| rev:text
| - I swear I'm not on some demented mission to try every New York-style pizzeria in town then whine about the crust being, well, New York-style. This review shall be different! (Pinky swear.)
I live near Brothers, which until recently was Bella Lynda, which before that was Bella Lynda under different management, and before that it was Bella Sara. Although the names, decor, and menu have frequently changed over the past five years, one thing has not: the food.
But first, let's talk about the decor - what's with all of the maps of France juxtaposed with mob movie posters and a menu from a German Japanese restaurant? No, wait, don't answer, I don't want to use up my one phone-a-designer question on that. What I'd really like to know is what's with the pile of blankets overflowing near the back tables? Don't make me register "Bistro or Yard Sale?" dot com.
Snark aside, compliments first. The bald managerial guy? Extremely nice and clearly oriented to customer satisfaction. Guys behind the counter who gave us free garlic knots while we waited? Very hospitable and busy.
Delivery dude who kept aimlessly wandering around the front? A little odd.
Now let's talk about the red-headed woman, also seemingly a manager. The one sitting at the back table, leisurely reading what looked like credit card slips, surrounded by piles of small bills.
When we came in, she got up and gave us a brochure menu so we wouldn't have to squint at the tiny type on the back wall. Appreciated.
After about 20 seconds of us looking at the (multi-page) menu, she said she was going to sit back down. No problem. Mike was wary of the thin-crust pizza, but I spotted the "Sicilian" option of a thicker crust, so I decided to stick with pizza while he went down the block for Chinese.
The woman hopped back up when he left - it had only been another 30 seconds - as I continued to study the menu.
"What's your phone number?" "Um, why?"
She rolled her eyes. (Yes, she did.) "So we can look you up next time you come in and give you discounts if you're a frequent customer." All of this like I'm in 1st grade.
I gave her the number I use for these occasions and spelled out my first name. (Which she still spelled wrong as I saw later.) Of course, this prevented me from getting back to the crowded menu. So, imagine my annoyance when she finished typing and said, "So, what do you want?"
I laughed lightly and told her I was still narrowing it down. "Okay, what do you think you're narrowing it down to?"
I looked up, really surprised now by her impatience. I know some restaurant owners enjoy discussing the menu and being helpful, but she clearly just wanted me to hurry up. a curious attitude for a woman in any empty "bistro."
(More like a place that has nice tables to sit at while you wait for your takeaway box. If they want it to be more, maybe they should move those blankets.)
I said I'd like an extra-large mushroom pizza with a Sicilian crust and an order of garlic knots.
She started to punch it into the computer, repeating the order incorrectly. I corrected her. She spent a long time looking for the "extra-large" button on the screen. I noticed her photo in a frame on the counter. Okay, clearly an owner or manager, right? Goodness.
"Anything else?" "Garlic knots?" I reminded her. She laboriously punched it in. "You want the marinara sauce, right?" "What are my choices?" "The computer says ranch or marinara."
Maybe I misjudged her role despite the cash table, the photo, and her motorcycle watch indicating she might have something to do with the few biker knickknacks, but "the computer says" says it all.
She let me know that there was an extra charge for the Sicilian crust because "it's like they add a second dough to the crust." I only mention this because of what happened when the order was ready.
One of the behind-the-counter guys came out with two pizzas and the garlic knots. "Um, I only ordered one pizza," I smiled. (I always smile. Keeps me underestimated.) The guy said, "No, you got a mushroom and a Sicilian." "Oh," I said, and... chose not to fight the battle. Besides, having corrected me, he was already walking away. Oh.
On the one hand, they just lost money and I wasn't getting a thick-crust mushroom pizza, but I also just wanted to leave.
Back home I opened the box to an XL mushroom with crust so thin you could see through it, and a large, fluffy cheese pizza. My husband helped me transfer the mushrooms over.
How was it? Eh. The Sicilian's bottom crust was kind of hard, but the middle seemed only partially cooked. The quality of the cheese and mushrooms was fine, nothing special. The sauce was unremarkable but also inoffensive. The knots were smaller and harder than what we got while waiting and as greasy as the previous Bellas.
If you like your pizza "thin and soppy," are getting carryout, and the redhead isn't on duty, you could do worse than trying Brothers. For me, the quest continues.
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