the rivalries we are continually faced with on a daily basis... without a doubt one of the most debated food rivalries that seems to never be settled is... Chicago Style Pizza vs. New York Style Pizza.

As I landed in the chaos that is Chicago O'Hare Airport I jumped in my hotel shuttle and was immediately thrust straight into the heart of the city that festers with the likes of people like Barry Sutaro, William Ayers, and the infamous 2nd Amendment-mutilating Mayor Daly.

As my stomach started to rumble I reluctantly decided to venture out into the city known for it's mob bosses and union militancy with one goal in mind...

...Decide once and for all who deserves the title of "Americas Best Pizza"

The epic task of deciding which style of pizza was truly the best was not a assignment that I took lightly. And if I was going to be truly objective, I needed to experience “Chicago Style Pizza” in its purest form. Upon questioning Chicagoans where I might find the quintessential representation of their storied pie, I found out very quickly that not only do they unanimously agree to strip every basic liberty from the American citizenry, but they also agree that there is only one place that represents Chicago Style Pizza at its best… Gino’s East Pizzeria.

Apparently the Gino's East story began in 1966 when two taxi drivers and a friend, frustrated with rush hour traffic, decided to open a pizzeria just off Michigan Ave. and Superior St. in Chicago.

That decided it. I plugged the coordinates for Gino’s East into my GPS and set off to decide for myself.

Upon arriving, I was surprised to find that every single employee of this fabled Italian eatery was of Hispanic decent. Not a good start. I was again disappointed when I realized that every TV in the joint was tuned to the Phillies vs. Cardinals baseball game, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Was I not in the land of Cubbies and Black Sox?

Did they not know that the Houston Astros were at Wrigley field this evening? The blatant disregard for their local teams was stomach turning.

I had a glimmer of hope as I passed a patron singing along with the jukebox to Hank Williams Jr.’s “if the south would have won” while drinking a microbrew straight from a pitcher. But my elation only lasted moment as I approached the bar to order a pint of their finest micro brew and the bartender, Jose, asked me what I would like in barely discernible broken English. Given the circumstance I quickly decided to skip my normal ritual of asking the bartender for his recommendation and ordered what looked to be a local brew -- Honkers Ale.

The tap handle was a goose head buried in a sea of domestic rot guts and seemed like the clear choice.

Upon taking my first sip I was pleasantly surprised by my selection. It was the perfect blend of hops and barely and went down easier than water off a gooses back.

The propaganda on the wall left me little choice in my quest, the Gino’s signage proudly declared that the Meaty Legend deep dish was the best representation of their storied pie.

I pounded what remained of my beer and proceeded to order the Meaty Legend deep dish.

Upon its arrival I was taken aback by the sheer size of this behemoth in a pizza pan. The server quickly cut me a slice of this piping hot creation and slapped it on my plate. The huge chunks of bacon, sausage, ham and pepperoni where clouded in a haze of steam and molded in a thick gel of melted mozzarella and tomato sauce. .. things were looking up.

The first bite dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. It was too much. The overwhelming amount of sauce was fighting with the sheer volume of slaughtered pig for taste dominance. The cheese was barely discernible in the sea of sauce and the crust reminded me of week old stale corn bread. Disappointment was the only emotion I could muster. I methodically choked down the remaining pieces and decided without a doubt there is no contest; Chicago Style Pizza couldn't hold a candle to its New York counterpart.

Nausea began to set in as I stared at the remaining pieces, so I ordered another beer and asked the server to get the pie out of my sight. As I finished up, I struggled to understand why Chicagoans were so devoutly addicted to this gluttonous creation.

This was no pizza pie. At best, it was a poorly constructed meat lasagna slathered on a cardboard representation of "crust."

As I left the building I longed for a six-inch wide piece of New York pizza folded in half, dripping with grease and coated in Parmesan cheese and red pepper flakes served by a rude and obnoxious self entitled New Yorker dropping the F-bomb as an adjective.

Sorry Chi-town, I hope your hot dog lives up to its reputation We will soon find out.

Rating: Would wear the shirt if it were free (you'll need to decide for yourself)