It's the 2-year anniversary of PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST.  Please enjoy the original, deep-dish version of the classic post that led the way...


The other day I had an reflective thought: the mark of a good pizza is in how well it holds up for breakfast.

Many of us realize this when a Friday night dinner of appetizing pizza tastes even more terrific the next morning, when one is especially tired of cereal or English muffins from the weekday rush.  Thin, thick or deep dish pizza – it’s hard to choose a favorite.

It was my dad who first introduced my siblings and me to authentic Chicago deep dish pizza.  We bundled up one December evening two days after Christmas to celebrate my brother’s birthday.  Dad promised us a delicious treat as he drove around the blocks – passing Medinah Temple at least two times – before finding a free parking spot.  In those days paying for parking was unheard of, at least in my father’s mind.

We quickly walked in the cold winter air to the famous Pizzeria Uno, only to find out we had a 45 minute wait for a table.  That was okay – we pre-ordered and stood in the hallway, shivering with other hungry patrons and thinking about what was ahead.  Finally the hostess called our name and we were seated at a tiny rectangular table, knocking chairs with other diners.

Our parents ordered beer on tap while we kids were treated to a pitcher of pop (for good behavior).  Never mind that we argued over root beer or cola for several minutes, we still had time to kill before the food arrived.

Finally it was our turn for dinner.  The pizza was piping hot as the waitress cut and served the slices out of a dark-colored, deep pan.  The cheese stretched from the spatula to our plate and we knew this was a meal that required a real knife and fork and serious concentration.

Delicious!  Chicago winters be damned!

We got deep dish pizza, baby, and this stuff is great!  Our dad did us all a favor by bringing us here, and we looked at him with renewed awe and respect.  This one was something to be cherished the next day when we told our friends about the best pizza ever, and it was right downtown.  Our dad was pretty cool after all.



Years later this eatery is still our family tradition.  I am fortunate to live near some of the best pizzerias in the Midwest.  When my brother travels to visit from the west coast, he takes the CTA blue line directly from O’Hare airport to Pizzeria Uno’s.  We meet inside, order our own beers on tap and look forward to a long, worthwhile wait while we reconnect.  Whether we love the memories or the food more, it doesn’t matter.

Because all is well.

[Author’s note: makes an excellent breakfast the next day.]

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Filed under: Chicago at Its Finest

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