A love letter to Bruno’s Pizza

The term “coastal elitist” is far from a new one. My New York heritage has more than solidified the belief that I am not just better than those around me, but have better opinions than all those around me.

This empire state of mind in which I reside creates the jury in which I judge my peers. Today, I must crack down on the notion that High Street’s grab ‘n’ go, by-the-slice pizzeria, Bruno’s Pizza, is anything less than great.

For anyone worried, I by no means believe Bruno’s to be the greatest in the world, that would be Patsy’s Pizzeria on W. 47th Street mere moments away from the Strawberry Fields of Central Park (see the NY elitism in action?).

However, Bruno’s pizza does something special that my *cough* outgoing *cough* food section editor fails to tally to its fullest potential.

Your average, intoxicated RedHawk can wander through the glassdoor of the pizzeria with two crisp (or horrendously crumpled) dollar bills and walk away, within 90 seconds, with a slice of hot, perfectly-greased pizza.

A community staple that gives my father a better reason to visit Oxford than his eldest child’s Miami attendance, Bruno’s has been serving the community as close to a New York slice as you can get whilst puttering the brick-lain streets over 700 miles away.

You don’t order Bruno’s “Home of the Slice Pie” Pizza delivery when what you desire is a pizza party, you go to Bruno’s for the experience – the ease, satisfaction and immediacy of well-proportioned, not-too-sweetly sauced pizza to-go.

Do you find yourself occasionally with a slightly over-greased, under-sauced slice or two? Sure. Like with all to-go foods, perfection and restaurant quality are not guaranteed. In fact, I challenge you to find a perfectly consistent to-go pizza shop anywhere outside of Rome.

But Bruno’s delivers the best experience of grabbing your slice without exiting the famed ambiance of Oxford’s uptown. In fact, the slightly-too-cramped, hot, misshapen inside is a continuation of the vibe that we expect and love.

On High Street, the competitor for quick and quality pizza is but only Rapid Fired, a chain restaurant that prizes its ability to Back to the Future 2-style cook its pizzas, in its touted 180-second cook-time.

The speed, my friends, my peers and, as a result of this letter, my enemies, mustn’t be derived from the cooking time. Anyone who has used an oven knows faster is not the more quality, even bake. That’s why Bruno’s serves fresh, properly and timely cooked slices to everyone placing an order. The speed comes from preparedness.

Not only does Bruno’s deliver on quality, but they know their audience; they know the demand.

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Many argue that it is only good enough to shove down your throat if heavily intoxicated with any of a vast array of substances open to be abused. To this, I assert that I have never had a Bruno’s slice while under the influence of anything unholy.

To me, the slice I take from the rushed cooks and employees behind the counter, on the quarter-ply napkin and its accompanying folded, greasy plate is akin to dollar slices on the streets of Manhattan.

So I find myself, tonight, enjoying the perfectly floppy, greasy, cheesy Bruno’s I ordered for myself, and can’t help but enjoy each bite more than the last, envisioning myself in my father’s shoes, visiting many years from now, and the smile that spreads across my face as I get my first slice to-go in a long, long time.

@devin_ankeney

ankenedw@miamioh.edu