When the Moon Hits Your Eye

Written By: Luke Osteen | Issue: 2017/11 - November | Photograph By: Marjorie Christiansen Photography

I’m a sucker for a good pizza. But my love of pizza is well-earned and proclaimed without reservation.

In writing this review, I looked back to the momentous times in my life and realized that, somehow , in nearly every emotion-freighted situation, there’s been pizza in the background – birthdays, graduations, too-cool-for-cake weddings, ordinary (yet deeply precious) meals shared by too-frequently scattered family members, bon voyages for too-dear friends, the birth of my beloved son, wakes. Each event is inextricably linked to this seemingly most-humble of ethnic appropriations.

How does this happen?  How did a staple of the working-class 18th Neapolitans work its way into the hearts and stomachs of people around the world?

Well, I’m sure there’s a Ph.d dissertation that can get into the why’s and wherefore’s far better than the pages of Laurel, but I’m going to surmise that it’s a combination of its modest pricetag, the speed with which it can be served up, and the fact that it’s so often bound to those moments of great emotional import in our lives. Pizza is comfort food of the first order.

Let me explain this idea in more detail and demonstrate how it fits into this review of Sky Pie Pizza.

Last month, at the end of a long week laden with setbacks and disappointments and frustrations, my sweetie and I made our way to Mountain Brook Center in Highlands. It was a cold, dim, drizzly night and I was really in no mood to be out, much less review a new restaurant. In my mind this was one more chore to be scratched off the list. That’s added to the fact that I get reimbursed for these reviews after they come out and my wallet was screamingly thin at the moment. These are not ideal conditions to evaluate a place.

Things (my attitude) began to change when we entered Sky Pie Pizza.

First of all, it was warm and dry.

But more than that, it was the natural temperament  of the restaurant. In one room was a birthday party for an eight-year-old girl. It was boisterous and busy and punctuated with laughter.

In the dining room was a crowd of people watching a football game. It was boisterous and busy and punctuated with laughter.

How on earth can you not be elevated by this?

I was also cheered watching my pie being made. There’s something infectious about skilled craftspeople working with economy and precision and enthusiasm. That’s what I witnessed as they slid my pizza into the oven.

As I said, I was really in no mood to be out on the town, so we took our food home and sat on the couch eating, watching something ridiculous on Netflix. I loved my Pepperoni and Bacon Pizza (with a thin and crispy crust) and Tricia savored her Fettuccini Alfredo with Chicken (that’s her comfort food). As we vegetated into bliss, sure enough, pizza had transformed my screamingly ordinary night into something that, all things considered, was pretty great.

That’s something remarkable for a
simple meal.  

(As a side note, let me tell you about my first encounter with Sky Pie Pizza. They were serving up slices at Highlands Rotary’s Craft Beer Night. That’s right, the night that raises money for so many good things in Highlands, the events and agencies that make this community extraordinary, was bound in my heart and mind with Sky Pie Pizza. Pizza, beer, music and dancing, all in the service of doing good works. How’s that for a slice of gold?)

I recommend Sky Pie Pizza for those times when your worldview could use a bit of adjustment. It’s also great for celebrations and televised games and moments to cherish with family and friends.

Trust me. You’ll see what I mean.

P.S. I just learned that they deliver for lunch! Talk about an easy way to adjust your attitude at work or at home.