The report back

The following is brought to you by FOCOT Mike L, who has been present at many of the gatherings that produced posts related to beer and the Brown Liquor Club, and who contributed one of the few (only?) posts from Utah so far. Pepe's celebrates its 85th anniversary this year. While I've mentioned it a few times on COT and know it's a favorite of many readers and contributors, I've never written anything about it, although, looking at my drafts, I found that I attempted to write something about this way back in 2006. No need to now, as Mike sent in this excellent piece of reportage in May after a multiday trip to New Haven. He asked for recommendations, which I happily supplied, and I asked for a report back. This makes its way to the blog now as I recover from a week's worth of noshing with my relatives. Thanks, Mike!

So Louis' is closed on Sun/Mon, meaning I won't rock that joint if Carter and I leave tomorrow. But Frank's Pepe has been an integral part of my life here in New Haven. If I ended up on Bones or CSI or something after getting whacked by some stressed out Yalie (it is finals season), they'd note that I consist of about 99.3% coal oven pizza. Yesterday I was going to head there before dinner and get a pie for takeout to eat after Carter went to bed (dining is tough when you're a traveling nanny), but Molly's legal war room was teeming with Frank's (though she didn't know that's what it was), so she texts me: "you want some pizza?" My response: "I just ate a sandwich, but is it yummy?" She knocks on the door and drops off some congealed stuff that looked like it was super amazing at some point. I say what the hell and ignore my stomach's fullness. Well, mouth won in a landslide. That stuff was the bomb. She basically kept bringing it all evening, as it got more and more congealed. I of course kept eating it. I think I've had basically all the heralded NYC joints, many of which I love a lot, and Frank undoubtedly rocks it with the best of them. The pep and mush slices I ate I could easily argue for eating any one part and being happy about - if all you had was the crust, you'd be perfectly happy. A bowl of the sauce? Tasty. Chunks of cooked pepperoni? Hellz yes. The parmesan caked on top of the pepperoni was drool-worthy. 

Sooooooo, then today Carter and I had to make a field trip, because the lawyers apparently feared the clam pie. That's why they're lawyers, I guess. We went there in the off hours so we could get in and out quick - he needed to be bribed with pureed pears to not get all babyish in there. Actually, he was awesome as usual, but I'm extremely biased.* Got a salad, a $2.50 Sam Adams that was in a Carter-sized glass (so the price was right, just not the quantity), and a "small" clam pie. Asked the waitress whether mozz was a good idea, she said no. She was right. It was perfect as it was. And since the small is laughably huge, I ate the rest for dinner. I'm not a huge clam dude, and their red sauce is so astounding I'd go more traditional the next 40 times I'd order, but I can't imagine anyone in the world rocks a clam pie like that. Definitely bit on a couple shells, but that's kind of a good sign, right? 

All in all, 4 out of my last 4 lunches and dinners have been supplied by Frank's. And I would have no qualms about going back for either meal tomorrow. 

How's THAT for a report back?

Mike

*Note: my son is the most ridiculously amazing human ever. This is an indisputable, empirical fact.