Year Of The Pizza

Me photographing Peter Tsai photographing me photoraphing pizza. Say it five times fast. Ready go!

Peter Tsai from Tasting Buds and I met up at a bleet-up (sans goats) a few weeks ago, and he asked if he could arrange a photo shoot with me.  A photo shoot?  Me?  I wasn’t aware I was such a big cheese (ha!), but agreed for the novelty of it.  I figured that if I constantly subject people to being photographed while eating pizza with me, I should be able to handle the same treatment.

It’s hard to act natural when there’s a ginormous camera in your face clicking multiple times a second.  Alas, I tried.  As you can see from the photos, he’s a much better photographer than I am. We really enjoyed the pizza, although Peter thought the anchovies were a little much.  His loss.

Check out the photos here.

Gone

Captain’s log – Day 4: Morale despondent.

No free pizza left.  Crusts gone.  Couldn’t make it.

Pizza crusts not cutting it

Captain’s log – Day 3: Morale low.

Things are grim.  My shirt is as tattered as my hopes of survival.  Down to a meager ration of pizza crusts.  Have been unsuccessful in attempts to procure alternative supply of free food, pizza or otherwise.  Chances of survival are diminishing by the minute…

Can I make it?

Captain’s log – Day 2: Morale shaky.

Homeslice, have you forsaken me? I’m down to one last slice. Yea, though I look ahead to brighter days, the future seems cloudy. How will I make it through the rest of your journey? I see turbulent skies ahead…don’t know if I can make it.  Parrot, lead me through these uncertain times!

That's not a box of wine on my head, it's a captain's hat

Captain’s log – Day 1: Morale high.

With three hefty pieces of leftover Homeslice pizza, I bravely set forth into the great unknown of free-pizza-less days.  The owners of Homeslice Pizza, my source for free pizza, decided to close up shop and take their staff on an all expenses paid pilgrimage to New York for pizza and grog.  I will be carefully following along to see what I can glean of their expedition and its spoils.  While I applaud Homeslice’s captains for their clever efforts at boosting their staff’s espirit de corps, this has put me in quite a pickle.  Without free pizza, how will I survive?  Find food elsewhere?  Exchange precious dubloons for said food?  Find something or someone else to put my hand on to earn more free morsels?  Decisions await in the days ahead.

But such worries can wait.  My trusty parrot is happily by my side, and I have three pieces of leftover pizza from yesterday.  Other folks here in Ye Olde Austin talk with great lust for some new flavor of tack called the “ta-koh” (sp?).  If I start to wither away, I might have to steer the trustworthy S.S. Free Pizza towards a course for a supply station where I can pillage me some of these so-called ta-kohs.

My parrot and I can live through this period of depravity.  Yes we can, matey.

Jessie and Stefanie humbly suggesting I use their camera

Last night Erin and I went to Homeslice with our friends Jessie and Stefanie.  They just got engaged, so we decidedly to celebrate our engagements with some Homeslice Pizza followed by some homebrews at our apartment.

Beforehand, Erin and I saw the Austin premiere of Handmade Nation, a documentary about the DIY punk craft movement.  We got to the Alamo late, and by late, I mean ten minutes early.  While I usually think of ten minutes early as early, it was only good enough to get us seats in the row behind the front row.  The movie was shot in a very jerky, we’re-too-indie-for stablizers sorta way, and since we were seemingly right on top of the screen, Erin felt kinda queasy.  While we both have pretty strong stomachs, mine usually goes out before hers, so I was surprised that she felt nauseous instead of me.  One time I felt like lukewarm death on an Indonesian ferry for hours that felt like days, and she was chillin’.  Not this time though!  So she wasn’t in a crazy party mood.

We were glad to get some last free pizza in before Homeslice shutters for a few days for their annual pizza pilgrimage to NYC.  Shauna and friends seemed pretty excited to go live it up for a few days.  They deserve it.  I’m still amazed that the owners are taking all employees who’ve been there more than a year to NYC, all expenses (airfare, hotel and pizza).  Who does that?

Anyhoo, we were happily enjoying our pizza, when James McMurtry strolled in the front door.  I live in Lone Star throwing distance of the Continental Club, and have been meaning to check out one of his weekly shows ever since Slate brazenly claimed that his ballad “Choctaw Bingo” should be the new national anthem.  My friend Drew finally dragged me out this past week to his last gig in Austin for a while, and McMurtry rocked the fucking house.  I was glad to catch his set, and the universe proved to me that it was the right decision to go to the show by having him bless me with his presence at Homeslice last night.  A nice send off for the rough, pizza-less road ahead.

Diane, Beer and Pizza

Two days ago I went to Homeslice with Diane, a friend of my mom’s.  She works for MPower Labs, which incubates companies that help the world’s underserved by focusing on a double bottom line.  I felt like we had a lot in common, despite our different ages and places in life.

Although I didn’t forget my camera, I did leave my memory card in the card reader at home, thus rendering my camera useless.  She let me use her blackberry to take the photo of this pizza.  I really need to get better about this.  Diane said that maybe my recent inability to remember my camera / memory card may be a sign.  She believes that when things cross her path (or don’t), there’s a reason.  Maybe she’s right, this might be the universe’s way of telling me that taking pictures at Homeslice is annoying the staff, other customers, etc.  I already know it annoys Erin, who’s always been camera shy.

We had a new waitress, or at least a waitress who was new to me.  My first clue that she was a noobie was when she asked if I had any questions about the menu.  By this point in my pizza year, I’ve more or less figured it out.  Then when we started ordering lots of toppings, she said that Homeslice recommends that we abide by the “less is more” theory.  I tried really hard to not be an arrogant “who do you think you’re talking to” kinda customer.  I’ve been a waiter before, and I loathe those folks.  So I tried to (politely, I hope) tell her that I thought we’d be alright.  When she brought the bill, the pizza wasn’t deducted, so I delicately told her that I actually got free pizza here due to the hands on an eggplant sub (HOES) contest.  She was real nice about in, and came back with the corrected bill a couple minutes later.  I think I handled it well.  I have to introduce myself in this way at the slices window at 2:45am not unoccasionally on weekend nights, and I’m not sure if my manners shine through the haze of intoxication as well as I would like.

I wonder what the new waitstaff thinks when I tell them that I don’t have to pay for pizza because I left my hand on an eggplant sub the longest…

The L Word Pizza

The day after my hat conundrum, Erin and I returned to Homeslice.  Clare greeted me with a friendly “Why Seth, so good to see you again.  And wearing the same t-shirt as yesterday.”

Ryan and Jessie were along for the ride and deferred to us on the toppings choice.  We started playing around with the idea of ordering only toppings that contained a certain letter.  First we started with vowels, but quickly saw that the pizzas would be a little too crazy.  Not for me, mind you, but for the staff, who would balk.  After throwing a few letters out and seeing what stuck, we settled on the letter L.  The L word pizza had fresh mozzarella, broccoli, basil, garlic, fried eggplant, Italian sausage, meatballs (both for Jessie and Ryan, not Erin and I), black olives, green olives and kalamata olives.  We decided to cheat a little and pass on the chopped clams, despite their annoying possession of an L.

The pizza tasted great, the L words made a potent collection of flavorful, intense toppings, despite or perhaps because of the basil being unintentionally left off.  It ended up costing $35.25, which marks a new record for us, so that was exciting.  Over twice the cost of a large “tried and true” combo!

I forgot my camera, so their iphone (I refuse to capitalize the p, I’m tired of Apple’s schtick) camera shot of the pizza, with the letter L spelled out with a fork and knife, will have to suffice.

Utinsils And Hands Won't Be Necessary, Thanks

Greg and Marlo, of previous Year of the Pizza fame, came to Austin for a whirlwind visit.  They had a work-related training Friday morning and stayed til the next morning.  Marlo had never tried falafel, so we ate that for lunch, then spent the afternoon napping and playing Crazy Cat Lady at Barton Springs (I lost, barely).  Then we drank some homebrews and went over to Homeslice, and were seated at the four-top near the take-out window and apparel showcase.

Greg always enjoys beer at Homeslice, as do I.  We ordered one pitcher of the Real Ale Hef, then another.  Hot pizza + cold beer = goodness.

I went to the bathroom near the end of the meal (thanks to the beer) and came back to see that Greg, whose always super generous, had ordered two hats for us.

Firstly, the hat is really cool.  It’s maroon with the Homeslice crown and has a white mesh back to keep the air flowing lest my brain overheat.  Secondly, it was a really thoughtful gift.  But I can’t help equating wearing a Homeslice hat to Homeslice with wearing the t-shirt of a band to the band’s concert.  I don’t want to be THAT GUY.

We discussed this over the dregs of our beer.  Greg and I both clearly understand how unsavory it is to be THAT GUY.  It’s ok to wear another band’s t-shirt to the show, but not that band’s shirt.  I don’t know where these rules are inscribed (and I’ve been told I’m not the type to respect rules anyway, most recently by the serving lady at Snow’s BBQ), but they exist.  Not that I have any love for the fashion world (a mutual dislike), but I don’t think designers wear their own gear to their shows.  Erin and Marlo thought the practice was perfectly acceptable, but I remained unconvinced. I did, however, wear the hat to the hot sauce festival Sunday, and was pleasantly surprised at its utility and awesomeness.

On a related note, I bumped into Chris Floyd, Austin’s competitive eating maestro, at the Sugar Mama’s Bakeshop anniversary party.  As you can see from this video, he dominated the pie-eating contest.  We talked beforehand and he mentioned that he has a Homeslice shirt that he wears if he isn’t going to Homeslice, so I think I’ll follow his lead.  He’s won his competition three years running, so I trust him as a valuable source for fashion and dynastic longevity advice.  So I’ll keep wearing it around town, but not to Homeslice.

Free Pizza For Camaro Owners

I love it.  The founder of Papa John’s Pizza sold his Camaro when he was younger to keep Papa John’s afloat.  Now that he’s been successful, he wanted his muscle car back.  He offered $250,000 to find it, blogged about his search, and finally succeeded.  So today, Camaro owners get a one-topping pizza for free from Papa John’s.  Good on him for helping the rest of the country celebrate his find.  It’s safe to say that readers of this blog appreciate free pizza and the establishments that generously offer it as prizes.