BYO napkins

The fact that Big Apple Pizza and Subs is in a shopping center with fake blue stucco windows should have been a tip-off that I was in trouble. As I approached the door to Big Apple for the first time, I had high hopes and a fondness for pizza. I left with neither of those things still intact.

In-house dining did not appear to be a priority at Big Apple. The interior decorating was sparse and, where present, a tacky reminder of the worst aesthetic aspects of the 1980s. The tables, chairs and wallpaper looked like they’d been purchased cheap and in bulk from a place that was chucking them after remodeling for the first time in 20 years. There was an old soda fountain with generic sodas I’d never heard of, including “MD Fibber,” which, as near as I can figure, must mean “Dr. Liar"—this made sense since it was just a dishonest version of Dr. Pepper.

The most startling moment of my first visit came when I flipped on the light switch in the bathroom. Posters for New York sports teams hung on the walls, which were sponge-painted with bright colors. Over every inch not covered by a poster, there was text—the names of celebrities, plays, movies and tourist sites affiliated with New York.

We ordered our pizza at the counter, and the pizza was served quickly. We ordered a 14-inch with mushrooms and garlic ($12.50 plus $1.50 per topping). It was messy and greasy, and since the crust was thin and soggy, it was nearly impossible to eat without fork and knife. The utensils were plastic. The plates were paper. The pizza was sauce-heavy, and the sauce was acidic. The garlic was minced, and the mushrooms didn’t seem fresh.

The pizza, as I said, was messy. I needed to use many of Big Apple’s thin paper napkins. When I asked the waitress-type person for more napkins, she brought them, but also suggested I go wash my hands. There was something in her tone that suggested it was somehow my fault that my fingers were filthily greasy and there was nothing at our table sufficient to clean them.

In general, the service was friendly—though often overbearing and occasionally disruptive. The young man who served our pizza was wearing headphones and had an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. This struck me as not only unprofessional, but a health hazard. On more than one occasion, some of my companions commented on how they felt as though they were someplace there were not supposed to be, like they were intruding.

The good points: free soda refills (on $1.50 sodas), tasty ranch dressing, the pizza and subs are quite large, and the buffalo wing appetizers (12 for $5.75) were good—though not spicy enough for my tastes. And if this place just got some arcade games, it would be a great hangout spot for stoned teen-agers.

In all fairness, Big Apple hasn’t been around very long and is perhaps a little confused about what it wants to be. It’s almost a family restaurant, almost a sports bar, almost a neighborhood hang-out and almost a take-out pizza place. But it’s exactly none of these—nor is it original enough to be unique.

But Big Apple does seem to be well on the way to establishing a regular clientele. I overheard one large, happy, mustachioed customer proclaim, "This is the best pizza in town—no question!"