Nothing makes you feel more welcome in a restaurant than a sign reading, "If you're grouchy, irritable or just plain mean, there will be a $10 charge for putting up with you" in huge letters. But then again, Lorenzo & Son isn't really a restaurant and the management could give a rat's ass about being your friend. Lorenzo's is not for the faint-hearted, but chances are, if that's your type then you probably wouldn't be wandering around South Street anyway. Those guys are fucking mean, but the pizza is good enough for me to momentarily suppress my ego and return with the dim hope of befriending the counter help.
Think Soup Nazi meets Allegro's, only better food and a dingier setup. For just $2, a Lorenzo's slice is roughly the same price as an average slice -- but twice its size. The dough is flimsy and soft, and though the mozzarella still tastes somewhat raw, it is melted enough to slide off the slice as you pick it up. But don't try to get adventurous with your pizza: Lorenzo's won't do toppings. Fortunately, the pizza is good enough to pull off such treachery. It's not the best pizza I've ever tried -- indulging in every Ray's Pizza in the New York City phonebook -- but it's arguably the best pizza in Philly. There isn't a whole lot of variety -- your choices essentially include a plain slice with a drink (for an extra dollar) or a plain slice without one, with little variation in between. In case that's not clear, there's another sign saying, "Toppings on Pizza: Don't even think about it." They don't like it when you get cute with them.
Decor is not something on which Lorenzo's prides itself, but then again, nobody goes to Lorenzo's seeking some euphoric fine-dining experience. The tiny, gray interior resembles a basement more than an authentic Italian pizza parlor, but that doesn't stop the masses. There are no tables or booths, just a small, borderline-claustrophobic room in the very back of the shop with counters around the perimeter and mirrored walls. It's pretty damn weird trying to escape your own reflection while you're devouring pizza.
There's no real protocol, but there is an intuitive, unspoken creed that ye who enter must follow: for the love of God, do not hold up the line! In such a small shop, it's hardly uncommon for the line of customers to snake behind the counter and spurt onto the sidewalk. While a steady flow of people drift in and out during the day, come Saturday night the line nearly curls around the corner until its 3 a.m. close.
So if you're stumbling back to campus this weekend looking to score a forty, some fried dough balls and a slice to accompany all that beer in your gut, Allegro's will suffice -- your senses would probably be too dulled to savor anything better. But if you're already downtown and looking for a place to drown your drunken debauchery in grease, Lorenzo's is the perfect destination.
