For some unnatural reason, Stanford still hasn't started its school year. As a happy result, I met up with Ben today, who flies to California later this week. We headed to New Haven's fabled Pepe's, about which I'd heard many reverent superlatives, but I hadn't had the chance to visit (sorry, they don't deliver).
It would be remiss of me not to mention that Pepe's probably has the worst service I've ever experienced this side of the Atlantic—the first thing you see as you approach the restaurant, appropriately, is a large red stop sign on the door that bluntly tells you to wait outside until someone comes to get you. Somehow, in our daze of excitement and hunger, we missed the sign and accidentally stepped inside, where we were greeted by an unpleasant "Step back outside!" Eventually, a waitress came and informed us we could head to table 25, which was being cleared.
15 minutes later, my first bite was all it took to render the poor service less than irrelevant: the generous layer of sizzling mozzarella atop a thin Neapolitan pie crunched perfectly between my teeth and essentially left me in bright-eyed wonder. I'm generally not a big fan of pizza, but honestly, Pepe's is truly exceptional. Dear Yalies, even if you have to take a cab, go try a slice (which might quickly become two pies).