[SUBJECT: Zachary's Chicago Pizza]
[WARNING: the following review reflects the opinions of a highly biased former Chicagoan]

Zachary’s is not truly authentic Chicago-style deep dish…

But it is good.

A panel of two Chicagoans have approved the following analysis of the standard spinach and mushroom deep-dish pizza:

The sauce is fresh-tasting and zesty, although a bit too fresh-tasting for true Chicago standards, but no complaints.
The cheese is high quality.
The spinach was fresh-tasting and well cooked, not exuding moist-ness into the pie.
The mushrooms were properly cooked.
The fillings were abundant, but not over-abundant.

The crust was… ok. For graduates of UIUC, it resembles a Papa Del’s dough crust than the delectable yet filling Chicago-style cornmeal crust a la Lou Malnati’s. It did seem to have more effort put into it than simply doubling the amount of dough found in a thin crust, which many Bay Area “Chicago-style” pizza parlors (*cough*Paxti’s*cough*) seem to find acceptable.

In the final analysis, it was pretty good, evidenced by the fact that my first bite put a huge grin on this Chicago-style deep dish snob’s face. Truth be told, I’d go back, and am one of the SF residents clamoring to see a Zachary’s open up on this side of the bay.

But it still isn’t a substitute for the Lou. Thank goodness for FedEx overnight.

[SUBJECT: Patxi's Chicago Pizza in Hayes Valley]
[WARNING: the following review reflects the opinions of a highly biased, former Chicagoan]

No.

A spinach and mushroom deep-dish pie:

Mediocre sauce. In Chicago, the only place you would expect to find sauce like that is at the pizza place in terminal C of the O’hare airport.

Watery spinach, and not nearly enough of it.
Were there even any mushrooms? In 3 slices, I found 2.

The crust, though, is the defining feature of this pizza. Take two California-style thin crusts, smoosh together, roll out into a thicker crust, and put it in a deep dish pan. That’s all it takes, right?

No.

Overall, Paxti’s isn’t disgusting, it’s just… wrong. I’ll give one extra star for immediate seating, and the service, which was pretty good.

But I’ll take away that star for being the force behind the eventual demise of Powell’s Place. I’d much rather have good chicken ‘n’ waffles at this location than airport-food-court-quality pizza.

Sorry.

[WARNING: the following reflects the opinions of a highly biased former Chicagoan]

One night, I was stuck at home alone when a magical pixie showed up on my doorstep carrying a little star.

The poor little star had grown cold during the long train ride from the mission to Ocean Beach, so the pixie turned on the oven to provide it warmth.

The little star was filled with things I’m not used to finding inside a crust like that… in the land I am from, ricotta and feta are not found inside the crust…

But the crust of the little star was golden, and crispy and delicious, covered in stardust, almost like those I have become accustomed to in the land I am from.

But it is true that it was a *little* star. While the crust on the bottom was thick, the sides weren’t deep, leaving little room for the wonderful things a little star should contain. But what little it did contain was good and did not moisten the interior of the little star, which would certainly put out its glow.

And as the little star was good, we consumed it’s radiance, and diluted only with the nectar of the gods.

But then a monster appeared who tried to capture and torture the magical pixie. But luckily, the pixie fled in just the nick of time, leaving the monster to grumble with a rumbling belly – a belly that could not contain the radiance of the little star.

*stardust = cornmeal