Bobby Benedict, contributor
I’m very partial to both Reno and pizza.
I’m sure you’ve been subjected to many opinions on regional pizzas, from the purists in New York to the gearheads in Detroit who are convinced you need to make a Sicilian-style pizza on an old Chevy or whatever. The world is full of pizza pandering, pulling the garlicky rug right out from under traditionalists and putting their regional flags deep into the crust of Italian flavor to claim their cheesy slice of Americana. The windy city has to laugh in the face of tornado alley and sculpt entire towers out of pizza with their deep dish monstrosity, and California is just making their bullshit clean and tasty thin crust (boring). I needed to shine a light on the new kid on the block of regional pizza: Reno-style pizza.
If you know anything about the Biggest Little City, you know that it is a haven for gambling, gluttony, and following the comedy rule of 3s, there’s should have been a 3rd G, but I just want to put hookers, so fuck you. That’s the exact type of attitude that goes into the deep flavor of the Reno-style pizza. It’s not deep dish, it’s not thin crust. It’s not cooked in some weird order. Much like Reno, it’s as pure as pizza can get, but with the dirtiest ingredients possible, and somehow we find a way to just shank it wide left.
We start the biggest little pizza with a 48-hour cold fermented dough that we roll out paper thin, then fold back in on itself until covered in crevices — it’s not round, it’s not square; each pizza is a unique shape, like the nipples of every $10 working girl. This dough is thick, like the smoky air of the burning hills, which we then smother in tomatoes with less flavor than our dying nightlife. The cheese would be your savior if we bothered to remember, but the burnout pill addict fell asleep kneading the dough and had to scramble. From that you dive into toppings: Dollar Tree turkey pepperoni, candy cigarettes that are just candied actual cigarettes, Spam with a tooth in it, or an obviously photoshopped picture of mayor Hillary Schieve, naked. So, just another reason to not come to Reno — or, another reason to come and make fun of it. We don’t give a shit, we have your money.