ed. note: The original review for this establishment is a fart in the wind, I got this jerk to re-review for me. - Pete
I found the old review. God bless backups. I'll keep this one around to show how hit-or-miss this wacky-ass place can be. - Pete
Goodfellas Pizza is located in the University Landing area. The first time I attempted to eat here, luck was not on my side. According to the sign on the door, it was "closed for family emergency". Well fuck your family emergency - my pizza emergency trumps your shit any day. I had an hour to waste before class that day, and although the idea of breaking into Goodfellas and handcrafting my own pizza was tempting, I decided to go to Bdobo instead. Yes, I just linked to Bdobo. It's fucking delicious and likely steals all business from the surrounding area.
That aside, I returned to Goodfellas a few days later. It was much bigger on the inside than I anticipated, yet it was completely empty. Perhaps I came at a weird hour, who the hell knows. I was offered a seat and a menu, but I said, "No, fuck you, I just want some god damn cheese pizza." I think I prefer the pizza joints in New York where they reply, "Fuck you too, faggot" and throw the pizza directly at your groin, but I suppose a nice atmosphere and friendly staff shouldn't detract from my rating. I ended up getting two slices of pizza and a drink for $4.99, because a) I'm a ravenous, pizza-starved fatass, and b) $2.50+tax for a single plain slice? Piss off.
I was surprised to see that, unlike the other two establishments I've reviewed, this pizza didn't look like complete and utter shit. Upon handing it to me, the waitress/cashier notified me of her uncertainty as to what was actually in the drink she gave me. I ordered Dr. Pepper, but apparently all their drinks exist in a state of quantum uncertainty until the moment they are consumed. I can only assume I received a lethal mixture of high fructose corn syrup and hydrochloric acid. Thankfully, this was promptly replaced with slightly less dangerous Dr. Pepper. After that - and after the waitress saw me taking pictures of the food and scribbling down notes - she offered me an infinite amount of refills, which I injected straight into my bloodstream, bypassing my stomach, and allowing more room for the pizza to gut-fuck me into oblivion.
But who fucking cares about what I had to drink. The pizza was surprisingly good, and I immediately decided $2.50 for a single slice might actually be worth it, even for a penniless hobo like myself. The slice's most noteworthy quality was the cheese. I have no idea what they use or how they do it, but the cheese tasted of ambrosia-infused godliness. It was as if the Occupy Capt. Falcon's Mouth protest was going on, and I was happily allowing the cheese to riot and form drum circles on my tastebuds. 99% delicious.
Also of note - fairly large slices, perfectly thin crust, and a favorable amount of grease to top it off. After I had finished most of the first slice and the cheese was moshing in my gut, I noticed the rim of the pizza had been somewhat neglected. It wasn't much a problem, though, due to the fact that the crust was quite satisfying. I didn't have the presence of mind to judge the sauce, either because I know nothing about pizza sauce or because I was too busy drooling all over myself. Either way, the sauce must not have been too bad, because I dove into the next slice like a starving Ethiopian child.
I'm so used to Falcon punching my keyboard with flaming fists of rage while writing these reviews that it seems wrong not to slander Goodfellas in some way. They were closed the first time I went there, which I would love to be pissed off about, but really that just shows that they're a family-run business, at least in part. I received the wrong drink, but the waitress soon extinguished my fury by treating me like the ultimate god of pizza. Also, I didn't get crayons and a page from a coloring book like the kids a few tables over, but the waitress metaphorically sucking my dick assuaged any dissatisfaction before it had a chance to fully form.
My only real concern came from the second slice, which had an odd dough-to-cheese ratio. There was a tsunami of cheese atop a paper-thin scaffold, but, being the cheesewhore I am, I wasn't too bothered by that. All in all, shit was pretty good. I'd rank it just below Brooklyn and I <3 NY Pizza, which is something I never anticipated, seeing as Pete usually sends me to the shittiest shit-holes in town. If I'm ever in the area and in the mood for pizza, I'll definitely return to Goodfellas.
As long as Bdobo doesn't lure me away.
2 recircs out of a possible 8 recircs (lower is better)
Goodfellas Pizza - $2.50 + tax
417 South College Road, Wilmington, NC 28403
Over on the right there, a little ways down, are some links to sites I frequent. I had been trying to keep it to just pizza-related shit, with the exception of Port City Foodies. But since this blog is nearly as much about shitty Wilmington as it is about shitty pizza, I added a few links and am writing this post mostly as filler because I'm sick of eating pizza and writing crummy reviews all the damn time.
Bake or Buy - Whoever writes this blog is either a futuristic baking robot or ... nope, definitely a futuristic baking robot. I don't always read the entire post since I'm too lazy to bake fuck-all anyway; sometimes I just skip down to whether she recommends baking or buying, and the associated costs. This highlights my laziness as well as my
Jewish frugal nature. My one recommendation to her would be to increase the number of posts per page because as it is, it sorta makes me want to circumcise a whole brood of chinchillas with a rapier. I don't know why this is my reaction because I don't own a rapier and barely know what a chinchilla is so there you go.
Burgers and Brews - The first thing that attracted me to this site was the fucking name. Well it turns out that he reviews more than just burgers and brews, which I guess is okay. I'm not demanding my money back or anything. But he should talk more about beer because beer is fucking great. He should also talk less about photography and other crap and talk more about exploring the Amazon river with big-tittied babes who are trying to rebuild a spaceship in order to fight moon nazis, on the moon, while naked, with pillows. Well it's just a thought.
liquorlunch - This is a new blog and obviously right up my alley. The idea for this blog was probably stolen from me because in the past I mentioned I wanted to start a whiskey review blog, but I'll give the author a pass because writing a review blog is boring, thankless work which I'll mostly be glad to be done with when the time comes. At least this guy here doesn't have to worry about enraged local pizza shop owners making voodoo dolls of him, cursing his name all day. The real tragedy here would be if writing about booze all the time causes the author to get sick of booze. Haha, yeah right.
I don't know where this fucking "Dr. Oetker" got his degree but it wasn't Pizza University. First of all this pizza looks 7 kinds of retarded:
Once you cook it, it doesn't look as retarded but the weird pesto-like blobs become more apparent. I guess they're really just clumped-up minced basil but I thought it was stupid. I guess they do this instead of putting leaves on that might burn? I don't really know. It wasn't that bad.
As is often the case where some dumb motherfucker decides to be fancy and use classy mozzarella, shit backfires. Such is the case here where the good Doctor was trying to fancificate frozen pizza and failed miserably, because the cheese tasted of approximately nothing besides stupidity and week-old farts. Furthermore the crust was mediocre. It reminded me of Palermo's except worse. For the record I love the shit out of Palermo's Margherita pizza.
I don't have anything to say about the sauce. The tomatoes on top were really good.
As much shit as I've talked about this pizza, I actually enjoyed eating it, mainly because: I was drunk; I stole it and it was thusly free; and it kind of reminded me of Palermo's. I'd eat this again, should I be given another opportunity to discreetly steal a box.
For the record I stole it from my parents' house so I may be a thief but at least I'm also a loser.
Dr. Oetker is a shitbird.