A Pizza Don't


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Does anybody remember Pizza on Dubuque?

I vaguely remembered it from my first two years, but I was never adventurous enough to go give it a try. Then it closed, how sad.

I guess that means I'm limited to just a few pizza options in Iowa City, especially when I'm getting the late-night munchies.

No more gluten-filled grease triangles for me, it seems. I should just find a nice, vegetarian option that serves me 24/7.

Too bad there are none of those downtown. So, instead of trying one of those food carts (some of them are delicious, but I'll visit that another time), I thought I would go to one of the places that had seating where I could get off these feet that spent the entire night boogying.

Then I saw this new pizza place opened on Iowa Avenue called the Pizza P.O.D. — enough enticed me to give it a look.

The first time I walked in here, I looked at the food and walked right back out. The pizza had been there for a significant amount of time, and because nothing new was coming out, I thought I would spare my wallet and stomach at the same time.

Walking by another night, I noticed that it was advertising using pizza boxes unfolded with sharpie words written on them: "Pizza (Previously on Dubuque)."

Oh, that makes sense. Previously on Dubuque, P.O.D. Looks like I didn't mess up that bad, freshman year.

So when I felt that a visit was necessary, I came into a similar situation to my first experience, with the pizza looking terribly unappetizing.

But the worker was kind enough to let me know that I didn't want that pizza, more was on the way. Thank God. It looked rough.

While waiting, I took a seat in the small parlor that was available for eating. No table sat more than three, so they must be fond of third wheels or something else.

Looking around, it was pretty clear that this place had recently been opened. The power outlets were uncovered, wires were exposed, and the nasty part — there were bees and dead bugs inside.

When the fresh Hawaiian pizza popped out of the oven, it at least looked better than the pizza that had been thrown out, but I was still concerned.

Luckily, the pizza wasn't that bad. It wasn't anything impressive — the pineapple was pale, as if it had just come out of a can, and the Canadian bacon looked as though it had come from the same aisle.

The price was one of the surprising things for me, for such low-quality ingredients I had expected to spend a significant amount cheaper than I normally would for an oven-heated pizza. The heat-lamps must be pretty expensive, because the $5.50 for a pizza slice and a drink is about the same I would get at table pizza place.

The crust was whole grain, but otherwise the toppings dominated the entire slice. Almost no sauce, thin crust — need I go on?

A one-time adventure. Maybe Freshman Ben had a reason for dodging this place before.

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