2001 N. Lamar
Promised delivery time: 25 minutes
Actual delivery time: 30 minutes
It's a family-owned business: 40
Took 30 minutes instead of 25 to deliver: -5
A laid back attitude despite being the only remaining business in West End Marketplace: 50
A pizzeria with no pesto sauce: -20
No extra charge for adding spinach: 10
Forgetting the spinach: -10
Taking an order thirty minutes earlier than 5 p.m., when delivery officially starts: 35
Delivering a pizza on foot without using a heat bag on a freezing day: Priceless (or in this case: -20)
Total Score: 80
LA Gourmet Pizza47
I'm slightly anemic. At least this is one possible explanation for why I've been so tired lately. It beats the other explanations, anyway. And the solution, according to a Google search, is to eat more iron-rich foods. So I bought a large amount of kale, a green leafy vegetable packed with vitamins, and cooked it Sunday afternoon to accompany some beans and rice. This, I figured, would do it: I would have energy at last.
However, I ended up having to order pizza delivery.
Kale is actually harder to make palatable than you would think. Yeah, you just saute it in oil, garlic, and onions to give it taste...but not softness. It was too tough. Hungry and frustrated, I turned to America's favorite food service: pizza delivery. I would ask them to load up on the veggies instead.
Spiatzas Pizzeria is the only pizza delivery place in the West End. It's also the only business that exists in West End Marketplace building.
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It was 4:30 p.m. when I called. A young man, sounding barely awake, answered the phone. The order was delivered smoothly. I would have a large pizza, half pesto and black olives and half vegetarian, with spinach, in 25 minutes. But then he remembered something. "I'm sorry," he said. "I forgot we are out of pesto as of this morning." That's fine, I replied. Just don't forget the spinach. The delivery option wasn't supposed to begin until 5 p.m., but he went ahead and let me place the order.
Thirty minutes later, the same lackadaisical young man appeared at my apartment door. He dressed in slacks and wore a trim but thick beard. "I walked over here," he explained, and handed me a chilled, slightly open pizza box. I gave him a twenty and thanked him, very excited to finally eat. I opened the box. No spinach.
Oh well, the pizza smelled great, and I was happy to have something familiar.
See the final 2008 standings here.