Maria's Pizza: The Quintessential Milwaukee Experience

I really owe the folks at Maria's an apology: on Friday, February 12th of this year, we visited, ate, laughed, took all of our obnoxious pictures, and I told the owner that the review would be posted in a week.

Well, dear readers, you're probably all familiar with how Eating Milwaukee goes on hiatus from time to time, so this shouldn't be a surprise to you. But for the folks at Maria's, if you're out there, I'm sorry... this is a long, long time coming!

So, with my groveling aside, let's talk Pizza, shall we?

Everyone in this city has a favorite pizza. That's fine. I'm not here to tell you that your favorite should be Maria's, any more than I'm here to tell you that Coke is better than Pepsi, or that Toyotas probably shouldn't be on your to-buy list. I'll leave that to the more (annoying) opinionated folks in the media. No, my job is not to inform you of what your opinion should be, rather, give you some options you may not have considered. I'm sure Maria's should be on that list.

I'm a dyed-in-the-wool North Sider, having been born and raised in the venerable Washington Heights neighborhood  (a point I think I've belabored in previous reviews). However, now in my third year of South-Side living, I've had to leave my North Side ways behind. I've had to branch out. I don't order Marco's every week like I used to.

When I was young, pizza was a treat, and it never came from a chain. No, never Pizza Hut (my mom thought the crust was too greasy, I agree). No Dominos (I think we all agreed the old mascot was creepy, and yes, the crust did taste like cardboard), nor Papa John's, which wasn't even in town at that point. It came from little, hole-in-the-wall pizza places like Hups, or Pete's. Hups is apparently still in business, Pete's went defunct a long, long time ago, though I still have vivd memories of the dark, dank dining room on 74th and Capitol, the small, visible kitchen with the prominently featured sheeter, and the frosted red plastic drink glasses. Oh, the memories!

Well, all of that came flooding back the first time I ever went to Maria's. It's like Déjà Vu all over again. Bright, Googie-styled neon signs out front, red plaid vinyl table covers, wood-paneled walls festooned with religious paint-by-numbers paintings... it's all there. Granted, Pete's didn't have such an extensive collection of art, but that's why Maria's is better. Clearly.

The concept at Maria's is a simple one: either get your pizza to-go, or sit down, and plan on sharing some space in the dining room. This is not an elaborate system. Pizzas are ordered on the size system, which is to say, Huge, Gargantuan, and Oh-God-Is-That-What-We-Ordered. Expect that, with the popularity of the restaurant, you may have a little wait ahead of you before your food is served. That's okay, because it gives you time to appreciate the dense and ever-changing décor of the dining room. You can come back every day of the week, and you'll still feel like Howard Carter, unearthing a painting you didn't know was there. 

The pizza is served in the "Milwaukee Party-Cut Style," which is to say an anomalous, amoeba-shape pie cut into rectilinear slabs. I like this -- I've always thought round pizza cut into pie-slices seems a little hard to eat. I appreciate the tradition, I just don't adore it. No, I was raised on Party-Cut, and I relish the finer points of it. First, the slices are more manageably sized, and easier to pick up, should you want to forego the knife and fork approach. Second, they're easier to roll in a pizza-burrito should you be one of those who has to order every topping on the menu. Third, not every piece is an end-piece, which should please non-end-piece fans, and cause those who love the crust to sweat a little... you're now in competition with everyone else at the table for those few, proud outer slices!

We started our meal with an order of garlic bread, which really speaks for itself. 

Simple, but sublime. Crispy on the edges, chewy inside, with just enough butter and garlic to let you know it's there. Not swimming, not overly oily, not really anything crazy -- just traditional, done-right garlic bread. Nope, the main attraction here is the pizza. And oh, what a pie:

You may notice that the pizza is hanging off the edges of the pan. This was no in error. The "Large" tends to roam where it wants to, and usually this involves flopping over the sides of the half-sheet. This alone makes me love the pie. And we're not even to the tasting portion...

We ordered a large sausage, onion, mushroom -- straightforward, but such a classic combination. There is something about the way Maria's sausage comes together with their cheese blend, perfectly seasoned, never-too-sweet sauce, and crisp crust that just makes magic. Say what you will about thin crust pizza, but Maria's has the recipe, and I haven't found anything quite like it yet.

The crust is exceptional: cracker thin, super crispy around the edges, just a bit forgiving in the center. The flavor is perfect, with that little bit of deck-oven-doneness that takes a pizza from just, "eh," to "aha!" The sauce is perfectly well balanced, a little spice, a little tart, a little sweet, a little salty. But everything in moderation, yet there's enough of it so that you don't forget it. 

I will say, our 'shrooms were, I believe,  the canned variety, which always makes me think of a Pennsylvania Dutchman can that used to live in our pantry as a child. No one dared actually use it... the thought of brined, canned fungus always kind of freaked me out. Those limp, leathery slices of 'shrooms seemed so sad, so lifeless. I sort of wished that the mushrooms on our pizza were fresh, but I guess you can't argue with half a century of tradition. 

Which is really the crux of Maria's. We go there because the pizza is awesome, but I really believe we keep coming back because of the people. The owners have been there every time I have, running between the tables, doling out pizza, bread, and pitchers of soda like it's going out of style. They are a force of nature, and while I will spare you the back story on the restaurant (you'll have to go in and read the back of the menu for that, or better yet, ask!), it is a heartwarming tale that brought them to this point, although punctuated, as they always are, with adversity. 

And that's what makes Maria's such a jewel: a tiny, hole-in-the-wall pizza joint cranking out awesome pies the old-fashioned way, with no glitzy toppings, no hip soundtrack or décor (although I would be willing to bet we could call the dining room Hipster Chíc, which says something about youth culture...), and no pretense. 

I will keep coming back to Maria's, as long as they see fit to stay open (and with business the way it is, I can't imagine why they wouldn't!). I like eating at restaurants with great food, but I love it when that food is the restauranteur's passion, and their lifeblood, and I can't think of any establishment that better embodies this than Maria's. 

Report Card:
Atmosphere: A 

It's crowded, loud, chaotic, and an acid-soaked sea of color and paintings of the Christ. You'll absolutely love it or it'll drive you bonkers. I think it's wonderful.

Prices: A-

Prices for a large pie are pretty much in line with other family-run pizza places. 

Service: B

Being as busy as they are, don't be offended if you're not waited on hand-and-foot. You'll get your pie, just calm down.

The Food: A

Fantastic, true-t0-life Milwaukee pizza. If you're looking for one of the last of an era, Maria's is it!

The Details:

Maria's Pizzaria

5025 W. Forest Home Ave.

Milwaukee, WI 53219

(414) 543-4606

Eating San Diego: Roscoe's House of Chicken N Waffles - Hollywood

There are few things that make my heart go pitter-patter (or flatline, for that matter), than soul food. Sure, I may be a slightly suburban, soft-around-the-edges white boy, but there is something deeply comforting and entirely satisfying about soul food. I wouldn't be so naïve to say that I understand it, because I think that would be presumptuous. But I do think I "get" it, on a basic level. Every culture has its own brand of comfort food: I recall all of the German and Polish dishes served in my childhood, the cabbage rolls, stuffed peppers, rouladen, dumplings, and every manner of pickled vegetables from the garden.

Which is why I hold Southern soul food so dear: it brings back so many memories by proxy.

While in L.A. on Monday, Kevin and I made a stop at the famous Roscoe's House of Chicken N Waffles in Hollywood. Much to our dismay, there was quite a line outside, and parking was at a premium. We ended up parking at a meter-less spot about two blocks up, right outside of a weed dispensary (what better way to set the mood for fried chicken?).

When we approached the door, Kevin was quick to bring me up to speed with Roscoe's entrance etiquette: the door is roped off for a reason. Inform the bouncer how many are in your party, gracefully thank him, then move the hell out of the way and wait for him to call your name. We did just that, and about two minutes later, he returned, a harried look on his face, and said to Kevin, "Two? Quick, get in here, go to that table..."

I'm not sure how we got that table or why (perhaps they recognized me and wanted a favorable review? Shush... it could happen!), but we were in long before the surly crowd gathered on the sidewalk.

The inside of Roscoe's is how I imagine a lot of fried chicken restaurants looked... in the 70's. Rough-hewn wood panelling, careworn wood tables, lots of mirrors, and pink-tint floodlights in cans on the ceiling. Inside it was loud, big groups and families gathered around mounds of fried bird and cornbread. Signed pictures of celebrities bedecked the walls, and Kevin leaned over to me, "Supposedly this is Snoop Dogg's favorite place to eat..." Well, if it's good enough for Snoop Dogg, it's gotta be good for us!

Our friendly waitress took our drink order, then our food order, and was kind enough to bring two plates for us to share. It would be easy enough to order just one item off the menu and have that be your dinner, but Kevin had the right idea... get a whole boat load of Southern Fried Goodness, and spread the wealth around the table.

We ordered an Herb's special (half a chicken in gravy and onions,

and two waffles):

A Big Mamma's Special (potatoes with gravy and onions, scrambled eggs with onion and cheese,

and a buttermilk biscuit)

as well as a side of Mac & Cheese:

This is obviously a lot of food to wade through, so bear with me as I try my best to explain what happened when the lot of it hit the table. 

I immediately got to spreading the butter and maple syrup across my waffle; while at the same time grabbing a forkful of Mac & Cheese. And that's when it happened.

"Isn't this amazi..." Kevin started, but I quickly put my index finger to my lips, "Shhh... no one say anything trivial for the next few moments... I am having a significant experience..."

The Mac & Cheese was immense. Thick, creamy, cheesy, garlicky, and peppery all at once. The cheese sauce, clearly starting life as a béchamel, had a wonderful weightiness to it, with the same sort of cohesiveness that only comes with cooking twice: once in the pot, once in the oven. 

The waffle was equally divine, crispy on the outside, pillowy soft on the inside, with a hint of cinnamon. The butter and syrup soaked in quite well, and were all the better when mixed with the rich gravy over the chicken.

But wait... there was chicken! Heavenly, crispy, smothered, juicy chicken! Quite possibly one of the best fried chickens I've ever had, period. Despite bathing in a heavy curtain of gravy, the skin of the chicken was delightfully crisp, but strangely chewy at the same time. The chicken was well seasoned, but never overly salty or sickly peppery. Combined with the sweet waffle, and the onion gravy, well... words really can't express. This is one of those flavor combinations that truly has to be experienced to be understood. Why does sweet, savory, and salty come together so well here? Well, I think it's the same reason why ketchup is so popular: mix together enough sensations, our brain just goes three-mile-island.

The eggs were pleasantly fluffy, with enough cheese and onions to make them more special than just regular scrambled. The potatoes followed suit, cooked perfectly and swimming in that same wonderful gravy.

Our singular biscuit was nearly orgasmic when slathered in whipped butter and honey: I honestly got a little dizzy for a few seconds. Or maybe that was the angina kicking in. Who knows.

It was shocking how quickly the food disappeared from the table, and I was a bit proud in my ability to fell such a mighty feast. I completely understand the reputation Roscoe's has culled, and am happy to add to it: any trip to Hollywood could never be complete without a stop for lunch or dinner. I know my mouth will be watering until I return, perhaps as a California resident instead of a California visitor, and get my chicken and waffles fix.

Report Card:
Atmosphere: A

THIS is what I imagined a soul-food eatery to be: hectic, close quarters, lots of folks enjoying themselves and each others' company. It was nothing like a Tyler Perry movie.

Prices: B

Certainly not a cheap date, but you get what you pay for.

Service: A

Our waitress was top-notch, and our food came before I had a second thought about what we ordered. 

The Food: A+

I don't think anything I had at Roscoe's qualifies as the best xyz I've every had, but everything certainly makes the list... the magic is the combination. The chicken by itself is wonderful, the chicken with gravy, waffles, mac and cheese... well, that's what gives this a gold star. 

The Details:

Roscoe's House of Chicken and Waffles

Hollywood

(323) 466-7453

1514 N Gower St.

Los Angeles, CA 90028

Menu, locations, and more available on their website. Be advised, it is flash heavy, and features a soundtrack, so it is probably NSFW. 

Eating San Diego: In-N-Out Burger

There comes a time in every man's life when he needs to decide if Donny really was correct: is an In-N-Out burger a good burger after all?

After four hours from Milwaukee to Phoenix, then another hour from Phoenix to San Diego, about ten crying children, four drunken frat boys, three cans of Diet Coke, two annoying emergency announcements, and one completely flavorless turkey sandwich, I was ready for some food.

I needed greasy. I needy fatty. I needed something hot, quick, and quintessentially West Coast. I needed an In-N-Out burger.

Luckily, there was one located not too far from the Eating Milwaukee/San Diego's temporary compound in Ocean Beach. It was about 11pm by the time we got there, and the restaurant was filled with high-school age hipsters. Oh, boy.

The menu board at an In-N-Out is a simple affair, not unlike the slightly-more-familiar-to-Wisconsinites Five Guys:

I ordered a double-double something-or-other meal, which included fries and a drink. Surprisingly, for all the hype and raves, the ticket total wasn't painful at all:

When our order was ready (about 7 minutes or so), I was greeted by this wonderful bucket of cholesterol love:

Kevin was sure to request extra packets of "spread," which is in essence just thousand island dressing (or, for the dressing impaired: ketchup, mayo, and pickle relish, sometimes with chopped egg). The fries were gloriously hot and crunchy, despite their slightly pallid appearance. The crunchy outside gave way to a well-cooked and never mealy inside, without the "fluffy" blanched texture of McDonalds fries.

Dipped in the "spread," these salty sticks of holiness were even better, and it's certainly something I'm going to have to try with fries back home. 

And as for the burger, well, let's just say all the hype might actually be deserved...

First of all, the bun was perfectly toasted. PERFECTLY toasted. Crunchy, chewy, and not the least bit greasy. The meat patties were well grilled, with a tasty ring of caramelization around the edge. Just a few onions, and a whole heap of crisp, cold lettuce, a little "spread," and some melted yellow cheez, and everything added up to an amazing sandwich.

The best comparison I can make is to a Five Guys burger, but even that doesn't quite match up. Five guys is heavy, this somehow wasn't as much. A Kopps burger is all about big beef, big cheese, big onions, and big butter... this wasn't. This was a little more than exciting... finally, a burger that really didn't have an analog in my book.

The one thing I wasn't quite prepared for was the preponderance of biblical references throughout the meal... hidden in nearly every piece of paper or plastic was a bible verse... kind of made me feel guilty for the amount of times I cursed when I burnt my mouth on the hot fries. So, for folks who have a inclination towards staying away from businesses who make no bones about their faith, well, be warned. For everyone else, enjoy!

Report Card:
Atmosphere: C+

This is fast food. And a chain. A fast food chain. Which I know I said we'd never write about, but I'm breaking a rule. Don't expect fine crystal and classical music, this is about as bare-bones as it gets.

Prices: A

An awesome burger and fantastic fries, with an endless soda... $6? Not bad at all.

Service: B

It's fast food. As long as they get your order right, can you really fault them for anything?

The Food: B+

Maybe it's not the best burger I've ever eaten, but it certainly makes it into the top 10. Everything that should be present in a good cheeseburger is here. Which is good, considering it's the only thing In-N-Out Burger makes!

The Details:

In-N-Out Burger

Corporate website

Look for more Eating San Diego reviews, including the Corvette Diner in San Diego, and Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles in Hollywood...