Don’t tell Frank the Bartender at Vito & Nick’s Pizzeria, on Chicago’s southwest side, that they don’t make “the Best Pizza Anywhere.”
If you do, and you catch him on a bad night, you might find yourself on the other side of a verbal food fight.
Vito & Nick’s Pizzeria is one of those neighborhood places in Chicago that is caught in a culinary time warp. This current incarnation of the restaurant has been at its present location in a working class Chicago neighborhood for close to 50 years. Prior to that, Vito and Mary Baracco’s pizza and food had its home at Congress and Polk and at 80 and Halsted and 79th and Carpenter. Vito and Mary Baracco started small, in 1923, added a few stools at the new location, and started a family tradition. Sicilian in origin, Mary Baracco’s home cooked meals made those homesick for the old country and newcomers alike mark Vito & Nick’s as their new headquarters for satisfying their stomachs. After World War II, Nick, their son, joined the family business — hence the “Nick” part in the name.
Today, you know you’re close because you can smell Vitio & Nick’s a block away. That’s always been the case. It has that warm, toasty, kind of garlicky smell that finds its way across traffic and around corners into your starved olfactory glands. Walk through the door and you do some time tripping. There is nothing fancy about Vito & Nick’s decor, but that’s not why you’re there. Basically, you’re there for the pizza. Even though the menu has other items on it, it’s the pizza, stupid, that has kept Vito & Nick’s fans happy for generations.
In fact, there is even a blog on the Vito & Nick’s web site where you can leave comments. You will see people far and wide extolling the round pizza pie.
My trip to Vito & Nick’s was a homecoming of sorts. I went with a friend who can’t get himself up that way all too much anymore, so I gladly sacrificed and returned to the pizza memories of my youth.
I went in and took a seat at the bar, while I waited for my buddy to finish a smoke outside. A few eyes were on me, because I’m not a regular and, in typical Chicago fashion, I was not on the “inside”. I ordered a “Miller Lite”, and Frank the Bartender slammed down a “Bud Light. No point in arguing here. Frank, a stocky man in his sixties with Elvis style slicked hair, would never give quarter on his mistake. I drank Bud Light and liked it. But the Vito & Nick’s way back machine was running. On tap, for $1.50 for a tall, was “Old Style”, once the most popular beer in Chicago. Why Old Style was popular in Chicago I’ll never know. One customer came up and was complaining to a disinterested waitress that the beer didn’t taste like Old Style. He said he was from Ohio. The waitress rolled her eyes. I volunteered that it did taste like Old Style; it tasted that bad.
When Mike, by buddy, finally finished his smoke, he sat at the bar.
I decided to get some carry out for my uncle, but he doesn’t like pizza. I ask Frank for a menu.
He looks at me like I’m crazy. He had to search for several minutes until he found one. I think I was probably the first person in 30 years to ask for a menu; it looked brand new from the printers.
Meanwhile, we ordered a pie. We got the “Round the World”. That’s what it said on the menu, but Frank looked puzzled. He took the menu back and studied it. You could tell it was the first time he’d seen it. Finally, he shrugged and asked if I wanted large or small.
New lights. That’s the only improvement to the decor. The dropped ceiling had white Italian lights running in a grid pattern. Mike mentioned that they finally got new chairs. They had. Some of the tables didn’t match. But you aren’t coming to Vito & Nick’s for the ambiance. Though some would argue that the carpeted walls, cheesy pictures and mismatched tables was what made the joint special. For some reason there are models of western wagons behind the bar, with one wedged in a glass case over the doorway to the kitchen.
While waiting, a drink order came up for a Whiskey Sour. Frank asked the waitress, “Who the f—k ordered that? What table? Tell them to go to Pepe’s for that.” Finally he just poured a finger of whiskey in a glass and added some strange looking mix. “Take it!” he barked. The waitress took it reluctantly. It was probably the complainers from Ohio.
Finally the pie came. It was…soggy. I nearly cried. This was the home of my favorite thin crust pizza.
Mike said they should have cooked it longer. We ate it. It still had the unique taste that is Vito & Nick’s. They are known, literally, all over the world (read the blog or “guestbook” ) for their thin crust pizza.
Frank forgot to place my carry out order, but I ordered it again like it was the first time. You better at Vito & Nick’s. Like I said, they are known for pizza not for charm.
Mike got a couple of “half baked” or “par cooked” pizzas to have for some future day.
He had to order for the future. Vito & Nick’s hasn’t delivered a pie in 85 years. Not once. Ever. Here’s what the late Nick Baracco had to say about pizza delivery: “We will never deliver, if they want a truly great pizza, they will come in for it.
Think otherwise? Ask Frank the Bartender, right after you order that pansy Whiskey Sour.
Vito & Nicks, 8433 South Pulaski Rd, Chicago, IL. Phone, 773.735.2050 or www.vitoandnick.com
