Went to Soho Pizza (218 Market) last week with the lovely Ginger. I have always liked Soho. The pizza is good, the atmosphere is nice without being stuffy, and they serve ya quick. Usually I go for their BBQ chicken slices, but they didn’t have them this time. So I decided on pineapple and bacon, just to piss off Palestra Jon when he read this. It was pretty solid. I then got a red slice with garlic, pesto, and no cheese. Uh, it was ok but I kind of think you need cheese to call it a pizza, so in hindsight it was a bad choice. I think I was just having a fat day, so I didn’t get something else. The guy working behind the counter talked our ears off. He was nice enough, and he told us that the best place he had ever worked was Applebees, b/c he had an “under the table” deal going on. Though I don’t think he was referring to the Applebees at 15th and Locust, I think they need to be investigated by the IRS anyway, just to be sure. Here was the lovely Ginger’s take:
The crust was perfect, as it is every time I go. The environment is a pinch more upscale than your typical pizza joint, but still welcoming. The actual warming device is quite possible the most spectacular pizza oven in the city. Once I got past the oven, I realized that I could get a buzz-on simultaneously while chowing down on some on the finest pizza Philadelphia has to offer. Being a beer aficionado, I couldn’t help but be excited about the option of Chimay Blue with my slice. I just sat back and thought, “Wow, life is good.” Crust? Check. Sauce? Check. Cheese? Check. Slice size? Check. Two thumbs up wish I had a third. Oops—no we’re talking pepperoni’s, right? Let’s see. 3 and ¾. Just visit during the day, when the drunk a******* of old city aren’t lurking around, chanting, “doll face.” Bonus- Played a game of scrabble on a different trp there, dining al fresco. Scrabble and a slice…hakuna matata.
Yeah, the lovely Ginger gave it a 3 3/4, I think I’ll give it a 3 1/2. Worth the trip to Old City. Oh, and rumor has it that the lovely Ginger is newly single, so if you want to impress her, take her to Soho, and order some beer that you’re not sure how to pronounce. Ginger is a major beer snob. She told me that she met some guy last weekend who was gorgeous, and he asked her for his number. “So, you gave it to him, right?” I asked. “No, he was drinking the King of Beers, so I couldn’t see a future with him.”
