The Arugula Pergola, Part I

I often visit restaurants on the recommendation of friends or other food critics. In the case of the Arugula Pergola, however, I was compelled to visit because of a warning. I had been receiving a number of anonymous e-mails from close friends in the food community, who told me that although my wide-ranging exploration of the eatery world was commendable, there was one place I should never visit... the Arugula Pergola. I was told that the building site on which the Perg' was erected had once been the scene of a grisly and brutal crime. This lovely stone-and-timber cuisinery was once a horrifying house of terror. Numerous ghost enthusiasts have told me that the...leftovers,if you will, of this crime's victims were still aromatic in this upscale venue. To enter the Arugula Pergola, I was assured, was to offer my mind as just one more sacrifice to the phantom maniac of Arugula Pergola. Near the entrance of the restaurant, a woman in her early seventies wearing an orange vest was seated at a card table laid out with cheaply printed flyers and brochures. A banner hung on the table stating, "Beware the curse of the Arugula!" I walked swiftly past her, averting my eyes, though I did drop a few pieces of loose change into the slotted plastic lid on the can she shook like an Eliotian "dead geranium" in my face. The label on the can stated that the purpose was to raise funds for "future victims of the curse," and since I could not be completely sure I would not at some point need some assistance on that end, I let a few pennies plummet to the bottom of the can. Walking in, I immediately felt a "cold spot." This may have been due to my poor sense of direction's leading me through the kitchen doors and into a walk-in freezer. Have you ever smelled a freezer full of freezer-burn vegetables? Yecch. Not a fan. When I was rescued from the freezer, I made my way to the hostess station. I see that "hostess" calls up various opportunities for wordplay such as "ghostess" but I will not pursue them. I was led to my table beneath a wagon-wheel chandelier hung with fake cobwebs. The waitron when he finally arrived was dressed like some kind of old-west mortician. Clearly someone had decided to turn the upscale Pergola into some sort of sensationalistic ghost tour. I couldn't have been more disappointed. "Would you care for any appetizers?" the waitron asked, rather pryingly, in my opinion. "We have a wonder panko-encrusted fried popsicle. It's hauntingly refreshing!" I ordered the popsicle and a glass of kiwi jelly and perused the menu. Apparently the Pergola had "gone electronic," because I was told there were no paper menu's (I know, there's an apostrophe there--I've gone into this ad nauseum)and I was to use the touch screen. I was happily "pinching" the icons (a gesture which makes people look like some annoying combination of magician and symphony conductor) when... The power went out. [TO BE CONTINUED]

Student Driver Pizza

A combination driving school/pizza delivery service is one of those high-concept restaurant ideas that can either be ludicrous or laudable. In the case of "Student Driver Pizza," the pendulum is fortunately stuck at fantastic.

I recently ordered a large pizza, anchovies only, no cheese, from "Student Driver Pizza," and I was pleasantly surprised. First, by the website. While the site did feature grainy black-and-white footage of the aftermaths of auto accidents, it was otherwise user-friendly and fun. Easy to navigate, the site allowed me to order the pizza within seconds, without any tiresome "logging in" or "registering."

I must admit that the pizza took quite a while to arrive. In fact, when the pizza arrived, I was no longer hungry, having availed myself of whatever leftovers I could assemble into an omelet. I wasn't upset, though--not a bit! Safety first is my motto, in food safety and in driving safety. These are student drivers, remember! They're supposed to drive slow. Slowly.

The delivery person arrived at the door with a beefy older man in a short-sleeved shirt in tow. He must have been the driving instructor/supervisor. He shepherded the delivery person through the entire process of unzipping the thermal pouch (more important than ever when the driver is a student!), handing me the receipt and pen (which the supervisor kindly uncapped for me--marvelous!) and processing my credit card. The instructor even had his own credit-card machine so he could stop the transaction instantly if the worker made a mistake! The whole operation took only a few minutes, and compared to the six-hour wait I had patiently endured, the time flew by like mere seconds.

How was the pizza? Well, I must say that I was heartened that "Student Driver Pizza" did not succumb to the temptation of shaping the pizzas like road signs: Stop signs, Yield signs, Merge, Railroad Crossing, and the like. Well, it was shaped like a Railroad Crossing sign, but that was unavoidable in a pizza.

The pizza tasted wonderful, with a piquant surface of anchovies laid down like hot, salty tar on the concrete-crunchy crust. Amazing! Call me a fan. I not only like them, but I "like" them (you Facebook fanatics will know of what I'm talking about. Of? About? Hmm).

Overall, then, if you are patient enough to wait for a long delivery time, I believe you will love Student Driver Pizza. What a fabulous service the owners are providing for the youth of today, lending them both employment and needed, practical instruction in the art and craft of operating a motor vehicle. A glance at the company website shows that a new restaurant concept is in the works--Community Service Driving School Pizza, which apparently will combine punitive, community-service style driving lessons with pizza delivery. I for one can't wait!

For their anchovies, and for their vision, I give Student Driver Pizza--five Green Lights!