I wonder if they're Italian.

As Ronnie, a DoZ reader named Brad and I came to know, the tucked away throwback that is MaMa DeMarinis’ is the kind of place you go when you initially  attempted to go to a different pizza place because it had a funny TV ad a few years back, you witness a drug deal outside of that (now closed) restaurant, and you drive around aimlessly until someone eventually remember it exists. That’s a story for another day… but that’s how we finally happened upon the elder most of the Bay View restaurants bearing the DeMarinis’ name last week.

Nearly dying on 27th Street after witnessing a felony aside, I’m glad for the night’s events, if only because they led us to one of the better and more unique pizzerias the Milwaukee area has to offer. Read on as I tell you why this run down neighborhood restaurant isn’t nearly as getting-AIDS-worthy as our own Sto Cazzo insists it is.

Old and shitty looking as it is, one must assume MaMa DeMarinis’ is a place rich in history. Of course, I’m not going to actually look into its history because history is…
A.) Boring
B.) Subjective and constantly changing
C.) More like “her story.” Am I right, ladies? HAAAAAAY!
D.) All of the above
… but walking into the establishment, you can operate under the assumption that little, if anything, has changed since it opened nearly 6,000 years ago. The same dingy cast of ancient regulars seem to line the bar, the same kind-hearted waitresses (who started the job in the days when women’s rights was just a clever oxymoron used as means of humor in silent movies) still take your order, and subsequently bring out the same flavorful baking pan pizzas they used to feed to the dinosaurs that once roamed and ruled the land where Cafe Centraal now stands.

But with pizza so tasty, I’m personally glad nothing has seemed to change. MaMa’s homemade sausage is that of wet dreams, they basically douched our pizza in delicious and semi-spicy sauce, FRESH MUSHROOMS, and they had our Za to us pretty much immediately. Also, they are one of the few pizzeria’s I know of to offer vegan cheese, if you’re into that thing. 

To me, it tastes almost exactly like Dom and Phil DeMarinis’ pizza (her sons, which Sto Cazzo will eventually fill you in on). Regardless, on Za skills alone, I still wish MaMa DeMarinis was my mom — I mean, unless she’s totally hot or something. That could be weird thing for a son deal with.

Since it was berthed on Milwaukee’s East Side in 1985, Shuttle has cultivated a loyal following — one cheap and overtly cheesy thick crust pizza at a time. Equally, it has garnered its fair share of hatred through over the years with its spotty service, Chuck E. Cheese for adults-type atmosphere, and hit-and-miss quality that makes the Son of Sam murders seem consistent by comparison.

Love it or hate it, if you live in or near Milwaukee, you almost certainly have an opinion of Pizza Shuttle. Here is mine.

When I moved to the area a few months back, I became privy to the Pizza Shuttle namesake. After taking the necessary time to gawk at all them big ‘ol buildings downtown and to marvel at the first non-white people I’d ever seen up close, I almost immediately climbed aboard the Shuttle so I, too, could weigh in on the partisan pizza pie place.

Maybe it was the gallon of rail whiskey talking, but at first glimpse, my mind was flooded with a priori of Pizza Planet, the pizza joint in Toy Story – except the whole checking you for guns part. It was bright, bustling and had an aura of the functionally futuristic (at least in terms of long-standing pizza places). 

You've got a friend in me.

Apart from Pixar comparisons, my mind and taste buds were both clean slates to the pizza and the atmosphere I was to finally embark upon.

THE GOOD: I must admit, I’ve only had Pizza Shuttle twice — once in pre-made by-the-slice form, the other in ordering a fresh pizza of my choosing. But on those two occasions, the taste retention held pat. The sauce was zesty, full of flavor and all over the place… like a tomato-based Viggo Mortensen (2006 – present). At its base, the pizza — with its fluffy crust, its generous bloodletting of sauce, the hefty helping of cheese and greasy toppings — isn’t too different from that of a Shakey’s or Pizza Hut pizza. It’s far from gourmet, but it tastes good. 

Also they seem to always have at least one awesome deal where you can get a large pizza for like $8. Plus, they have red Gatorade in their soda fountains, and offer vegan alternatives — which is good if 1. You’re vegan. 2. Wish to be spared from overhearing some lame vegan’s holier than thou rambling about corporate America’s faults (because they got drunk on Fat Tire, caved and got a cheese pizza) from the booth next to you at bar close.

THE BAD: Since I choose to only arm myself with my boyish good looks (and foam nunchucks) when I leave the house, I find it odd that Pizza Shuttle runs a metal detector over its patrons after 11:00 o’clock.  Yeah, it’s a shuttle by name, but not an airport shuttle. I suppose it ensures safety for customers… unless the shooter walks in at 10:56 or something.

Also, I’ve both seen and heard of numerous discrepancies in their delivery service. You’ve never truly vomited until you’ve waited 90-plus minutes to be handed a hot $7 salad. And our Sto Cazzo wanted to make sure I mentioned that Pizza Shuttle’s wings suck dick. 

TRY: Pizza Shuttle’s Largest WI Pizza Contest. In it, you and a partner are tasked with eating a 12-pound, 28” pizza in an hour. If you win, you’re $500 richer (well, more like $450 after paying for the pizza). And yes, it’s been done. Call a day ahead though. Try it before Man vs. Food (probably) does when he runs out of cool cities to go to.

RATING: The grey area between great shitty pizza and shitty great pizza. Worth the hype and the ridicule. The inside recess of pizzas.

Upon entering this oddly-shaped corner building at the intersection of Kinnickinnic and Mitchell, it’s pretty obvious that it’s not a normal pizza joint. For one thing, they appear to have a full coffee shop on the right hand side. The counter wraps around to the other side, which is a full bar with a fairly decent beer and liquor selection.

Their menu features a wide selection of pizzas, as well as salads, pastas and sandwiches. What really struck me was the large amount of vegetarian pizza options (10 in the ‘veggie’ section alone, but there were a few other scattered). They even offer vegan cheese for those with an even stricter dietary regimen. I’ve been vegetarian for about five years now, and its really nice to find a restaurant with a lot of interesting meat-free options.

T. Mar and I were somehow both fixated on the same variety of za: The Da Vinci. This heavenly pie featured the standard cheese and tomato sauce, as well as pesto sauce, fresh tomatoes and feta and asiago cheeses. It sounded like one of the best pizzas I could imagine, and it did not disappoint.

THE GOOD: Pretty much everything. The crust perfectly straddled the line between crispy and doughy. The toppings were fresh and the sauce was tasty. While I’m not a huge fan of pesto, it wasn’t excessive and worked very well with the other toppings. This might have been the best pizza I’ve had in years. I think T. Mario would agree, since every few bites he was letting out very audible “Mmmmm” sounds.

THE BAD: Um… I guess there was one piece that was basically one giant crust bubble. But that’s kind of an anomaly, and the issue was easily fixed by taking some of the extra toppings off the other slices to make a more fulfilling slice.

TRY: If you’re a fan of pizzas with garlic sauce instead of the standard tomato, try one if their 7 different varieties. They also have plenty of interesting specialty pizzas that would make for a unique experience. The Thai Chicken, featuring chicken, onion, cilantro and cheese with a peanut sauce, seems to be the most intriguing of the bunch.

There is no doubt in my mind that I will be going back to Transfer. It was one of the most satisfying pizzas I’ve had in a long time. While the price was maybe a little higher than most pizzerias, it was definitely worth it the extra fliff.

RATING: 10.0 on the Richter scale of pizza