Salami, pepperoni, sausage, basil, mushrooms, bacon and sun dried tomatoes.
Denver Pizza Co. menu.
Size medium, 6" cost: $1,000,000.00
Not really.
But all the sizes are smaller than you think, medium is actually quite small and x-large isn't so big after all, and the cost is always more than you're used to spending for pizza.
Come on. It's bread with stuff sprinkled on top.
And when you make them yourself you load the toppings on liberally, but Denver Pizza Co is always so reasonable, so cautious, so conservative, so balanced.
And everything is already right there, already prepared. They reach into a container and grab the cheese already grated and sprinkle it on, then reach into a container and grab some sausage and sprinkle it on, then reach into a container and grab some prepared bacon bits and sprinkle them on, and so on, whereas at home each element must be grated, sliced, chopped, opened, peeled, just for one pizza. And it's a huge mess. Fun. But a mess.
But is all that really worth $16.00 for a medium/small pizza or $24.00 for a slightly large XL-in name only pizza? Yes!
Because they're totally ace.
When you order online they charge $2.00 for delivery but honestly I don't know what that goes to. It's not enough tip for a delivery person.
So I add $10.00 tip to the driver.
On an order totaling $21.00 with tax and delivery surcharge and two Coca-Colas.
So then, $31.00 for a small/medium pizza. Two meals for me.
And it is pizza perfection.
The pizza box fit inside my little cart.
OMG, I love young people so much I could squeeze their guts out.
I love their energy. Their optimism. I love observing them facing their challenges. I love being allowed to participate. Even in such a small way.
Our front door security has been down for a month and the call-box out of order. The door doesn't work. It's always such a drag anyway. So I went down to the street to meet the delivery in the front intending to take up through the back.
Denver Pizza always underpromises and over-delivers. They say allow sixty minutes then they deliver within fifteen minutes.
I hastened downstairs with my little old man cart to bring the pizza up to my apartment. I cannot walk and hold a pizza. Maybe I can. I never tried it. Yes, in fact I can. But it would be unsteady. I met the delivery person downstairs outside.
As it turns out, the door and call box are repaired so that wasn't necessary.
A small young man with dark skin and very long dark hair parked right in front. I greeted him as he exited his car. A mini Jesus dressed in drab browns emerging from a dark little car. "Good," he's thinking, he doesn't have to buzz in, ride up the elevator and find the apartment. It's a lot easier.
I handed him the $10.00 bill and his mood elevated noticeably immediately. Suddenly from drably overworked to cheerful. A small thing like that makes a big difference for young people working in service industries. It signifies that we understand each other. They remind me of myself at that age. And I remind them of someone in their life who is magnanimous toward them. There is an instant affection. An instant change. When they smile their eyes and their teeth literally light up the darkness of night and a connection of fondness is made between generations.
However minimal, evanescent and brief. Poof. Gone.
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