
+2
There are places you walk into expecting lunch, and then there are places that somehow turn lunch into a full campaign encounter.
Anthony & Luca’s Pizza Kitchen was the second kind of place for me.
The place is pretty basic, and I mean that as a compliment. It isn’t trying to be some over-designed “culinary experience.” It’s a pizza joint. You walk in, smell baked dough, hot cheese, garlic and meat. If this were a D&D tavern, the barbarian would be arm-wrestling somebody, the rogue would be stealing napkins, and the cook would be sliding pizzas into the oven while War Pigs played loud enough to violate a village ordinance.
I came specifically for the Garlic Philly Cheesesteak, so the quest seemed simple: order cheesesteak, destroy cheesesteak, collect XP, and leave before my cholesterol could file a formal complaint.
When it arrived, it looked like a sandwich with a Strength requirement. The roll was packed with steak, onions, melted cheese and enough garlic that Dracula probably burst into flames somewhere around Clearwater. The steak was savory and juicy, the cheese had melted into every crevice, and the garlic had no interest in subtlety. There are foods where you detect “a hint of garlic.” This was not that. The garlic kicked down the door, drank your beer, changed the thermostat and announced that it lived there now.
Unfortunately, I was eating a cheesesteak inside a pizza place, and I could not stop looking at the pizza. I’d take a bite, glance toward the slices, look back at the enormous sandwich already in my hands, then somehow find myself staring at the pizza again. It started feeling less like hunger and more like the Dungeon Master had deliberately placed a cursed magical artifact within eyesight just to see what I would do.
The sensible part of my brain kept saying, “You already have a giant cheesesteak.” The other part, which apparently has the impulse control of a goblin in a fireworks warehouse, kept saying, “But you’re in a pizza place.”
Eventually I failed the Wisdom saving throw and ordered a slice of the Boardwalk Pizza, genuinely thinking it would be a side quest.
It was not.
One bite and the entire campaign changed. The crust had a nice crispness underneath while still having some chew, the cheese was hot and stretchy, the sauce actually had personality, and the whole thing was much better than I expected. I stopped and looked at the slice for a second like it had just spoken to me.
At that point the cheesesteak was still sitting there being excellent, completely unaware that its main-character status had just been revoked. Somewhere a double-bass drum started pounding, an invisible guitarist began shredding a solo that probably required six fingers, and a second health bar appeared.
The Boardwalk Pizza was the hidden boss.
I almost feel bad saying that because the cheesesteak really was very good, but the pizza showed up late, rolled a natural 20, cast some forbidden cheese-based spell and stole all the XP. Within a few bites I had gone from “I’ll just try a slice” to “Why didn’t I order a whole pizza?”
The pictures capture my mental state: cheesesteak, pizza and Coke in front of me, both thumbs up, looking like a dwarf who just reclaimed his ancestral mountain and discovered the treasure vault contains unlimited mozzarella.
That’s what I liked about Anthony & Luca’s. No pretension, no tiny portions arranged with tweezers, no 17-minute progressive-metal intro before the drums finally kick in. Just fire up the ovens, turn the amps to eleven, throw meat and cheese into the forge and see who survives.
The Garlic Philly Cheesesteak was worthy of the quest, but the Boardwalk Pizza was the legendary drop I never saw coming. I walked in wanting a cheesesteak and walked out thinking about pizza, which is probably the highest compliment I can give without getting their logo tattooed somewhere irresponsible.
Apparently the campaign isn’t over. My Wisdom modifier remains -3.