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| - It was a Saturday afternoon when I got the call that my parents were stopping over on their way home. And, "Could we do dinner at your place?"
Having spent a large chunk of our day cleaning the basement, 2 tired, smelly individuals didn't feel like washing up to go out or like throwing together an impromptu meal for the 'rents. Not wanting to disappoint, we scrambled for a solution. Being Pittsburgh pizza veterans, but not yet having had the iconic "Vinnie Pie," we decided to take leap and order from the newly remodeled original Pizza Park on Ardmore. We hoped that its reputation lived up to its legendary yet controversial status, as my parents are quite the connoisseurs of a hand-made pie.
I called to order, and a cheerful sounding voice took my order for a large pepperoni quickly and said it would be 30 minutes. Thinking that a large wouldn't be enough for 4 people, as my dad can annihilate a large pizza himself in one sitting, I called back a few minutes later to tack on another medium with sausage. Little did i know how that would turn out.
$30 worth of pizza and a delicious smelling car ride later, we knew we were in for an experience. I was all but crushed under the weight of the two pies in my lap in the passenger seat. No kidding. It took dedicated restraint not to immediately rip into the grease spotted, hot paper-covered cardboard slabs as we sped home.
Upon dismantling, we realized that the amount we ordered was laughably ridiculous. It would have covered the republican electoral states on a playground-sized topography of the Americas. It fully encompassed our good sized kitchen table and filled the house with a heavy, meaty perfume.
Overstuffing ourselves to near sickness was a mission that instantly overtook us all. The only sounds ringing out for the next half hour would be the ripping of parchment and the chewing and tearing of four adults who had simultaneously lost their collective gastronomic willpower, and all respectable table manners.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly what makes the Vinnie pie so special. I took to the pepperoni pie especially well, and can honestly admit that my memories of devouring it are almost embarrassingly hazy, a reaction usually saved for only the most pleasurable of culinary experiences. I presume that this dreamlike state is induced due to a combination of the following elements: The baguette-style, chewy crust, buried under a copious blanket of salty, succulent pepperoni and cheese with just the right amount of tangy, savory sauce. The grease factor is simply a delicious result of the unbelievably generous pepperoni-per-square-inch ratio that is unlike any we had ever experienced. The sheer amount of thick, chopped peperoni on each slice was enough to clog your proverbial arteries with just the smell alone. Impressive.
Exhausted and over-fully satisfied an hour later, it took longer to wrap the lavish leftovers than it took to gorge ourselves past full capacity. We later lived out a delicious, gluttonous work week of leftover Vinnie pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, after sending the parents home with over half of the excess bounty.
Needless to say, we hope to return again for a dine-in experience at the Pizza Park, this time fully prepared after 3 days of fasting and at a time nowhere near swimsuit season.
From all of us Pittsburghers, your legacy lives on- thank you Vinnie, thank you.
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