Promised Delivery Time: 45 minutes
Actual Delivery Time: 33 minutes
Easy Order Taking: 10
Partially Mucking Up My Order: 5
Repeatedly Being Told "God Bless You" By Delivery Driver: 30
Having to Eat Without Raccoons and Possums Begging for Food at My Feet: 30
If you like this story, consider signing up for our email newsletters.
SHOW ME HOW
You have successfully signed up for your selected newsletter(s) - please keep an eye on your mailbox, we're movin' in!
I have a problem. Being a former New Yorker and once living in Italy, I have high standards for pizza. The closest I have come to New York and/or Italian pizza is that from Jay Jerrier's mobile pizza-oven operation, Il Cane Rosso. Jerrier's pies blow my mind! I have another problem. Being new to Dallas, I haven't had much opportunity to scope out restaurants with a delivery service. I did, however, find Roma's Pizza & Restaurant, a joint where the local wildlife begs for food at the feet of diners unlucky enough to be seated on the porch. I could have ordered the pasta sampler (lasagna, manicotti and ravioli), something that would most assuredly be a gluten-heavy gut bomb drowned in disastrous, lukewarm sauce. But not having eaten pizza since munching greedily on Cane Rosso's Capricciosa, I chose the 12-inch prosciutto pizza, one of the eatery's signature pizzas. The online menu promised it would come topped with prosciutto, extra virgin olive oil, whole-milk mozzarella, ricotta, feta and gorgonzola.
Ordering over the phone was a debacle worse than when friend and I attempted to order dumplings at a Flushing, Queens, Chinatown shack where only Cantonese was spoken. Thankfully, the pizza arrived at my apartment in a shorter amount of time than it took to place the order. Our delivery driver was so friendly, he said "God Bless You" three times--and nobody had sneezed.
I retreated to my dining room, opened the box and exclaimed, "fangul!" In front of me was indeed a pizza with prosciutto -- and broccoli, roasted red peppers, fresh garlic and a mess of unidentifiable cheeses. I'd rather be locked in the bathroom with my mother-in-law's schnauzer, a dog that barks at the sound of a sneeze, than eat broccoli. The broccoli was quickly picked from the pizza and three-pointered into the trashcan. At first bite, I was punched in the teeth by the overwhelming salinity of the slice. But I was hungry. My only sustenance that morning was two cups of coffee. I needed to eat. I dug in. Three slices later, I looking around for some raccoons who might be interested in the rest.
Roma's Pizza & Restaurant
7402 Greenville Ave.