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| - Our wait was five minutes, arriving at 4pm on a Friday and opting to sit at the bar. I hadnt been here in probably 14 years.
Both pizzas were a little disappointing. Very good certainly, but not out of this world. I still remember chomping into my first Wiseguy in the early nineties; how qualitatively better it tasted than any previous pizza. How explosive flavors mingled in my mouth and how my companion and I raved at how awesome it was after, literally, every bite.
None of that happened this time. Sure, the competition has dramatically stepped up but I say, respectfully, that the product has slipped a little. My outer crust was burnt, pretty badly actually. Some wood oven char is expected and I dont normally even eat the ring, but do wonder if Chris would've served this had he been on site. Companion's pie touted basil as a topping, but came with a tiny decorative leaf or two in the center. Disappointing.
Their olive oil is heavenly. Addictive. I'd lick it off Russell Pearce if that was an option. The caprese salad, drenched in that stuff, is a first class oral shindig.
The Anglo fellow tending Bar Bianco and Hispanic gentleman manning our restaurant bar both exuded the gentle, professional charm that makes dining out a pleasure. The hostess team was competent, but that whole dance of loitering inside a busy little restaurant to identify and engage them has always felt awkward to me. I guess I'm just shy and would prefer they stand under a spinning, electric umbrella, blinking "H-O-S-T-E-S-S".
But seriously, getting there 3:30 or so, now that they're open continuously from lunch, will reduce the legendary waits. That's a good thing, because regardless of the gloried past or my recollection of it, this is still a distinctive and mostly charming destination.
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