Renaldi's ain't no fancy shmancy pizza joint. Renaldi's would sooner drop kick you in the crotch and spit on your neck than put pineapple on your pizza. Renaldi's is the restaurant equivalent of a big fat pizza cook in an undershirt with a cigarette dangling from his mouth while he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Fuggetaboutit!"

Renaldi's also hasn't caught up with the box movement, and put my to-go slices on paper plates, separating them with squares of tinfoil and putting them into a paper bag. Mmm! Just watch the grease seep through!

But all my ninny, pizza snobbery aside, the pizza itself wasn't bad, though it did taste like exactly like a spice from Sbarros. Which isn't a horrible thing, as long as you enjoy having flashbacks of being 13 years old in the mall food court, with one of your friends begging you for five more bucks so he can buy the new Ace of Base CD. I said it was a friend buying it. A friend who wasn't me. I swear. I only liked that one song. Really!

Sigh. But I digress. To sum up: Nothing special, but a fine stop for a quick slice. A good choice if you have a nephew who goes "Why is there a leaf on my pizza?" when you take him somewhere nice that has basil or spices on the pie.

Fuggetinaboutit, Josh

Renaldi's Pizza Pub
2827 N Broadway St.
Chicago, IL 60657