The Grotto 4th and Adams Streets (610) 867-1741

After the molto bene rating we gave to Alpha Pizza Pi, self-described "BPMs" (bigga pizza mavens) from various leaning towers on campus touted the Grotto as a purported contender. We tried to sample their cheesy fare on a Monday night earlier in the semester but they are closed on Mondays. Our expectations heightened, we chose a night when the full moon's light hit our eye like a big pizza pie to fete at the Grotto. The conclusion: "It could have been a contendah."

The Grotto was different from the other pizza houses we have reviewed. The dining room was softly lit; the tables were covered with blue-and-white tablecloths; chairs were comfortably wooden (no metal, vinyl seat coverings, and formica here). A full-service bar served Sierra Nevada Pale Ale on tap (the Chateau Latour of American beers, according to Jackson, Pocket Guide to Beer, Simon & Schuster, 1991, p. 154) for those in the know and of legal age, like Kathleen Sullivan, Esq., a post-doc in school law with my colleague Perry. A big-screen TV was showing Jeopardy. Our server was a seasoned pro who didn't kill you with kindness, a la "Hi, I'm Michelle, I'm your server this evening." On balance and to our semi-chagrin, the Grotto qualifies as a date, rather than strictly pie, place.

We deviated from our "SOP" (standard operating procedure) of inviting only one undergraduate and one graduate student. Influenced by the elasticity of scoring during the ice dance competition at the Nagano Olympics, we expanded our judging panel to an indisputable level of peerless preeminence: Emily Moy '01; Laurie Gordon and Nichole Johnson, graduate students in counseling psychology; Natalie Foster, professor of chemistry and visiting prof of pizza from Star Fleet Academy; and Sharon Yoshida, accidental student around campus; and the abovementioned Kathleen.

We ordered three large pies -- one plain, one with mushrooms and pepperoni (for the love of spice, girls, we skipped the sausage and fennel this time), and one with anchovies (despite dissentful, if not resentful, "yughs") on a half. If size means anything, we should have taken the hint when a large pie was listed for $5 ("fi-dollah" in New Yorkese). What arrived was larger than a personal petite, but certainly not an industry standard large. Perry and I were skeptical that these pies could satisfy the appetite of this group. In the end, our panel seemed contented with the amount ordered, but they may have just been too polite to be porcine.

For the first time in the judging panel's collective pizza-eating career, which spans aeons of gustatory consumption, we ate pies that were served on metal grates, which provided some breathing space literally and figuratively above the standard metal tray. Our server explained that the pies were not cooked on the grates but were placed on them, fresh out of the oven to keep the crusts crisp. We deduced, with help from Natalie's scientific methodology, that the air flow wafting below reduces the condensation that leads to that deadly syndrome commonly referred to as "droopy crust."

My diagnostic technique, the "DCT" (droopy-crust test) is important for those of us who don't want the inevitably grease-spot razzing from the dainty dilettantes who insist on slice-dicing, i.e., eating pizza with a fork and knife. For the uninitiated, the proper DCT technique is to fold the slice in half on its vertex (the long way for angle dangle). Non-dainty (i.e., bona fide) pizza lovers should expect the tip to be straight so that they don't have to twist their heads to eat it. Each 5 degrees of droop leads to a one-eighth penalty, according to the Royal Society of Delicious Judiciousness's official rating manual (also known mathematically as "wry pi" scoring).

Emily, who hails from Owings Mill, Maryland (the home of Louie Rukeyser's dough-making TV program) quickly grasped the importance of such details and, citing the special grating, focused on the crispness o' crust criterion. Serving as the subterranean spelunker apropos to the Grotto, she examined the under side with her special helmet light and concluded that despite its flatness, the crust was one point away from awesome crispidity.

Next came the drip test. Our panel members pointed their slices downward in concert. No grease spots appeared on the tablecloth, even with the pepperoni pizza. The pepperoni was plentiful -- nice round pieces unlike Southern style in which pepperoni are ground up to be like bacon bits, according to Nichole's well traveled experience including the Atlanta underground. Fresh mushrooms were duly noted with appreciation, and the anchovies were appropriately placed after the baking process, although perhaps too much after. They didn't blend into the cheese but were literally toppings on the cheese.

We had mixed opinions about the sauce and cheese. The sauce appeared to be made of fresh tomatoes but it lacked pizzazz. Natalie opined that the cheese was resilient owing to the polymeric structure of the compound. In terms of quantity, however, we agreed that the cheese was a bit on the short side. One suggested solution was to order extra cheese. But, undergraduates on a limited budget should not be forced to use one of their degrees of freedom on this option.

Our panel members were pretty consistent in their ratings. Using Olympic scoring, we hand-tossed out the high and low scores (6 and 4, respectively) and ended up with a 5-slice rating. Perhaps our expectations were too high for those of us Moonstruck on the Grotto. Ah, Mon Sunny Cher.

Reviewed by:
Ron Yoshida, Dean of the College of Education
Perry Zirkel, Iacocca Professor of Education
Emily Moy, a freshman,
Laurie Gordon and Nichole Johnson, graduate students in counseling psychology,
Natalie Foster, professor of chemistry,
Kathleen Sullivan, Esq, post-doctoral student in school law,
Sharon Yoshida, guest reviewer

The Grotto, 4th and Adams Streets, (610) 867-1741, FAX (610) 867-8662.
Open Tuesday thru Saturday from 4 p.m.-10 p.m.

This review originally appeared in The Brown and White at Lehigh University.