This place. Man, oh man. This place.
The other day I was at work, being my normal self, explaining how I was coming off a four day pizza binge. One of my co-workers piped up that there was a new pizza joint in his hood. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That’s all he said. There there was a new place. Not that it was good, or bad, or boring or anything. Just, “Pig Ate My Pizza”
The lack of details eventually ate away at me and I rounded up my brother for a little field trip. It was my adoption day, so he said it was my choice, his treat. We buckled up and drove out to the suburbs, with this nondescript pizza joint in mind. Turns out, Robbinsdale is super cute. We easily found (free) parking and wandered in. 20 minutes wait? That’s not bad.
We admired the artwork, giggled at the servers for their birthday song singing and heckling at each other for breaking a dish. The atmosphere was bustling- the kitchen was mostly open, and there was a fairly large beer selection. The tables can be family style too, which I really like. Eventually, we were plopped along the end of a family eating.
Holy sow this place was good. We started with some pork belly bao, wiggled some ribs down the hatch and barely finished our scallop, fiddlehead and bacon pizza. I felt like I had pork coming out of my ears, but enjoyed every minute of it. Give yourself some time to get seated, there’s bound to be a wait. But make the trip, it’s totally worth it.
You can find Pig Ate My Pizza at:
4154 W Broadway Avenue