The Pizza Snob Strikes Again!

The members of my social network are all keenly aware that I am a pizza snob aficionado, so there is no shortage of recommendations of places I should try. But one of the unintended consequences of finally finding and enjoying the Greatest Pizza On Earth, Or At Least My Corner Of It, is that everything else just pales in comparison. The bar has been set so high that nobody else can hope to compete. Seriously, short of a trip to Pizza Mecca, I'm pretty sure that Grimaldi's won't ever be topped. (And where is the original Grimaldi's located, class? That's right--Brooklyn!). But you know what--even though it may be an exercise in futility, it's still fun to try. Hell, I know I'll never come anywhere close to breaking Wilt Chamberlain's record of 20,000 women, but that doesn't mean I won't give it a shot.

So I've had a few different people tell me that Sunset Pizzeria on West Horizon Ridge out here in Henderson is pretty damn good. When I hear it from one person, I don't put too much stock in it, because their tastes may not be anything like mine. When I hear it from two different people, I'm intrigued. Any recommendations beyond that moves it to the top of the 'Must Do' list. Since I had three different people tell me about it and give it the thumbs up, I knew I had to try.

Last night, both Rob and I had the evening away from the casino, an empty cupboard, and a few bucks in our pockets. So off we went. The pizza joint is just right down the road from the Man Cave, so it didn't take us five minutes to get there. When we pulled up, we both thought Uh oh, it doesn't look like it even has a dining room--we might have to get our dinner to go. If that was the case, I said we'd bag it and just go to Grimaldi's, because if I have to wait for a pizza, I'd prefer to be sitting at the bar in a place I like, rather than standing around outside freezing my ass off waiting for a pie of unknown quality. But we were wrong--as we walked up to the door, we could see that there was a long narrow area on the side with a few tables and chairs.

So we grabbed a couple of paper menus and headed to a table in the rear of the dining area. Immediately we noticed a self-serve Coke fountain, so that was a good sign--none of that vile Pepsi shiat stinking up the joint! The room was fairly plain, the only decor was some cheezy random sports memorabilia, looking like stuff from the clearance bin on the Home Shopping Network, with the occasional autographed picture from an unknown boxer tossed in the mix. We also noticed that there were way too many employees hanging around. And by 'employees', I mean gentlemen of European descent, wearing velour track suits and lots of jewelry, speaking in heavy accents, sitting at the tables, not eating. Yes, they outnumbered us six-to-two, not including the kid they had cooking in the kitchen.

Rob and I both noticed it at the same time, and I even remarked that if a guy comes out of the bathroom wearing a Members Only jacket, I'm diving under the table. Some restaurants try for a mobbed-up vibe with pictures of John Gotti or Al Capone on the walls, dark wood accents, and dimly lit booths, but this place was nothing like that--it felt authentic, kind of like we were having dinner at Satriale's Pork Store. So we were on our best behavior.

For a joint with no discernible ambiance, but plenty of real gangster-style vibe, the menu was rather extensive. Lots of southern Italian pasta dishes, a huge list of salads, calzones, both hot and cold sandwiches, and of course, pizza.

Rob immediately pointed out the must-have for me, pizza number four -- Mikey's Favorite. It was a 16-inch pie that featured pepperoni, Italian sausage, salami, and mushrooms. I looked no further. Rob dug a little deeper on the menu and went with the ham-and-cheese calzone. We walked back up to the front and placed our order, skipping the appetizers altogether, content to just sip on our Cokes and whisper about what kind of nefarious misdeeds must go on in this place when nobody was looking.

About fifteen minutes later, dinner was delivered to our table by the same guy who cooked it. The pizza looked amazing, and Rob's calzone was huge. The food was piping hot, straight out of the oven, and of course I burned the roof of my mouth on the first bite. On the downside, there was no grated Parmesan available, and at that point we realized that we had no silverware, either. Rob, being the resourceful dude that he is, found some forks by the soda fountain. The help-yourself aspect of the place only added to the experience.

The pizza was pretty good, although the crust was just a wee bit thicker than I prefer, but not bad at all. And the edges were chewy and delicious--perfect for dipping in ranch dressing. The pie itself was a little on the greasy side, but that was to be expected having three different kind of salted meats on top. About mid-way through the second piece, I realized that there were absolutely no mushrooms to be found anywhere on the pizza. Not wanting to cause any trouble, we just figured that whoever that other Mikey was, he must've developed an allergy to mushrooms after the menus were already printed, and just left it at that.

The sauce didn't have as much zip as I would've liked, the mozzarella was the shredded industrial variety, and there was no fresh basil in site, but again, it's pizza--you have to try *really* hard to screw it up. It was good, but not great. We both decided that if Grimaldi's was a 10, and New York Pizza & Pasta was an 8, than this was a good solid 7, but that's just the opinion of the Simon Cowell and Randy Jackson of the pizza-judging world. We could easily see how some people would just love it. The prices weren't bad, either, as dinner for two came to thirty bucks, with leftovers.

Would I eat there again? Certainly. But if I'm going out for pizza, Grimaldi's is just too close, so Sunset Pizzeria is going to lose that battle every time. And when I finish up, I won't feel like I have to check under the drivers seat before I start my truck.

Mikey