I love Papa Ceo's. When I lived in Mississauga, about 30 minutes west of T.O., I would drive into the city just to sink my teeth into a big-ass slice of fresh italian pizza. It was gourmet, long before gourmet "authentic" Italian pizza joints became trendy. It was a giant slice of heaven, whether it was 11 a.m. or 3 a.m. it didn't matter. I loved standing in the steaming little shop rowed by glass cases filled with steaming hot pizzas of every conceivable combination. Big ass pizzas, not your conservative 12-inch, like you get on menus these days, masquerading as large. Big-ass. And over two dozen choices. My favourite was Sophia Loren, a veggie masterpiece. I never really gave Cora's pizza next door any thought, until I learned of the friendly rivalry between the two places that often erupts late at night as drunk partiers line up for a slice. I once tried Cora's and it was excellent too, but pizza loyalty has a way of invading even your taste buds.