The Buckhead militia was out in full force on a recent Friday night. Every girl was wearing almost the same outfit. Note: if you're a fat chick, don't wear black tight yoga-style riding pants with high brown boots and a denim shirt that acts like a mini dress. Those thighs were wearing out the already thin see-through material. Don't even think about bending over to pick up that napkin you just dropped, Bossy. I don't wanna see DuDu through those LuLu's. But anyhooha, this newly opened pizza joint was packed like hookers at a Secret Service party. It's obvious they're not here for the pizza, it's the scene they want to inhale...Except the fat chicks wanted to inhale the 'ZA. Shit, put me on that list as well, my muffin top needs more yeasty stumps for my lump.
The place is built out in the standard corporate fashion, not a lot of personality but it has clean lines, plenty of space, semi long wrap around bar, and two over-sized wood burning pizza ovens. When I say over-sized, it's really for looks more than function. You never want a giant oven where the cooking area (dome) has too much space, you want thick insulation or else you will never maintain that high temp constantly and putting out consistent product. The two ovens are really ridiculous, it's almost Willy Wonka-esque. What about the 'ZA??? Well, we'll just have to take a journey into the pouch then won't we...
Old Fashioned. So... I'm waiting for my drink and in the mean time I'm making observations around the joint. Three millenial broads dressed in unison at the next table, MK bags, the high brown boots, the works... Shit is gonna go down up in this piece with these three. Two of the three pies arrive, they let it sit there trying to be polite. Bitch, this ain't fine dining, it's pizza, you gotta eat that pie hot since no one is eating their's. The third comes out 8 minzies later, the other pies are now cold. Like it matters because all three skanks took 15 minutes to eat 2 slices each minus the crust, not even wanting to try the other pies. Watching each other to make sure they eat the same amount so they don't look like pigs in public. They each box up the rest. No fucking way they are full on 2 tiny frozen Totino's size slices, no fucking way. One broad is like 5'10" and 160 lbs, you know she will inhale the rest of her pie in 3 seconds like 2 lines of blow when she gets home. Another broad was like 3 apples high and 170 lbs, she will prolly finish the rest off in the bathroom and pretend to have left the box in the shitter by accident after they get to the car. You just can't make this shit up. This was a story that had to be told... To my one reader. And on that note, my drink finally arrives...
A decently executed OF... But drinking on these tiles bring back repressed memories when I fell off the wagon and found myself slumming it with a bot of Black Currant Mad Dog 20/20 in one hand and a half eaten roast beef sando with extra horsey sauce on the bathroom floor at an Arby's. I coulda really used some Polynesian sauce, wait, wrong fast food joint. Make the pain go away... A few more of these surely will.
House-Made Lamb Sausage. So, I ordered the 13th pie, they were out of that. How the fuck can they be out of that if it's a chef's choice? Just make something the fuck up and trick me with it. So, then I tried the Iberian pie which was also not available because they ran out of soffritto... Yeah, fucking soffritto, an Eyetalian version of mire poix. What's the deal with soffritto on pizza? My guess is prolly these fucking Lumbersexuals' fault at the bar, I heard they like anything that's rustic. So, I got this pie instead. Look at this specimen. What is going on with the puffy crust, is it stuffed with bacon and cheez like Pizza Hut? I hope so because this looks like it should come with a puffy shirt, but what's with the bite mark on the right... Did Remy make this pie or did a pizza maker slap his purple helmet on the dough like how artists sign their works. I smell a rat. The few nubbins of sausage were decent, the sauce was scarce and bland, the rest of the fillers were forgettable, decent char but the over-sized crust was just a way to cut down on the amount of toppings within that 8" diameter inside. It's all about cost control, people. Was it horrible? No. But it didn't exactly make me soil my underpants either. It's like how you feel when you wait for something for so long that you don't even care how it tastes, it's just something to shove into your mouth and chew like a mindless cow. I did just that.
Look at that man bulge... Or is that Kate Moss' kneecap? I wonder if her kneecap is just as chewy. I assume so from working all that gluten on the catwalk.
Spotted Trotter Guanciale & Farm Egg. Ok, this sounds good on paper. Shit, egg on anything sounds good to me. When it came out, I was like... Where are we, Panera? I didn't order a fucking salad bread bowl. Then I realized it was a pizza. Oh, my bad... Anyone could have made that mistake. I like frisee but Jesus, I don't need a muff size amount of it like in a 70's porno. Even Seka woulda trimmed that down a bit. I do like the egg, but no fucking way that came from a farm, try the back of a Sysco truck. The roasted onions was nice but the bland sauce and elephantiasis crust was still annoying the fuck outta me. For the people who don't eat the crust, you'll be shit outta luck getting halfway full with the rest of the mid-teens priced 'ZAs. Seriously, reduce the size of the outter crust and trick out your sauce a little bit more and then you'll have a halfway decent pie.
The other pizza joints need not worry about new competition, hell, Don Antonio by Starita isn't even a threat. This place is all show and no blow... It's like going to a club and they're dry. It's just a place for the millenials to see and be seen. It's basically a pissing contest in here. At best it's a place to kill time with a bite and a few drinks before going to your final destination. The food here is just for conversation. Just make sure they have plenty of to go boxes. They're gonna need it.
250 Buckhead Ave., Suite 317
Atlanta, GA
678-791-1313
http://thirteenpies.com/
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