So if you find yourself ambling after more annoyingly “adult” friends, with their “jobs” and cognizance of “tomorrow,” and you're left stuttering “wait, so you don’t want to order Pizza Shuttle?” And so long as you’re between Oklahoma and Hampton and 27th and the Lake, with a cell phone and a wish to experience last-light deliverance in fried, doughy form, here's a take on how to direct that call, how to forget tomorrow, and enjoy the best of the best of Milwaukee guilty chowing.
And, still, pretty great when you’re five-to-ten deep. Or, rather, some food that’s pretty good. A late night order scoffed at, a joke, indicative of over-exuberant East Side adolescence and drunkenness and a greasy life epoch long passed.īut hey, Pizza Shuttle makes some pretty good food. And to many mid-to-late 20-somethings, Pizza Shuttle has already become a sort of punchline. What with the styrofoam and cardboard boxes piled like evidence, like an indictment on your character, health, and adult achievement level. Or else it’s just a time when you no longer want your living quarters to smell like that the day after. Where the bars have all become familiar, where responsibilities have gained weight and height, and developed a formidable upper cut, and they smirk intimidatingly in the corner like a Mike Tyson-sized foe of hangover and regret. Then there’s a later, more unfortunate, and gradually developing stage. And the kicker: this can all happen until 4 a.m. Brought by a sleepy-eyed benefactor you never before knew existed. A newfound combo fit for the greatest of depraved late-night hungers. But once you’ve developed that particular brand of hunger, that mixes with youthful idealism and boozy energy and no need to ever really go to bed at a reasonable hour, and you cross paths with an older, wiser, shaman-like character with a phone number and willingness to turn you on, everything in life can thus be divided into before and after.Īnd lo, the revelation: a call can be made, a person with a car can be summoned, to bring - or to shuttle! - pizza and chicken wings and apps, to your house or apartment, or maybe that smoky, smelly dorm even, said calories rendered warm in one of those thermal contraptions that keeps carbs and cheese and sauce and grease hot and gloriously goopified into a cardboard-boxed amalgamation.
Its most often stumbled upon while drinking, maybe over-drinking, while underage, perhaps in college, and perchance it is all the Busch Light or Natty Ice or newfound teenage freedom or possibly the lateness of the hour. on weekends.At a certain point of development in nascent Milwaukeean adulthood, there comes, for many of us, a Pizza Shuttle moment of clarity.
Plus, the joint's locally owned and the owners have donated a quarter of a million dollars to local organizations. No, Pizza Shuttle isn't gourmet food, but it's good food and the prices rock. To keep with gluttonous theme going, we finished the meal with dishes of vanilla and chocolate custard, both a little grainy but flavorful and not too frozen. Our only complaint was that the slices were too big - ridiculously mammoth triangles - forcing us to cut each one into two or three smaller slices which made us prolong the pleasure of chowing down. It was hot and soft, without being too chewy, smothered with a slightly spicy sauce and a load of toppings. Hand tossed into a medium crust, we were delighted to find it less soggy than when we had it home delivered. We liked that it came with Newman's dressing and there was definitely enough to serve as a main course or for a pre-pizza group nibble. Our chef salad was very good a crisp bed of lettuce piled with tomatoes, black olives, turkey bits, ham squares and cheese. It looked like mini onion rings, circular in shape, and although the breading was quite good, the calamari itself was way too rubbery. Then, we heard our number over the intercom system and picked up our drinks and appetizers from the counter. While we waited for our grub, we checked out the game room and burned a few quarters in Centipede and Pac Man.
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