This past Sunday night, a few of the remnants of the March Madness contingent gathered at Grimaldi's for an epic feast. Yep, it was so good that between the ten of us, ten different pizzas hit the table. Not that we finished it all--far from it, but we sure had a helluva good time trying. And the leftovers the next day were a wonderful way to relive the happiness.
Those of you who have yet to partake in the wonderful nirvana-on-a-metal-tray that is Grimaldi's, you really don't know what you're missing out on. Sure, some of you northeastern pizza snobs may scoff, but when you've lived in places like Nashville, Idaho, and Alaska, where good pizza just does not exist, it's almost a religious experience when you finally sample that perfect slice for the first time.
In my not-so-humble opinion, there is no better pizza in Las Vegas, or the world, as far as I'm concerned--if there is, I have yet to taste it. And second place is just a distant speck in the rear-view mirror, too.
So why not gather nine of your good friends and spend the evening gorging on the Food of the Gods (whenever They tire of ambrosia...) It's even better when they separate you from the rest of the well-mannered patrons and put your group out on patio where you can offend the least number of people with your loud laughter and colorful banter.
Damn that was a good time. I can't wait to do it again!
Mikey
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