Thin Crust Pizza at Marie’s Pizza and Liquors

What makes a restaurant charming? Does a novel business have charm? Is charm a product of age, giving older restaurants an unfair advantage? Are kitsch and charm intertwined? Or is it about the people and the warm feeling that they impart on patrons? I find it impossible to define the criteria, but I know that Marie’s Pizza & Liquors in Albany Park is damn charming.

Everything You Need, Nothing You Don’t

Yes, you read that right. Marie’s is a pizzeria, liquor store, and a bar all in one. In 1950, tavern owner George Karavidas had the creative stroke of genius to create this hybrid business. His uncommon courage and wisdom suggest divine inspiration. The fact that the city hasn’t commissioned a statue to honor this brilliant man in nothing short of a travesty.

Marie’s Pizza is split into two halves. The west side of the building is the pizzeria and bar, and the east side is a fully-stocked liquor store. Bottles of wine can be purchased from “Marie’s Vineyard” in the liquor store and brought over to the restaurant. Thanks to tamper-proof bags, patrons can take any unfinished wine home with them. There is a corking fee of three dollars. However, coupons for free corking are available on Marie’s atrocious website.

It might be unfair to call mariespizzachicago.com “atrocious,” as the designers might be in on the gag. The site is a carnival of colors and Comic Sans text, bedazzled with cheesy clip art. It harkens back to the days of Geocities and Webcrawler, and I enjoyed the walk down memory lane.

Smells and Heroism

Encyclopizzeria founder Erin Nederbo suggested Marie’s as a meeting place for an intense pizza blogging strategy session. I ventured into the liquor store as I waited for her to arrive. The store was dimly lit and smelled odd. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, but I wouldn’t adopt it as my personal musk. That said, I’d find it alarming if a liquor store established in 1940 didn’t have a curious scent.

The woman behind the counter, Nadine, was very friendly. She introduced herself and her dog Toula, proudly noting that Toula is a Greek name. She told me about Toula’s adventure spotting a would-be hijacker on a flight from O’Hare to Vegas. I won’t spoil the story, as it is best experienced first hand.

Sensory Overload

When Erin arrived, we headed to the restaurant side. Two pizzaiolos were hard at work in front of the restaurant, where pizzas are made out in the open. In fact, one can peek through the front window to see the pizza-making action, but I’d recommend going inside to eat rather than gawking from the sidewalk.

The dining room was a spectacular collection of textures. Some of the walls were faux stone, others were wood paneled, and others featured mirrors with graphic decorations. The chairs and booths were covered with bright red vinyl. The tables had a bronzed craquelure pattern. Erin pointed out that the pattern on the carpet looked like imitation poinsettias, like one might find at a craft store. Several chandeliers hung from the dropped ceiling, which was covered with inexpensive beige tiles. The combination of all these elements could have been chaotic, but they conspired to create a warm ambiance from an indistinct bygone era. I felt like I was in someone’s basement.

As I was taking in the visual feast, I nearly forgot that we was there for pizza. We ordered a large thin crust sausage pizza. Erin had a Peroni on draft and I had a Coke, which tasted oddly like RC. Our total came to $24.21 before tip.

The pizza honored the restaurant’s theme of visually rich textures. The surface was a lively mix of orange, red and yellow. It glistened as the oils rendered from the cheese rose to the surface.

The Standard Bearer

If you were introducing Chicago thin crust pizza to a friend who had never tried it before, you’d be well-served in taking them to Marie’s. This was textbook Chicago-style thin crust pizza.

The crust was crunchy and quite thin, yet sturdy under the weight of the toppings. The flavor of the crust was understated to let the toppings shine. The sauce was tangy with a noticeable oregano flavor. The mozzarella was mild, and its texture perfectly gooey and chewy. I found the sausage notable. The meat was tender with garlic and pepper notes and only a faint hint of fennel flavor. The party-cut slices were quite satisfying. I conquered my half of the pie quickly, then encroached on Erin’s side.

Summary (Fear of Hipsters)

There isn’t an aspect of Marie’s thin crust pizza that makes it stand out from the vast competition in Chicago, but that’s not a bad thing. The pizza was solid in every regard.

A trip to Marie’s is about more than just the pizza. It’s about the complete experience, that mystical charm that is impossible to replicate. I’d stop by Marie’s if I was looking for a bite to eat in Albany Park, but I’m far more likely to share the memorable experience with friends. I’m apprehensive about publishing this review, though. I fear that I’ll return to Marie’s in a few weeks, and find the place inundated with mustachioed hipsters who were drawn to the kitsch.

Marie’s Pizza & Liquors
4127 W Lawrence Ave
Chicago, IL 60630
Phone: (773) 725-1812 or (773) 685-5030
http://mariespizzachicago.com/

Hours
Monday: 12:00 PM-11:00 PM
Tuesday – Thursday: 11:00 AM-11:00 PM
Friday – Saturday: 11:00 AM-12:00 AM
Sunday: 12:00 PM-11:00 PM