Wicked Peel Pizza Kitchen

He said:

Walking into Wicked Peel Pizza Kitchen was transformative. The interior charm of the restaurant made me quickly forget that we were just next door to a gas station and a block away from the Bangerter Highway. It featured several variations of welcoming-but-neutral grays, dark wood paneling, and red brick with exposed ceilings painted black. Warm vintage lightbulbs hung over the tables. The dining area was divided into sections by interior walls with arched windows, giving the tables a cozy, intimate feeling. A playlist of 50-year-old hits serenaded us, from The Eagles’ “Take it Easy” to Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary”. I found it pleasant, but I knew that Kathy must have absolutely enjoyed it. In fact, I caught her singing along a few times.

While I reviewed the menu—opened on my phone from a QR code—I tried to make sense of the restaurant’s name. The “Wicked” part didn’t bother me, but I couldn’t figure out the “Peel” part. Lemon peel? How does that relate to pizza? The waiter—the owner’s son—explained it to us. He told us a lengthy story about his father in a hospital. I thought he was going to tell us about a terrible sunburn, but no. In the end, we learned that a “peel” is the name of that long-handled spade-shaped wood utensil that the cook uses to pull pizzas out of the oven. Now, I get it. It was nice to learn something new while enjoying my lunch. (That reminds me of a boss I used to have. Sometimes when we had an urgent project, the company would order dinner to nourish us while we worked late. My boss would sometimes briefly explain some topic to us while we ate so that he could assign the dinner to our training budget, which apparently had more money in it than the food budget).

I ordered the Sausage & Peppers from the Pasta menu. It came with a side salad to keep me occupied while I waited for the pasta. Oddly, the appetizer I ordered came at the same time as the entrée. For the appetizer, I ordered the “Wicked Crack”. They call it Loaded Cheese Bread Sticks, but it was really a flatbread with toppings. In fact, it was largely indistinguishable from a pizza, except that it lacked sauce. It had plenty of cheese, crumbled sausage, bacon, capicola, and ham. It also had plenty of jalapeño slices. I guess I hadn’t read the description closely. Since the jalapeños were not a few, I realized Kathy wouldn’t enjoy the appetizer. The Wicked Crack was good, though I would have preferred it without the peppers. They appeared to have been canned, not fresh, which thankfully rendered them a bit mild. For jalapeños, at least.

When my pasta arrived, I found Rigatoni, Marinara, roasted peppers, onions, and Feta cheese. Again, the peppers seemed canned. Fresh peppers would have greatly enhanced the dish. I enjoyed the pasta, but it wasn’t particularly memorable. It came with a slice of garlic Texas toast.

She said:

From the name alone, I’m not sure what I actually expected, but images of stars and wizards crossed my mind. Once inside, though, we were greeted by a spacious foyer, gray walls, shiny gray crown molding, arches, white subway tiles, a black and white mural of the Brooklyn Bridge, black tables, black upholstered booth benches, and classic rock tunes from the 70s and 80s. Think Elton John, Bob Seger, The Eagles, CCR, etc. I told our waiter to tell his parents that they had awesome taste in music. (He seemed less enthused, as he stated he’d been listening to that playlist for the past seven years). I liked that it was a very relaxed, comfortable dining experience.

Anyway, about the food. I like plenty of vegetables on my pizza and I didn’t want to skimp on any, so I ordered the Veggie Style pizza and asked for salami and pepperoni to be slapped onto my pie. The Veggie Style pizza came with grape tomatoes, Kalamata olives, mushrooms, onions, and roasted peppers. Sadly, the latter were mushy and obviously came from a can. I prefer my vegetables to be crisp. Otherwise, with its thin, slightly chewy crust, red sauce, etc., the pizza was decent and easily satisfied my hunger pangs.

The Wicked Crack that Brian ordered as our appetizer was heavy-handed with jalapeño peppers, so that was a hard pass for me. Brian well knows my hate-hate relationship with burn-my-tongue spiciness.

Overall, my experience at Wicket Peel was pleasant, but it wasn’t extraordinary. I’d still recommend it as a place to grab lunch or a casual dinner and soak in some classic rock tunes.

Conclusion:

Wicked Peel Pizza Kitchen offered a cozy respite from the suburban sprawl. The food was good, though we would have appreciated more fresh ingredients. Don’t start your week at Wicked Peel; they are closed on Sundays and Mondays.