We went here in on a date, about 10 months before we were married. We hadn’t been back since — until our July 1 trip to Chicago.
It’s just as we remembered it, a small dark room on the lower floor of an old brick building a block west of Lincoln Park. Thirty years ago we sat in one of those booths on the right.
The place doesn’t serve traditional pizza — they serve a pizza pot pie — think pizza stew in a bread bowl. And think delicious.
It’s baked in a bowl with the bread on top, then flipped over by the waiter at the table.
It was awesome — and I wish I’d ordered the one-pounder. My niece and nephew both said it was the highlight of their day.