A little love for Chicago-style pizza: Visit to Pizano's

Pizza, like with hamburgers, has taken on an evolution over the past one hundred years. They have become staples in the American diet, molding into new forms the way art does. Blues and jazz each have their respective specialties from region to region - same is true of pizza. Now as much as I consider Anthony Bourdain an insightful cultural writer and a pithy, if not pessimistic commentator, I cannot agree with him that my Chicago-style pizza is a 'lasagna" of sorts. True that Italian pizza's for hundreds of years were a combination of reused elements, at times as simple than even the greasiest slice of NYC style. Since the Malnati family introduced the deep dish pizza, the Chicago-style regulars of Gino's, Lou Malnati's, Pizzari Uno's, Giordano’s, have become favorites for their hearty combinations of thick sauce, meat, fresh vegetables, with over several pounds of dough at times. Lasagna it is not, neither is it for obese people bent on killing themselves. NYC pizza isn't just street food and for my money, I'm still not sold on high end pizza that only ends up becoming satisfying because they are served with a far better accomplishment of an American micro-brew.


I took in a visit to another deep dish establishment of Chicago called Pizano's. Ally and I found our way there after I was disappointed to see that the Berghoff was closed on Sundays, and that the high-end Atwood Cafe at the Burnham hotel (adjacent to Macy's on State) was well booked. Our day had been occupied with a duty of mine to visit the Field Musuem of Natural History to brush up on an assignment I had ordered my students to undertake there. Being a third choice, Pizano's was as good as a number one.


The mozzarella sticks were nothing special. However, the two slices we each had of the pizza cured our hungry appetites. I find that Pizano's is fairly close to Lou's - not too much sauce, the dough isn't as heavy as Gino's, and you can taste the fennel in the sausage the vinegar from the spinach that gradually congealed with all of the flavors. Oh, and did I mention mozzarella? A proper dashing of oregano and shredded romano and that mozzarella takes the slice of this heavy pie over the edge. We ordered the small because we thought that our bellies would still have a crevice of space left over for a chocolate pie, sauce, and ice cream - let the fat Chicagoan jokes roll. Needless to say, we huffed our way nine blocks back to our Metra train to work off some of the meal. Let's hope the oolong tea I'm brewing actually does aid in digestion.