Chickie’s and Pete’s
4010 Robbins Ave.
There I was, sitting in a dirty alley off Frankford Ave and eating a slice of roast beef pizza, when I explained to Plic an urge to consume some sort of seafood pizza. “It might be a great addition to the blog, right?” Before I even had a chance to finish my sentence, he said, “Yo, Chickie’s has lobster pizza.” Whoa. Out of the countless times I’ve almost killed myself, stuffing my face with crab fries and doing shots of melted American cheese at Chickie’s and Pete’s, it’s never even dawned on me to order pizza…let alone pizza topped with crustaceans. You don’t go to Chickie’s and Pete’s to eat pizza. You go to break crab legs apart with your bare hands like an animal or for a cutlet sang’wich. That’s what I thought until today…
If you open the menu and look at the very bottom, you’ll see “Pete’s-A-Petezza.” There are 4 selections of pizza to choose from. Plain, pepperoni, shrimp and Lisa’s blonde lobster pie. We didn’t come for just any pizza; we wanted a shot at that sexy lobster pie. (Apparently it’s Bon Jovi’s favorite thing to get.) “This lobster pizza is bleeding, but you can’t see his blood.” Typical of a doughboy, we went in there hungover and starving. So what did we do? We ordered 3 of the 4 pizzas they offer. That’s right…24 slices of pizza for 2 people. That’s a boss move.
1st on deck was the plain cheese. I was surprised at how simple it was. Fresh hand tossed dough, nothing frozen. The crust was flaky and crunchy. The black char spots are evidence of a skilled pizza cook. The red sauce was chunky and delicious. (To think Chickie’s would serve anything other than a ridiculous red sauce is absurd.) The cheese was perfect, stretching from mouth to slice. This pizza was more than able to hold it’s on against any pie that we’ve had to date.
The pepperoni was my personal favorite. Crispy slices of semi-thick meat, with blackened edges. This is the type of thing that makes grown men weep. I could literally break the charred edges of the pepperoni off and chop them up into a fine powder with my debit card and snor…well you get the point.
And finally, the pièce de résistance. The lobster pie. This dish is apparently best served cold. Wait, that’s revenge. This dish is apparently best served in white sauce. However, being the risk takers that the doughboys are, we got it with red sauce. Bon Jovi would be highly disappointed. I’m totally glad we opted with the red. These are giant pieces of lobster tail meat strategically placed throughout the pie. 3-4, 1.5″, flawlessly seasoned, juicy lobster pieces on each slice. I’m no lobster connoisseur, but that has to be 2 full tails of meat on a single pie. Definitely one of the most creative and succulent pizzas I’ve encountered on this most non-non triumphant pizza journey.
All I ask is next time you decide to have a Chickie’s night, drop an Andy Jackson on the table and try the lobster pizza. Rest assured your life will finally be complete and you can tell yourself “you chose…wisely.” (Inserted Indiana Jones reference)
If you’re like me, you’re about six feet tall and named John. But if you’re really like me, pizza is never even an option when dining at Chickie’s and Pete’s. Every time I’ve eaten there, I’ve had some sort of sandwich and crabfries combination. After all, how good could their pizza be? Bar pizza usually never lives up to the hype once sobriety kicks in. But on a dreary afternoon in September I literally ate those words, along with lobster pizza.
Don’t let the menu fool you; just because they call it “Pete’s-A-Petezza” doesn’t mean you’re going to get some gimmicky, Chuck E. Cheese type garbage. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it can compete with some of the local pizzerias, let alone local bars. The paramount difference between the pizza at Chickie’s and any other bar is clearly the crust. Whereas most all bars serve their pizzas on previously frozen slabs of bread, Chickie’s hand tosses their thin crust right there like a true pizzeria should. Their topping selection may be a bit limited, but with all the other menu options, it really doesn’t matter. Of the four pizzas you can order on the menu, Castro and I ordered three: plain, pepperoni, and LOBSTER. That’s right, we got classy for a brief moment. But never fear, I’m sure we’ll be back to eating in alleys and parking lots soon enough.
Truth be told that I’m not a huge lobster fan. There’s just something about the texture and consistency that has always turned me off. But out of all the times I’ve ever eaten it, this was the best. That doesn’t exactly say much, but it just happened to taste exceptional on their pizza. And for a twenty-dollar pizza, they really piled on the lobster. Huge, juicy lobster tail lumps literally littered the entire pie. If you’re a lobster fan, that needs to be your topping of choice.
Personally speaking, I’m a huge pepperoni fan. It’s such a simple topping that can either make or break a pizza. Unfortunately in this situation, it kinda broke it for me. The pepperoni was crispy, well done, and just a bit charred, which I usually prefer. But the flavor itself wasn’t special, almost as if it were stolen from the kitchen of Pizza Hut or Domino’s. Of the three pizzas we ordered, I must admit that the plain was what really impressed me. The ratio of cheese to sauce was perfect, the crust was thin and flaky, and the overall flavor was stupendously memorable.
Although it felt odd dining at Chickie’s and not ordering crabfries, the pizzas were a welcomed change from my usual orders. If you’re skeptical about ordering a pizza from there, don’t be. Lay down the $14 and split a plain. It’ll make you a believer.