Dec 9, 2020
It’s not the flavor, it’s how you set the mood
Whole Wheat Vegan Pot Pizza
Food Week
Does anyone live in Austin, especially South Austin, who never heard of Sue’s organic whole wheat all-vegan pot pizza? Hipsters, heads, stoners and starving artists drive from the Gulf Coast, Panhandle and Mexican border. Hungry? Drop by Sue’s. Any time of day or night. She makes them in her own kitchen, never leaves her oven empty. Even after she goes to bed, she keeps a batch warming, waiting for you to ring her doorbell.
Just walk in and say hello, or step over the sleeping bodies on her living room floor. Take a slice or a whole pie. All she asks is that you leave cash on the counter, and take another from the fridge and pop it in the oven should you take the last slice. It’s called courtesy. A small price to pay for a slice that makes angels weep.
Is it safe? Nobody would ever rob Sue. Too many bikers feast on those heavy crusts covered with homemade tomato sauce, tofu cheese, and “oregano.” In fact, the oregano is the most important ingredient. She grows it in her basement in a hydroponic garden.
Hungry? Drop by Sue’s. Any time of day or night. She makes the pizzas in her own kitchen, never leaves her oven empty. Even after she goes to bed, she keeps a batch warming, waiting for you to ring her doorbell.
A food critic for The Austin Chronicle, having heard of Sue’s pies, dropped by for a sample one afternoon, in January, must have been 2009. Right around the time of Obama’s inauguration. At least he knew one rule. If you’re thirsty, bring your beer. He showed up with a six-pack of Shiner Bock. But he didn’t know the primary rule. He dropped into a chair at Sue’s table and waited for someone to serve him.
By the time he asked for help, he was two beers down and pretty angry. “It’s self-serve,” the others shouted back in unison. (I heard this story from Pete Smowkhout, when he was running the night shift at the Salvation Army. Before he dropped a twisted batch of Europa, mistook a can of Sterno for his morning coffee and went blind.)
So the food reviewer fishes for a plate, fork and knife (I kid you not), and lifts a slice from the oven with the fork, drops it onto the plate and cuts into it with his knife. He spears the bite with his fork, drops it on his tongue, chews for two minutes — like when we were kids and our mothers made us chew 32 times — and announces, “This is the blandest, most boring pizza I’ve ever tasted.”
“Finish your slice and have another,” everyone yells in unison. So he does. And then a third slice, and a fourth. Finally, he calls Uber to take him home. His review was the shortest in Chronicle history. “Wow!!!!!”
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Wry noir author Phillip T. Stephens wrote Cigerets, Guns & Beer, Raising Hell, the Indie Book Award winning Seeing Jesus, and the children’s book parody Furious George. Follow him at Phillip T Stephens.
