Before discussing the food, which was tremendous, I have to mention the atmosphere. First off, there was the owner behind the counter. She made suggestions, explained the ingredients, how it was made, and did so with a smile and sense of humor.

We sat down to jazz music while patrons were not only enjoying their meals but being addressed by name. A character by the name of Franklin, the owner’s husband, was wandering the restaurant with about a nip of bourbon conversing with patrons.

When Franklin made his way to us, we told him this was our first time at La Roma and discussed our order. A large all meat pie and hummus for an appetizer. He thanked us for coming in and told us we were about to eat the best pizza we had ever had in our lives. I thanked Franklin while trying to think of a way to be honest, yet diplomatic later when he would surely attempt to validate his claim.

The hummus came out first, and it was tremendous. It had a unique flavor and was exceptionally smooth. The owner later explained why. While most restaurants who make hummus spend their time in grocery stores buying canned chickpeas, La Roma soaks theirs every night for a true homemade dish.

Then came the Big Kahuna, the pièce de résistance, the 16″ all meat wonder, the soon to be best pizza I’ve ever had in my life. Reminiscent to Ralphie unwrapping his Red Rider BB gun, I quickly identified my first slice. With the unmistakable, mouth-watering fragrance of oregano wofting up from the pie, I feverishly separated it from the rest. Once on my plate, I picked up the piping hot slice and took my first bite, and it was glorious. An absolute perfect crust, a ton of toppings, and cheese stretched from my mouth to the slice as it made its way back to the plate. 

This pizza was so full of ingredients, it caused me to sin. I actually used a knife and fork for a portion of my first slice. When Franklin checked up on me, I let him know how much I loved the pizza. Now, in a state of glory, I began to confess to Franklin my doubt on his best pizza claims as well as my fork transgressions. Half lit, Franklin adorned a disapproving face and lectured me on the importance of patience in letting the pizza cool. Either that, or fold the slice and commit. Either way, a fork was not appropriate. Then I am pretty sure he threw some shade my way about being fat. I sat there in quiet awe. Franklin is now my spiritual leader. Like any good priest, he tells you what you need to know, not what you want to hear! I will be by regularly with my tithe!