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| - At last, a wood-fired pizza that makes sense of all things nonsensical.
Its crust, thinner than Kate Moss when she was in her heroin chic phase.
Its toppings, imported from Parma and all places Italy.
And the sauce, sneakily unobtrusive, not attracting attention to itself which is more than I can say for the typical Scottsdale posers who light here.
Throw in a hug and a kiss from a 1500 degree wood-fired oven and you've got a pizza fit for, well, me.
The servers are friendly and attentive.
Their prices are fair, considering the location and quality of the food.
One drawback, the parking.
There are less than a dozen parking spots outside the restaurant, which means you'll likely have to park across the street in The Village's parking lot. No biggie.
There's no traffic to speak of so crossing the street means dick when that old soccer limp flares up.
If you're going to plan a visit, wait until fall when all the snowbirds flock to town.
I rather enjoy having Grazie all to myself this time of year.
If you do visit in summer, leave your little brats at home. I can get enough of that shit at Grimaldi's where all the DC Ranch shitheels parade their a-hole kids around like its a kiddie pageant.
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