Dom’s Pie Shop: pizza is not a punishment…

Pizza is more reliable than any lover I’ve ever known. Like a Tina Turner song, pizza is simply the best. I call it when I need it–when my heart is on fire. It’s always there. Dependable. Predictable. Whether New York Style, Detroit Style, or even Chicago Deep Dish: when you order a pizza, you basically know what you’re getting yourself into. Like I said, more reliable than any lover I’ve ever known. Even if it burns me, it will never stop me from returning to pizza. Why? Because pizza speaks a language of love like it knows what it means. That’s why I want pizza above all others. Pizza can just be pizza; and that’s okay. That’s enough. Nobody is kicking pizza out of bed for just showing up as it’s raw, unbridled, wild self. Because, even at its worst, pizza is simply the best. 

Some people “get” it–others don’t and never will. How could they? If you grew up in the Midwest, with the chokehold of Big Dairy heavily dictating what the word “pizza” means, you’ll probably never really understand the perfection of a true New York style pie. I’ll give you a hint: it’s not fucking soggy from the weight of too much wet cheese and we don’t dip it in ranch like some unholy monstrosity. But don’t get pouty and don’t take my words too personally. Like Eleanor Roosevelt said, I can only make you feel inferior with your consent–and this is simply not a consensual-non-con mindfuck. I promise, because I wouldn’t really be into that with you. (I just see us more like friends.) Besides, I get it. When I was a little kid, I used to dip foods that tasted bad in ranch, too. Ranch is great for making food that tastes bad taste like ranch instead. But things change. We grow. When I moved to Fort Wayne, I genuinely expected that I’d never eat pizza again–a living fucking nightmare for me, but we make these sacrifies so that our dogs may run in yards of their own. Then an ex-pat New Yorker pointed me in the direction of Big Apple and I felt a little more at home. Johnny Ox showed up on the scene and I felt understood. With each passing day, pizza is getting better and better in Fort Wayne. It’s almost starting to feel like the East Coast and the Midwest are speaking the same language–a universal language, united in pizza. Then in enters Dom’s Pie Shop. Catch them slinging pies out of the back of Draft Taproom: in the space previously occupied by Legalize Marinara. Some Doms dish out punishments, this Dom’s is dishing out their take on New York style pies and Detroit deep dish pizzas. If you’re like me and you have a fucked up mind, you might expect Dom’s Pie Shop to be a little more…ahem…subjugated than it is. The name is actually purely wholesome–which I’ll dish on in due time. But, you know, if you were hoping for something a little kinkier–I guess you could say, “Thank you, Daddy,” after enjoying your food–I’m sure it would make someone’s day. 

I was lucky enough to snag an invite to the soft opening. Let me tell you, the place was packed full of eager pizza munchers–my favorite kind of weirdos. My friend and I got there five minutes after the start time and we were already too late to snag a real table. It’s more than fine, because we spent our evening chilling on a dope, green couch sipping drinks, laughing, and eventually doing what everyone secretly dreams of doing–eating pizza. If I hadn’t been wearing pants, this basically would have been my ideal night. No-pants, pizza, and wine on my living room sofa is pretty standard protocol in the Plonk household. I know how to have a good time. I am pretty sure that going pantsless at Draft Taproom is frowned upon. So, if you’re looking for a kinky, pantsless pizza time–look elsewhere. (And then text me the address. Just kidding. But am I?) 

Let’s talk about potential: my middle school teachers may not have been able to see mine, and my college professors might all agree that I’ve squandered what little I had, but Chef Rio inarguably has oodles of the stuff and is putting it all to brilliant use. Dom’s Pie Shop is another brainchild of Chef Rio. Yes, that Chef Rio who operates Brew260 and the absolutely phantasmagoric Shop260–for all your bagel and breadstuff desires. Imagine that the person who basically perfected the art of the sourdough bagel and has a well-documented love affair with soft, bubbly focaccia opened a pizza place. Cool–if you’re doing that, you’re basically already thinking of Dom’s Pie Shop. Now, if you will, imagine that this marvelous maker’s first Executive Chef job was at a pizza place–so this ain’t their first rodeo. Imagine they’re of Sicilian heritage and grew up with all of their grandmother’s fantastic, authentic, old-world inspired recipes. Then imagine that this brilliantly talented chef has unwavering drive, interminable determination, and a passion for collaborating with other locally owned small businesses. As superhuman as Chef Rio might be, they aren’t doing this alone. Their partner for the pie shop is Dan Desjardins. If you’ve been to Brew260, you’ve probably met Dan–and probably think he’s a swell dude. Dom’s Pie Shop is, adorably enough, named after Dan’s son. The grand opening takes place on December 13th, Dom’s birthday. Does this sound like the recipe for your typical Midwestern pizza place? Probably not. But, maybe that’s a good thing. 

The menu boasts both their take on New York and Detroit style pizzas with options for red sauce, white sauce, BBQ sauce, ranch, and even hummus: basically anything your little heart could possibly desire. The crusts are sourdough–because of course they are–and we’re all better off for it. But the fun doesn’t end there. Whether you’re from the coast or a fly-over state, there’s surely something familiar and nostalgic to be found on the menu at Dom’s. You want some saucy confit chicken wings? You got it. Salads? Sure. Grinders? Yes, Daddy. What about pie–like actual sweet, delicious pie? Yeah dude, they’re slinging actual pie, too: Dutch Apple, Chocolate Peanut Butter, and Lemon Blueberry. Make it a la mode if you’re feeling sexy–and, frankly, you should be. A lifetime of promises, a world of dreams–Dom’s is really showing up giving us everything that we need.

For the soft opening, my friend and I split a Danny Boy pie. We almost got the Sofa King Good pizza, but honestly–I couldn’t have ordered it without giggling and blushing. (In case you didn’t know, I’m a small child in a trenchcoat.) I could order the Danny Boy with a straight face: so I did. I paired this pie with Draft’s dry red blend. I think it’s scientifically impossible to be anything but absolutely happy when you’re having pizza and wine. Frankly, I think we should all do it more often. The red wine stood up nicely to this supremely topped pizza. The twelve-inch pie was gently blanketed in organic tomato sauce, with sausage, pepperoni, peppers, onions, and mushrooms. The textures of this pizza were varied and engrossing; from the soft pull of the cheese to the crispy bits of mushroom and charred veggies. This pie had it all–by the end of the evening, it even had my heart. But, with Chef Rio heading this project, my heart never really stood a chance–did it? 

It’s not always safe to give your heart so freely. But, I think I can trust the pizzas at Dom’s with my heart. Pizza is more reliable than any lover I’ve ever known. I call it when I need it–when my heart is on fire. It comes to me: wild, saucy, and cheesy. Pizza speaks a language of love like it knows what it means. Pizza can just be pizza; and that’s okay. That’s enough. You shouldn’t need a single reason more to go to Dom’s Pie Shop than the infallible knowledge that pizza is simply the best. But if you require further motivation, you should know: brats don’t get pizza. Pizza is not a punishment: it’s a privilege.