End Zone Pizza

subject: End Zone Pizza
take-out vehicle: cardboard pizza box
cost: $13.51

Normally when I'm brainstorming ideas for a new post, I'm inspired by something. Usually it's the food itself, sometimes it's the method of delivery, and other times it's just something funny that happened while eating. This time, however, I'm having trouble.

I'll say right off the bat that I liked End Zone's pizza and would order it again without much arm-twisting. The outer crust was crisp yet chewy, the slices wide and foldable, the pepperoni sufficiently greasy. The sauce was a tad sweet, but it was balanced out by everything else. I really had no complaints. As I reached for my second slice, however, I remember commenting to my wife, "This kinda reminds me of that Cobb's place." A bite and a considered moment later: "And maybe Anna's too."

As I continued to think about it, End Zone's pie reminded me of lots of places, and not just those here in Cville: there's that restaurant in New Jersey where I got pizza when visiting my wife's aunt and uncle, the small pizzeria in Nags Head I frequent while vacationing...and, you know, that other place I went that one time. Perhaps now I know why my mental engine isn't humming. There's just not that much new stuff to say about a place to which, in spirit at least, we've all been many times before.

But as I said, End Zone Pizza makes good stuff—standard, maybe (unless you include "The Beast," End Zone's 28-inch pie and self-proclaimed biggest in the region), but good. Of course, I don't think End Zone is trying to be anything other than what it is: a simple, classic, if-it-ain't-broke-don't-fix-it neighborhood pizzeria.

And for certain, End Zone Pizza ain't broke.

Anna's Pizza #5

subject: Anna's Pizza #5
take-out vehicle: flimsy pizza box
cost: $17.17

As one of the few (perhaps only) pizza places in Charlottesville older than myself, I had been eager to finally try Anna's for some time. My only excuse for not having previously done so was inconvenience, but this past Friday I finally made up my mind to take the plunge. I called ahead on my way out of the office, picked up two bottles of chianti (it was Friday, after all), and made my way across town.

Anna's opened in 1976, and at the time it was probably a really cool place for locals and/or students hang out. Unfortunately (though I'd never been in there before and so I can't say for certain), it seemed as though nothing had changed in the 30-odd years since. The furniture, the lights, the lonely old jukebox in the corner—they all seemed ripped from the set of Happy Days. Likewise, the pizza itself seemed dated. It wasn't awful, don't get me wrong, and perhaps I didn't get to experience it at its zenith, but the pizza I picked up just seemed...tired.

I ordered a 16-inch traditional pizza with half pepperoni and green pepper (my favorite since childhood) and half broccoli (one of my wife's new favorite toppings). As I tried them separately, however, I found each pizza component to be somehow lacking. The pepperoni was thin and didn't have a great deal of spice, the cheese was stringy and had an odd melted-plastic-like quality, and the sauce was mediocre. The crust was probably my favorite part. It was golden brown yet foldable and chewy, very similar to other "Yankee-style" pizzas I've eaten before. I think my biggest disappointment, however, was the previously frozen broccoli. It was just unappetizing.

All that said, the whole turned out to be somehow greater than the sum of its parts. Yes, it was uninspired and I've certainly had much better, but in a way it was also comforting, like an old cozy blanket. My wife, who grew up on Anna's but who hadn't eaten from there in probably 15 years, said it tasted exactly like she remembered. "It's a taste," she said, "that you just can't forget." And despite my never having eaten it before, I understood what she meant.

I admit, I was hoping for a better pie, but combined with the two bottles of wine, a few good CDs, and three hours of overdue conversation, our meal turned out to be pretty darned fantastic.

Cobb's New York Pizza & Grill...again

subject: Cobb's New York Pizza & Grill
take-out vehicle: pizza box
cost: $2.73

So I made it back for a slice of pepperoni pizza. I have to say it wasn't quite worth the drive across town, but was certainly good enough to eat if I were in the neighborhood and needed a pizza fix. Though I try not to drink much of it if I can help it, I could also see this pizza pairing well with a light beer.

The crust of very droopy and the cheesy was stringy and dense. The pepperoni could've been a little more plentiful, but its flavor came through. As I'm used to the prices downtown, I thought the price I paid for the slice I received (1/6th of an 16" pie) was fair, but it turned out my pie was cut incorrectly and normally the pies are cut into eighths. Lucky me, I guess, but I'd be hesitant to pay $2.50 for such a slice in the future. If I eat pizza here again, I'm getting a whole and more reasonably-priced pie...and a pitcher.

Vita Nova

subject: Vita Nova
take-out vehicle: pizza box
cost: $7.25

I've noticed that a lot of people are pretty polarized when it comes to liking either Christian's or Vita Nova. I'll admit that I've been no exception (I'm on team Christian's), so today I decided to make a good-faith effort to become one.

I haven't been to Vita Nova in a long time, so I was surprised by how similar the two places were, at least in person. Vita Nova's pizza menu, according to their website, is much more extensive. Notable pizzas offered only at Vita Nova included the Thai chicken pizza and several seafood pizzas (I did not see any of these during my visit, however).

Though tempted by a slice of Thai chicken, I opted instead for a slice of grilled vegetable and a slice of pepperoni. The grilled vegetable slice was flavorful and piled high with chopped fresh spinach, grilled zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant, bell peppers, carrots, and olive oil. Though hard to eat at times (the vegetables frequently slid off the crust, even with the cheese I requested), I enjoyed it very much. The grilled flavor didn't really come through at all, and the olive oil may have been a touch overused, but the flavor of each vegetable was fairly distinct and they blended well.

The pepperoni slice was also pretty good, but not my favorite. The crust was thicker than it needed to be and made the overall slice much more filling than I would have liked. Granted, they're big slices, but I felt like the heft of the crust distracted from the sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. The pepperoni was spicy, which I appreciated, but I wish it had been a little more cooked. Some may disagree, but I think pepperoni grease is one of pizza's great pleasures, and it was sorely lacking here.

Overall, I don't think I tasted anything that will pull me away from Christian's permanently, but I remain intrigued by their greater selection. I'll have to return to try the Thai chicken slice, and if I ever get the craving, the pasta as well.

Rise PizzaWorks

subject: Rise PizzaWorks
take-out vehicle: pizza box
cost: $13.35

Though a lifelong fan of pizza, I was never really a fan of Casella's Pizza (Barrack's Road's former Italian/pizza eatery), so when I heard about Rise PizzaWorks coming earlier this year, I was pretty excited. Not only would Barrack's Road have another (hopefully fantastic) pizza place, but said pizza place would also have an element of novelty: custom pizza by the slice.

As it turned out, the whole "custom pizza by the slice" thing is kind of a misnomer. There are three sizes of "slice" that one can order: a quarter-pie (2 slices), a half-pie (4 slices), and a whole pie (8 slices). It was never made clear, but after seeing them, I would guess that whole pies are approximately 14 inches wide, and that the quarter- and half-pie crusts are cut therefrom.

Feeling adventurous, I decided to set aside my unabashed love for gluten and try a quarter-pie with a gluten-free crust. I topped it with pesto, chopped fresh tomato, fresh basil, prosciutto, and low-fat mozzarella. My wife chose the regular (i.e., gluten-included) wheat crust with tomato sauce, broccoli, carrots, red peppers, and regular-fat mozzarella.

As I expected, the gluten-free crust was thin, but it served its purpose well. It was reasonably chewy, and not once did it break, tear, rip, or otherwise compromise the structure of the slice. It was, however, lacking in cooked flavor (the underside of the crust sported a little too much extra flour for my taste), and, most unfortunately for me, smaller than the regular quarter-crust.

The toppings themselves were decent. Dominant on mine was the saltiness of the prosciutto, followed by the pesto, which I thought could've used a hint more garlic. The tomato provided a cool freshness to each bite (the short ride through the oven was apparently not long enough to heat them through), but their flavor was not overt, and the basil blended into the pesto. The cheese was mostly tasteless, but it too served its purpose by adhering the toppings together.

Save for the hard-to-mess-up fresh veggies, the gluten-included wheat crust slices reminded me very much of the pizza I got while eating at JMU's central dining hall earlier this year. While not a horrible comparison, I was expecting much better. The crust itself smacked of Boboli®* (pretty low on flavor, fairly airy, and in that middle ground between good and "whatever, i'm hungry"), and the amount of cheese was a bit much.

Speaking of a bit much, Rise's interior is pretty crazy. It's kinda like being inside a giant Hot Wheels® car. The walls are stainless steel, but the ceiling and front-facing wall are huge solid blocks of bright yellow and orange. If Rise has succeeded in one thing, it's making people forget about the über-traditional jewelry store that preceded it.

Besides pizza, Rise also makes custom salads, and their impressive selection of toppings can be applied to both. I probably won't make it a point to go back soon, but when I do, I'm going to find a way to use dried cranberries on a pizza. Ooh, what about a regular wheat crust with a ricotta-basil base with fresh spinach, pine nuts, dried cranberries, and bleu cheese crumbles? (If anyone tries that, let me know.)

Final score:
Pizza I could make at home for less money: 0
Novelty: 1

* Similar to Boboli, Rise's crusts are par-baked. When we ordered, sections of nearly done crust were taken out, topped, then run through a short pizza oven for about 3 minutes to finish.

Doctor Ho's Humble Pie

subject: Doctor Ho's Humble Pie
take-out vehicle: pizza box
cost: $21.75

I hate mediocre food. I mean, at least awful food provides a certain amount of inspiration, but food that's just okay gives me as much motivation to write as I have hope for this UVA football season (and that would be very little, for those of you who weren't aware that UVA, instead of practicing actual plays, apparently spent the summer inventing new ways to turn the football over to the other team). but I digress...

I have to say that I was really excited on my trip down 29 South. For years, I'd heard that Dr. Ho's was the gold at the end of Charlottesville's pizza rainbow. In fact, I was so confident in its goodness that I made up new names for the restaurant, on the off-chance they asked me to rename it.* My top two were "Dr. Ho-ly Crap This is Frickin' Good!" and "Dr. Ho-ld Me Because This Pizza is So Good That I Just Messed My Pants and My Knees Are Weak." I was kinda partial to the second one.

The place itself was pretty cool. Located in the big white crossroads store in North Garden, Dr. Ho's was not at all what I imagined. Based on their website, iI was expecting a larger space with a stage in one corner and booths all around; instead, I entered a very well-worn, very intimate space. Every wall, and even the ceiling, was decorated with seemingly random bits from thirty years worth of college dorm rooms. Among them: an old, framed, and slightly crooked picture of Bob Marley; a rubber chicken; a hanging wooden fish; and a racing-esque sticker on the Coke dispenser that read "chronic thc - super kind." To say that it had character would be an understatement.

I arrived earlier than I had planned, so after about fifteen minutes of looking around and politely turning down offered drinks, the very nice waitress (who seemed to know everyone else there except for me) finally handed me my pie and wished me a good day. Even more excited than before, I strapped myself back in my car, cranked up my iPod, and shot back up 29.

Okay, first of all, pizza and cheddar do not mix. They just don't. I'm cool with lots of different cheeses (ricotta, feta, chevre, parmesan, pecorino, even the occasional gouda), but I draw the line at cheddar. It's just not right.

Of course, someone could say, "Well, wait a minute, John. Half your pizza was 'fajitaza' and had chicken, peppers, onions, and salsa on it. How does cheddar not go with that? And it's not like salsa is supposed to be on a real pizza either."

To which I might reply, "Well, someone, you might have a valid point there, but you can shut right up. Number one: cheddar is for sandwiches. Number two: the 'fajitaza' was a lot better in concept than in execution so I won't be getting that again. And number three: UVA embarrassed themselves this weekend so I'm a tad bit irritable at the moment."

Someone would then probably feel bad and say, "Hey, sorry man. I didn't mean to cause trouble."

And I would likely respond by saying, "I apologize, someone. I was rude. Ooh, I know! Let's go to Mellow Mushroom and I'll buy you some pizza without any salsa or cheddar on it."

Tex-Mex influences aside, the "fajitaza" was pretty disappointing. The crust was soggy from the salsa, and, on its own, the chicken was rather bland. Unfortunately, the dominant flavor—and texture—was the cheddar. There was just too much.

The other half of my pizza was called "humble pie": green peppers, onions, mushrooms, italian sausage, pepperoni, mozzarella, and more cheddar. Finally! Real pizza!

It didn't make me think of new names for the restaurant, but this half of the pizza certainly redeemed the other...except for the cheddar. Still, I could taste the spices in the crumbled sausage, the earthiness of the mushrooms, the grease of the pepperoni slices. There was still too much cheese, but I could stand it here; its taste was manageable.

The crust, in all honesty, wasn't that special to me. It was certainly better than many other crusts I've tasted, but for this style pizza (hand-tossed, droopy slices), the edges could've been a little airier and a tad more chewy. To each his own, though.

After some reflection, If I were to eat Dr. Ho's pizza again (and I'm not saying I would), I would do two things: 1) specifically ask—nay demand—that they hold the cheddar, and 2) go there and eat it at the restaurant. Personally, I don't think it's worth the drive, but if the cheddar disappeared, and the ambiance was there, I might be able to more fully appreciate Dr. Ho's humble pies.

* In case you're curious, I was not asked to rename the restaurant. It's probably for the best.

Christian's

subject: Christian's Pizza
take-out vehicle: 12"x12" box
cost: $6

Having not worked farther than 3 blocks away from there since 2002, I've had my fair share of Christian's pizza. In fact, Christian has been feeding me since he first opened under the "Sylvia's" banner back in '95 (I think). In all, it's probably best not to guess how much I've had, but I think it's safe to say that my share has been a wee more than just fair. Though his pizza (SPOILER ALERT!) continues to be good, I have to say that I miss the man himself.

For years, there was a certain excitement to ordering from Christian. The long single-file line usually obscured the oft-changing selection of pies, and over the surrounding chit-chat there was the very regular, and often quite loud, call for "Next!" (I wouldn't be the first to liken him to Seinfeld's soup nazi). Customers had but seconds to decide before being singled out and subjected to the stressed-out stares those around them. It was fun.

Unfortunately, I haven't seen christian shout "Next!" in quite some time. Though the faces are friendly and familiar, the experience just isn't the same.

Anyway, on this visit, I opted for two slices: one pepperoni and one with spinach, feta, tomato, and mushrooms.

The pepperoni slice was great. It was greasy, cheesy, droopy, foldable, and the pepperoni had a wonderful, spiced flavor. (Sigh) If only there were more. Still, the grease distributed the pepperoni's flavor across the slice well, and the tastes of the ingredients (crust, sauce, cheese, meat) were perfectly balanced.

Ihe other slice, while still good, was definitely the lesser of the two. With no grease to speak of, the texture came mostly from the crunch of the crust and the creaminess of the melted feta. The tomatoes added a slight bit of much-needed acidity, but the mushrooms, I was sad to realize, seemed to have come from a can. They were wet, off-puttingly smooth and shiny, and just incongruous with the other fresh ingredients beside them. And the spinach, though colorful, seemed perfunctory. Decent food, to be sure, but with wasted potential. Were it up to me, I would ditch the mushrooms all together, add a haphazard drizzle of aged balsamic, and perhaps some roasted carrot slices.

Will I go back? Of course, though I'll be hesitant to order the spinach/feta slice. It's just not worth it when compared to other, much tastier options.

I guess that's it for my inaugural post...next!