The pizza of my childhood, here it is. For some reason we always used to order from here. I don’t know why, because I suspect that other place were better (at least they are now). But the pizza is OK, the cheesesteaks are better, and we used to get gyros sometimes, back in the days when they were called jai-row instead of jee-row.
It’s a time warp inside. I swear this hasn’t changed in 25 years. It’s some credit to the owners, in fact, because it doesn’t feel any more dirty or tired than it ever did. You have to respect that. Now, the owners aren’t Jim and Mike. If I understand correctly, they sold out years ago, moved down south and opened the Olympia, which I conveniently blogged last year (and visited again this year, 3 days after J+M’s).
Today’s installment in the ‘stuff is f-in huge in America’ series is the coke. I mean, someone has small hands, but that’s still dramatic.
Even more dramatic is how good the fries were. If you go to one of the pizza places around Pitman, make sure to hassle them to fry the fries a little longer. Say ‘extra crispy’ or something. Otherwise the thickness of these can often lead to a mushy fry, and those are no one’s friend. These fries are very friendly. Perhaps too much.
And finally, we get to the pizza – just an extra-large with nothin’, and St. Sixtus with his hand out for a slice. What does this cost, $8 or so? It’s pretty good. The crust is thick and doughy, not at all in the Napolitan vein that prevails in high-end Japanese places. But actually quite similar to Japanese Domino’s. Except fresher, realer, and altogether better.
Cuz that’s America – fresh, real, and altogether bigger. Better. Whatever.
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