Spinach and mushroom pie at Home Slice, South Congress Ave, Austin
There comes a time in every spinster aunt’s life–in my case, every day at around noon–when a slice of pizza is indicated. Regrettably, my desire to become impizzanated has far outstripped the local supply of edible pie. I brush a small tear of happiness from the crinkled corner of my eye when I say that today, everything changed.
I got in at Home Slice Pizza, Queen of Pies.
Which is like getting in to Harvard. Home Slice, it is said, makes the fairest pie in all the land, but until today it was all just a dream to me. Three times I have tried to procure it, and three times I was dee-nied. The first two attempts, I admit, failed from sheer lack of fortitude on my part. The lines were out the door, pizzaphiles were hanging from the rafters, brawls were breaking out over parking spaces, Luke Wilson was supposedly in there somewhere, and the wait was like two hours. In my youth I may have had the cojones to duke it out with Luke Wilson for a slice, but these days it just seems more sensible to walk across the street for an immediate crispy taco plate at El Sol y La Luna.
The third time I tried for Home Slice, it was a Tuesday, and they’re closed on Tuesdays. Who ever heard of a thing like that?
But today I got in. I did this by biding my time until 1:30 in the afternoon, which wasn’t easy, because I was very hungry. I am gratified to report that it’s New York pizza, which is the only kind I’ll eat, that it is indeed the Queen of Pies, which is, again, the only kind I’ll eat, and that I am, consequently, full as a tick, the only kind blood-sucking arachnid I am ever as full as.