Well, this is it. As Homer Simpson once said, “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing. Tim and Paul are leaving.” That’s right, kiddies, this is the last Eat-N-Write. Not just of the year. FOREVER.

Tim and Paul have decided to move on. Well, actually the district attorney and a court of their peers decided it for them. “Twenty to life” with good behavior ain’t all bad, right? Right?

For the sentimental goodbye Eat-N-Write, the boys took in a little lunch at The Pizza Kitchens, 120 Hayward Ave. With the theme from “Thelma and Louise” playing in the background, Tim and Paul walked down the stairs for their last meal together. Last meal they’d be paid to eat together, anyway.

Restaurant atmosphere

Tim: When we arrived, the restaurant was nearly empty. A rowdy group in the reserved banquet room nearly drowned out the Frank Sinatra playing overhead. I said “nearly”. You haven’t heard “My Way” until you hear it through Paul’s vocal chords. It makes nails on a chalkboard sound like the London Symphony.

Paul: That’s why the ladyyyy is a tramp. Tim said he could stand no more. I thought I’d offended his mother. And his sister. And oddly, Tim. Perhaps, not.

Classic Italian joint, The Pizza Kitchens. Red and white checkered tablecloth, place smelling of herbs and pizzas, Chairman of the Board going through a set. I half expected Brando to shuffle his 400 pounds across the clean tiled floor, welcome me to the family and tell me about the lunch special.

Tim: Actually, I saw Brando sneak out the back when you started butchering Sinatra, mumbling something about “disgracing the family.” The Pizza Kitchens is a good place to sit down to a meal; not too flashy, not too dull. You get what you pay for, and the food’s cheap here. Thumbs up for me.

Paul: Thumbs up for me too. Though thumbs down for Tim, who wanted to record our last meal together with “just a little something special,” as he put it. Tim repeatedly asked our waiter to play “Send in the Clowns,” while repeatedly trying to grab my hand – “for the memories” – then the waiter’s, then Brando’s, who was leaving, before settling on crying into his hand. I slapped him. Told him to get a grip on himself. “But how,” he said. I told him we’d always have that night in Bangladesh. He was ready to order after that.

Service

Tim: When my Mountain Dew was getting empty, the nice fella working was there to fill it up. Excellent service, if you ask me. Which you didn’t. But I’ll tell you anyway. And for some reason, he called us both “Bud.” “You need more Mountain Dew, Bud?” he’d ask. I was utterly confused. Usually, I hear, “You can’t have any more Bud, sir.”

Paul: “Need some more water there, Bud?” Yes, I’d say. The service wasn’t great for me. We looked over our menu for maybe eight minutes in a restaurant with only two other people eating, save the banquet room, before my water came. Sure, then, he was Johnny-on-the-spot for the refill, but the time spent getting me thewater was duly noted. As was the “Bud” reference.

Bud: Well, despite what Bud had to say, I thought the service was good. Bud was angry it took so long to order, but what Bud doesn’t tell you is that the guy who waited on us also was taking care of the rowdies in the banquet room. Bud, cut the man some slack. Thumbs up for me.

Bud: Whatever Dude, I mean Bud. After waiting for my water, I waited for my salad, which beat my meal to the table, but only by a photo finish. Refreshing my water to “wash down” my meal, as the waiter put it, at the end of our outing helped the service, but I still give it a thumbs down, banquet in the other room or not.

Food Quality

Tim: Whenever I’ve heard people talk about The Pizza Kitchens, it’s been all about their crock pizzas. I had no idea what a crock pizza was, but I decided to give it a try anyway. $6.50, 85 cents for the pepperoni. When it came, the waiter brought a bowl-like device (I’m assuming this is the crock) and tapped it with a spoon, making it fall onto the plate cheese side up.

Paul: Finishing my salad, I picked up one of the three slices of my Hawaiian pizza – lunch special $6.50 – what with the herbs sprinkled on top of the pineapple smothering both the canadian bacon and the cheese above the crispy, crumb-inducing crust.

The Pizza Kitchens serves good pizza, regardless of what you get. Unfortunately for me, the three pieces I got weren’t enough. So I looked over at Tim’s plate.

Tim: I was getting full. Crock pizzas will do that to you. About halfway through my first bite, I felt the breath of Paul on my neck. Hungry breath. Famished breath. I tried to move my seat away, but it was too late. He had caught the scent of the pepperoni. I conceded defeat and gave him a slice. A rather large slice, I might add. As for the pizza itself, it was both filling and tasty. Wasn’t too doughy, the sauce wasn’t overwhelming and the cheese was smothered over the top. Top notch. Thumbs up for me.

Paul: He was going to throw it away. I said “Tim, there are thousands of children starving in Rwanda. And one starving next to you. Don’t you dare throw your pizza away.”

Tim’s pizza was as good as mine, a bit much on the cheese side for my liking, but nothing that will take away from the crock pizza. Thumbs up for my pizza. Thumbs up for the other half of Tim’s pizza.