Novel Pizza Chicago Novels & Stories

I'm so proud of you, Gianna The sentence settled somewhere deep inside my chest. Across the table, Jules was arguing with Salvatore about New York pizza. Apparently this was now a matter of life and death, "I'm telling you it's better." Salvatore looked deeply offended, "Better than what?" "Chicago pizza." His face tightened immediately, "That is not pizza. It is a casserole calling itself pizza." Jules poured, "Papa, you haven't even tried it." Salvatore waved his hand dismissively, "I am Italian. I do not need to try crimes to identify them."

The doorbell rang and Nova shouted from the kitchen, “That’s the peesh—the pizza. Could you garb it? I’ve already prepaid. The tip is on the table in the foyer.” “Yeah, I’ll garb it.” I stumbled my way through the dimly lit lounge, using my hands to steady myself against the walls and furniture. The alcohol made my head blissfully light, and for the first time since running out of my potion I cared about absolutely nothing. Scratch that, I cared about the pizza I could smell wafting in from the front porch. My mouth watered at the thought of biting down on a slice. I fumbled with the lock, growling under my breath as it took me several tries to undo them. The pizza guy didn’t seem to mind. I

“I used to come here with my friends from school so often that late papa Joey threatened to throw us out forever,” Jack chuckled at the memory, “but he never did. I continued coming here with my friends from college too. When you see the joint from the outside, you would never guess that they make the best pizza in the city.”

Miguel yells to one of the employees at the back. Charlie moves out of the way as the small man scurries past her. "So, Charlie? The usual?" Charlie nods albeit eagerly, "Yes please." Miguel nods before walking to the cooler and pulling out a freshly made perfectly cut pizza. By the time he gets back, Charlie is already sitting comfortably on the barstool in front of an empty counter. "Here you go. A pepperoni with mushrooms and extra cheese pizza specially made for mí Charlie." She playfully rolls her eyes before thanking Miguel and taking a bite from the warm slice.

She laughed looking out of the window. “Well what haven’t you done that you want to do?” “Eat a deep dish pizza.” Kenya blurted. “I know the exact place.” I drove just a short stretch down Michigan Avenue to the other side of the Prudential Building to a great pizza place, called Giordano’s. I felt if she wanted to eat deep dish pizza, she needed to try the best. We entered and were able to grab a booth as most of the tables were already full. “I like the ambiance here. It’s comfy and cozy.” Kenya looked around with a smile plastered on her face. She was a beautiful young woman, around my age, who wanted to launch her business just like I did.

“Are you hungry?” “Starving.” “I assumed so. We can get the famous Chicago pizza you like. Oh! Or try fried rice with cheese. What are you in the mood for?” “Other than you? Pizza.” “I knew it. And good, because I made us a reservation.” * I grab my lemonade, sliding it in front of me, and take a drink. Even with the wind, the walk from the hotel to the restaurant was a warm one. I’m sitting across from Archer, and we’re waiting on our pizza to come. Neither of us has said much, and the conversation ceased halfway here.

We created the craft of patience, especially when it came to protecting our people. "You know we can both play this waiting game. But the longer you sit here and keep your mouth shut. The longer you go without food, and I brought pizza." I walked over to the door and grabbed the box of pizza I had Lincoln order half an hour ago. It was the best pizza around. Christopher Fratello owned their own restaurant, one of the pack members, and the recipe he used had been passed down through generations. And I know pizza is pizza. Wrong. This pizza was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten, and I grew up in Gardenia, where Fae food was claimed to be the most deliciously sourced food around. Once y

I was going to say you could start by charming her with pizza, but not like that,” Granny says. She sniffs the air. “You got anything normal in that stack?” “There’s a pepperoni with mushroom and spinach, a cheese with extra pineapple, a meat lovers with extra bacon, extra cheese, and extra meat, a buffalo chicken with broccoli, mushrooms, and alfredo sauce, and one taco with extra sour cream and lettuce,” Binksky rattles off. He’s basically a human hard drive. I’d say encyclopedia, but I’m not sure people know what those are anymore.

We actually had a pleasant time and took a boatload of pictures. Aww sweet memories.. Afterwards we went around the city to my favorite places to eat. Where my Godmother Keya used to take me all of the time. Giordano's pizza, is the best deep dish pizza in the world! Garrett's gourmet popcorn, the Chicago mix is the absolute best, it's cheddar, butter and caramel mixed. AL's #1 Italian beef is the best ever! And Vienna beef makes the tastiest beef hotdogs and polishes on the planet!

“Well, I have family in Illinois who would wholeheartedly disagree. Chicago has pretty good pizza, too.” “That age-old debate was obviously settled from your first answer. Chicago’s pizza is deep-dish. Real pizza comes from New York.”