Luigi's Pizza
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Well, onward to the outer world of the Lehigh Valley in our search for pizza perfection. This stop in our divine journey was Luigi's Pizza and Restaurant, which is approximately six miles from campus conveniently contiguous to the Giant supermarket at Easton Avenue.
First, a brief postprandial digression to introduce a distinctive new feature to our methodology. First--and the real coup of postpositivist critical scholarship --to distinguish our review from all the faux imitators from outside the Academy, including Gene & Roger, we introduce footnotes.1 Voila.
We chose Luigi's from the a-sordid nominations based on a reliable report from a Bethlehem guru named "Yogi" (named after the Berra, not the Bear) that it was the site of a brick oven, which is the living womb of prime pizza. Lo and behold but, as Luigi himself explained, both ovens have Bethlehem Steel-type firebrick in the back and all four walls, thus reflecting the heat from every direction, not just up.
The result, as our expanded and expansive group of eight reviewers unanimously, not pusillanimously, agreed, is a humdinging, crackajack crust. Rob Volpe, our graduate student representative who sharpened his taste buds growing up on Arthur Avenue, the Little Italy of the Bronx, introduced a new test: checking the bottom of the pizza for a non-slick surface. His assessment, based on this palatably correct Tongue-Touch Test, was, roughly, "Bellisima." He impressed English major Jen Lackner by quiply adding that until that moment he had been Waiting for Gooddough. John Wilbur, who cut his cuspids on Pepe's and Sally's pizzas in New Haven, cryptically commented, "not half-baked," but I wasn't sure if he was referring to the crust or Volpe.
Luigi's more than fair fare also passed Ron's tried-and-true techniques with flying colors; his random-sample slice of the sausage pizza received an "incredible ... best so far" on the Droop Test, and a tandem sample of the mushroom pizza received an impressive "relatively dry, not awry" VG (verily goodsome) on the Drip Test.
The mushrooms (who you calling "fungi"?) were canned but by choice; Luigi explained that "da fresh give off too much water."The sausage was juicy, although Ron is still searching for fennel, whatever that is.
The sauce was, in Luigi's word, "gentle." He explained that his home establishment is in Queens2 across from Pratt Institute and near Spike Lee's house; that he was a philosophy major and, a la St. Thomas Aquinas, believes in proper proportionality; and that in Italy the key to good pizza is harmony. However, Roseann and Denise, who also have origins in the Roman peninsula, opined that the sauce needed a more robust diavolo-like flavor. Bob (aka Professor D'Big Cheese Thornton) nevertheless commended Luigi for blending his own "gravy" rather than engaging in the heinous labor practice of "out-saucing."
The cheese, according to Bob, who described himself as "not a crust man" (as attested by the pile of odds and ends on his plate), was "pretty good." This characterization is impressive not only because he is a member of the Chicago school of pizza, which is less deep than it's reputed to be, but more importantly because he is the first guest reviewer to ever arrive with a Thesaurus3 in hand. But he pointed out that the co-author of his volume was Bogus.
The ambience was friendly; Luigi and his associate, who dressed in Lehigh colors, provided the warmth in the stark space between the brick-oven hearth and the neon-lit windows.4 Jen praised the non-funereal service Bob liked "the view," but 1) he's from Chicago; 2) maybe he was talking about the t.v. show; and 3) he was sitting across from Roseann.
The menu includes a wide variety of pizza, including Hawaiian, Four Season, and Taco; sandwiches, including Chicken Parmigian (not to be confused with a Chick Ptarmigan); and specialities, including Steak Stromboli, Gnocchi with Broccoli Rabe; and Seafood Combo. The garlic rolls, which we scarfed down as an aromatic appetizer, were knot bad at all.
Although not listed on the menu, Luigi offered to share with appropriately aged patrons a complimentary (and complementary) glass or two of beer or wine: "I don't well it; we drink it." He also promised to arrange delivery, upon request, for groups of Lehigh students.
Both with and without Olympic scoring, the group of eight (the pi-like magic number in Mozzarella Mathematics) produced an overall rating of 7.0 slices. This is one mean (again in an arithmetic sense) feat, representing a tie for the highest rating in our (g)astronomic history. Kudos to Luigi; after all, he kneads the dough.
Reviewed by:
Ron Yoshida, Dean of the College of Education
Perry Zirkel, Iacocca Professor of Education
John Wilbur, sophomore from Guilford, CT;
Jen Lackner, junior and English major from Katonah, NY;
Rob Volpe, doctoral student in school psychology;
Roseann Corsi, public relations coordinator for Lehigh Athletics;
Denise Beslanovits-Stangl, Zoellner Arts Center museum registrar;
and Robert D'Big Cheese Thornton, Professor of Economics.
Luigi's Pizza and Restaurant,
2910 Easton Ave.
(610) 882-0882
Open Sunday thru Thursday
from 11:00 am to 10:00 pm;
Friday and Saturday from
11:00 am to 11:00 pm
Footnotes:
1 The beauty of footnotes is that they add that je ne sais quoi of refereed erudition. See, e.g., Hugh Biggbloehard & Sudo Intullekchewal, The Art of Nonpusillanimous Pedantry (Hypernaught Press, 1887). Moreover, as a keen critic observed last year, "no one bothers to read them." Interview with Andy Mouratis, April 17, 1998.
2 He proudly cited an article in the Queens edition of the New York Daily News (which sounded to Jen like the New York Deli News) that mentioned his establishment.
3 Sidney Landau & Ronald Bogus, The Doubleday Roget's Thesaurus (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1987).
4 See, e.g., Arthur Fonzarelli & Richard Cunningham, Happy Daze et Al's: A Guide to Modern Interior Decorating of Eating Emporia (Apocryphal Pub., 1950).
This review originally appeared in The Brown and White at Lehigh University in October, 1998.