The Late Night Slice Manifesto
Every week, there are things about the places I eat at and write about that don't neatly fit in or perfectly suit the article I'm writing. This week, it seemed even more so than usual.
F'r instance: Upon walking up to Late Night Slice once, I noticed a jellified, barely conscious guy slumped over in one of the concessionaire's plastic chairs. There appeared to be a half-chewed piece of pepperoni glued to his jaw by a gob of pizza sauce. All of the sudden, the dude started doing one of those booze-fueled, loose-necked, Bobblehead Bounces, and he sorta startled himself awake. I saw his eyes open up to me observing him and I quickly looked away. Too late.
Because he immediately walked right up to me like we were old friends in the middle of a conversation and he said "Don't get the Pizza Dawg, I got it last week and it was a mistake. Don't do it."
"What's a Pizza Dawg?" I asked. But he just muttered, and made his wobbly way up to the front of the seven or eight person line. At which time he pulled out his iPhone and tried--unsuccessfully--to convince everyone who came up for a slice to also order a Pizza Dawg and let him photograph them biting into it.
When it came my turn to order, not only had the guy forgotten about talking to me, but he actually tried his Pizza Dawg routine again, saying, "No really, it's great, lemme take a picture."
I didn't order it, but I did find out what it was: A slice of 'za bearing a split-open hot dog filled with pepperoni laid down its middle. The fusionized junk food drill is to eat this puppy folded up, like a gyro. Or at least that was the explanation I was given by the LNS worker -- she coulda been pulling my leg. That seems to happen a lot here, which is one reason LNS is so much fun. Others are: a healthy disregard for decorum and taking itself seriously--which is manifested in numerous F-bomb drops (even in an in-house description of the pizza) plus an overall "screw you, uptight people", in-your-face attitude; and, oh yeah, the possibility that at any moment, a band might break out playing in the parking lot (scroll down for Bonus Video!).
(Not the Pizza Dawg, but a very credible slice of pepperoni)
Also not the Pizza Dawg, but a credible pet
As for Captain Cream Cheese, I went there one bleary morning after a night where I'd just about gotten Pizza Dawg drunk. Confused by most everything, including the way the Captain's handwritten menu worked, I luckily wound up ordering one of his yeasty, homemade Big Italian bagels with cheese (FYI: "cheese" here means a comforting mass of melted cheddar) plus an omelet-ish egg and bacon "patty" (fried to order) and a "shmear" of his homemade Hocking County ramp cream cheese (potent, like the long-living progeny of leeks & garlic). Man, was that good eating!
And that Big Italian proved to be The Sandwich That No Hangover Could Survive! Thanks, Cap'n.
On the Pita Hut front, one thing I left out of my article was their handmade "meat pies." They're more of a bakery item flavored with meat than a sandwich, but they are pretty to look at and a pure pleasure to eat! Do not be put off by the semi-grimness of the Hut's "ambiance"--this place makes some great tasting food!
That's all for now, but if you wanna chat some more later, you might just find me well after sundown one evening this weekend wearing a sheepish grin in line at Late Night Slice, ready try that Pizza Dawg.