I ... I hate you.

As one of the most renowned streets in the best city in the greatest state in one of the top 50 countries in the most inhabitable planet that I’m personally aware of, Brady Street has a little something for everyone.

Lovers of decadent hot dogs, shitty taverns that refuse to adhere to the state’s workplace smoking ordinance, homeless people, and juggling emporiums with rhyming names alike can bide their time in this wonderful 9-block Milwaukee oasis. But fatass drunk assholes with an outside interest in unicycle purchase such as myself aren’t the only ones who can get something from Brady Street. Dirty hippies, too, can imbibe in this Eastside jewel on Milwaukee’s shimmering crown.
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Booooo!!!

Pizza and blow jobs are a lot alike. So long as nobody is biting your dick, you’re going to enjoy receiving even the worst of either thing.

The former is proved accurate by Marco’s Pizza (111 E. Forest Hill Ave., Oak Creek). A while back, I gave a pie from the T. Mario’s work-adjacent pizzeria a try. The experience can be summed up by placing one’s palms tightly against one’s lips and making a drawn out sound reminiscent of a wet fart. But since I can’t effectively execute this noise in text, and I know dick about making mp3s, I’ll do the next best thing and write about why Marco’s isn’t very good.
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After learning that a pizza place was to open on Milwaukee’s vastly underutilized Downer Avenue and that it was affiliated with crosstown ‘za czars Transfer, I was struck with an excitement unparalleled by any previous pizza venue’s opening I can personally remember.

The weeks that followed were agonizing — like waiting to open a potato gun-shaped Christmas present from that awesome uncle you have who works with PVC pipe at his job (potato farmer is also an applicable occupation for this analogy). But somehow, much in thanks to fantasy baseball, Internet pornography and drinking to the point of blackout, I managed to stave off an impatience-based hari kari and live to see the beautiful day that Via Downer opened for business.
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Years ago, when someone in Milwaukee wanted De Marinis pizza, they simply went to the one location. Now they get an unwanted debate.

Rumor (Willis) has it that somewhere along the line, the DeMarinis family was split by a dispute powerful enough to cause the DeMarinis sons — Dom and Phil — to branch out and open their own DeMarinis pizza parlor not but two blocks away from MaMa DeMarinis’. I like to think it was all Jenga-related.

Though family feuds are never a good thing, especially when talking about the TV game show Family Feud, we thought it only fair to give both DeMarinis a try to see if one family’s heart-wrenching rift delivered us the sweet fruits of another bomb-ass Bay View pizza joint. Spoiler: It did.
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I still have trouble figuring out exactly where Milwaukee’s Historic Third Ward ends and Walker’s Point begins. I’ve deduced that I’ve probably entered Walker’s when things get just a bit shittier looking, when the crumbling brick facades of no-longer-functional factories become slightly more prevalent, when the faint sound of boxcar hobos ironically singing acapella versions of Rick Astley songs hangs delicately in the dingy metropolitan air. And there are probably signs too.

Besides that, landmarks like the continually steaming manhole outside Solid Gold Gentleman’s Club, the Allen Bradley clock tower and the always delicious Conjito’s serve as apt indicators of Walker’s Point presence to wide-eyed Northwoods hayseeds like myself. But in terms of Pizza Topography, Marchese’s Olive Pit is — bar none — the neighborhood’s highest point of elevation.
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Riverwest. It, with South Milwaukee, remains one of the few regional mysteries yet to be thoroughly explored in my still scant inhabitation of the City of Festivals.

I once met with a publisher at a coffee haus on Humboldt, I went to a few shows in the neighborhood, bought an $8 pair of grey slacks at ReThreads that leave no questions in regard to the exact contours of my cock’n'balls, and that’s about it.

Apart from those three things, I’ve learned that all the crustpunkers I know live or routinely hang there, Ronnie got mugged in Riverwest a few years back and Lakefront Brewery began there. Basically, I know shit about it. And after my inaugural Riverwest meal at NYPD, something tells me I probably need not investigate it much further.
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The square mile around Milwaukee’s famed Brady Street plays host to its fair share of pizzerias.

Zaffiro’s straight up owns the Eastside (motive for burning down Pizza Man?). Crisp offers douchetanks tasty slices and club music at bar time — same goes for Pizza Shuttle (minus the club music and plus red Gatorade in the soda fountain). Even Zayna’s is tasked with serving up hot za, fried corn nuggets and Lo-Carb Monster to drunken local pariahs.

Then there’s Meglio Pizzeria, tucked away down Humboldt Avenue in, what pretty much looks like, a house near the banks of the ever-brown, used-Band Aid strewn Milwaukee River. Meglio’s less-than-unshitty location combined with its fairly truant MKE pizza presence and overriding awkwardness makes it the Daniel Baldwin of Eastside pizza joints. Or was it Billy Baldwin? See what I mean!?!
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Life is a game of give and take.

It’s difficult to recognize pleasure without first experiencing pain. People everywhere (except Michigan) brave the highways each morning to drive to a jobs they hate, just so they can support their lifestyles and provide security for loved ones. Any guy who’s ever seen a Hugh Grant movie probably did it for the Hanj (or better) he assumed may follow said sacrifice.

And in the case of Milwaukee’s newest place of pizza pie purveyance, Crisp Pizzabar & Lounge, one of the area’s better and higher quality wood fire pizzas in Milwaukee comes with the attached toll of being housed within one of the most overtly douchebaggish restaurant concepts ever.
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3246 South 27th St.
Milwaukee WI 53215
(414) 645-2400
website

Sometimes you run out of fun things to do and end up in your girlfriend’s bed while she’s at work trying to figure out something to do besides look at porn. Man of The Year was doing the same sans girlfriend’s bed (or girlfriend for that matter) so we decided to tap an area of Milwaukee seldom visited by any of the DoZ. Growing up on the south side of Milwaukee, 27th street holds many a fond memory for me. My first bike was from the Toys R Us on 27th, my first car was purchased at Braeger Chevrolet, my mom ran a catering business that was located on 27th, and my first Target experiences were at the Target on 27th. A memorable street to say the least. Now, for some reason my parents never got me hip to Ned’s Pizza, but I really wish they would have.

Upon walking in the door of Ned’s you’re greeted with a photoshopped picture of Brett Favre that says “Drama Queen” and a clock that looks like a pizza. I already knew I was going to love it here. The inside of Ned’s feels like 27th street. It has some serious south side character. MoTY stated that he “would never bring a date here.” I couldn’t disagree more and this is most likely why he is single. We seated ourselves and were brought menus quickly. Directly in the middle at the top of the inside of the menu “MILWAUKEE’S BEST THIN CRUST PIZZA” is boldly displayed. Big talk. I’ll be the judge of that.

Seriously.

Ned’s offers a fairly basic pizza menu. No pesto, goat cheese, or spinach here. The one thing that sets them apart from almost every other pizza joint in the city/state is that they have pickles as topping. It is even a main ingredient on one of their specialty pizzas, the Triple “P” (Cheese, Pepperoni, Pepperoncini, and Pickles). Our waitress also highly recommends the Triple P. I’ve only tasted pickles done correctly once on a pizza (Pizza Shuttle) so I had to try. MoTY is afraid of pickles so we got them only on half. Ned’s also has a sandwich, appetizer, and dessert menu. On top of all that they also offer “Ned’s Pizza Parbakes.” From the website: “A Ned’s Pizza Parbake is a pizza prepared by us for you to take home and bake yourself.”

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