I have been preparing for this very moment for the last two years. Somehow, I always knew it would come back to this. There was just no shaking the feeling that something was after me. Following my every move. Waiting to strike when I least expect it.
That thing was my mortal enemy, Salerno Restaurant. I have been locked in a vicious feud with Salerno, dating back two years. It has been violent, bloody, and sexy.
It all started two years ago when I began my career as the most illustrious food critic in America with a scathing review of local eatery Salerno Restaurant. At the time, they were on the verge of going under. The food and atmosphere were terrible, the staff was unpleasant, and the dining room smelled like someone had poured milk onto a golden retriever and left it in the sun for a few hours. Without going into too much detail, it was awful.
Now, nearly two years later, I’ve heard filthy little rumors that Salerno has been changing. Making improvements. Growing stronger. Waiting for me.
When I decided to go back and give it another chance, I made sure that I went in with an open mind. I don’t want to be known as a negative reviewer who hates every restaurant. I want to spread positivity and joy with my reviews.
As I approached the outside of Salerno, the first change that I noticed was a sign directing me up a short flight of stairs to get some wood fired pizza. Wood fired pizza is new at this restaurant, and I was excited about the prospect of trying it.
When I went in, I was greeted by a smiling hostess telling me to have a seat wherever I would like. I chose an unassuming table in the back of the restaurant, as to not draw the attention of the staff.
Soon, a waitress came to my table and placed in front of me the largest menu I have ever seen in my life. I am not talking about a menu with a lot of different choices, I mean a physically enormous menu. It was as tall as a hobbit and as wide as a child’s smile on Christmas morning.
After surveying the road sign sized menu in front of me I looked the waitress in the eyes and told her exactly what I wanted.
“Babydoll,” I said. “I need you to give one piping hot pepperoni pie, and go ahead and toss in a sweet barbeque chicken pizza.”
She looked uncomfortable but wrote down my order and scurried off to the kitchen. I looked at my friends eating with me and told them to strap in for this wild ride.
Ten minutes later, the waitress came back with our food. The pizzas were only sold in one size, and I’d say it was a solid medium. After surveying the pizzas, I decided it was time to dig in.
First I picked a piece of the barbeque chicken pizza. I noticed after the first bite that there was something off about the pizza. There was a chalky black residue covering the bottom of the crust and the taste of char covered my mouth. It felt like I had dipped my tongue in my grandmother’s ashtray.
The toppings of the pizza did not impress me any more than the crust. Somehow, while the crust had been cooked under the heat of ten thousand fires, the toppings remained undercooked and cold. All in all, Salerno’s pizza was once again disappointing.
The one redeeming factor of the pit of despair known as Salerno is their all new arcade. Located in the old dining room beneath the current restaurant, the room is filled with classic arcade games. Although perhaps the restaurant should be focusing more on their food than on distracting me with shiny objects. That stopped working when my uncle’s keys got lodged in my throat.
I went in to Salerno hoping for the best. I gave them an honest second chance. I tried to be nice this time, but I just couldn’t. After round two with Salerno restaurant, it’s zero points for the pizza and two points for Brinson’s brutal reviews.