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| - What is pizza? If it doesn't have cheese, is it be pizza? What about no tomato sauce? Are flatbreads pizzas? These are the sort of philosophical questions that you stop asking yourself after you bite into a slice of Grampa's. I lived for a stint in New Haven, where pizza is a religion and which denomination/restaurant you prefer speaks about the state of your soul. Grampa's pizzas really stretch the definition of what is pizza. I mean it's Willy Street, what would you expect? I had the "Brassacre" (BRASS-acre? BRASS-a-ker? Bra-SACR?), which involved brussels sprouts, bacon, olive oil, and garlic. Incredibly flavorful, and the bacon+garlic+olive oil was phenomenally fragrant. The wait was really long, but guess what? Leave your number, then pop over next door to Gib's, my favorite bar in all of Madison, and enjoy a libation until they call you! And while I didn't get to take a close look, it seems that they have an extensive wine menu that a lot of patrons enjoyed. Cocktails, wine, pizza - I can't imagine a holier trinity.
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