I went on a solo visit to DiSalla’s near my house. I’ve driven past this place a million times and I’ve always wanted to stop. I have a weakness for pizza, especially old hole in the wall non-chain places. I was only hoping the years of drivebys and dreaming of what the pie would taste like would not be ruined by the reality.
I was not disappointed. I mean, when you walk in and there’s a sign that says “Best pizza in the world. Not brag. Fact.” you know that these guys are gonna bring it. This is about as spartan a place as you can imagine. They sell pizza. That’s it. No salad. No sandwiches. No chips. Want a drink? There’s a Pepsi machine in the corner.
There’s one oven. That’s it. And big, metal pie pans so they can make their square shaped slices. So, I ordered off the same guy who was cooking, waited awhile in silence and took my pie to enjoy in the car. No seats. No paper towels. No ambiance.
What I really loved was this menu. This is it. It’s a fucking chart. How many slices, how many toppings, how much. Nice and easy. Order and get out seemed to be the order of the day.
There was one other person in working. An older woman slicing the pepperoni for tomorrow as she watched Law and Order. Again, ambviance.
But, dude. $2.14 for 3 thick slices of melty goodness? Who needs anything more than an old radio blasting WDVE and um, well, nothing else, really. I rate this a pretty good pie.
Luckily, next time I do this, Nina will be with me and the pictures and review will be so much better.