Rocksteady Pizza Parlour: there is passion in these pies…

I’d like to believe that those who faithfully read my writing can tell the difference between when I write with passion and when I’m just phoning it in. Passion makes all the difference: because it’s the apples and oranges of genuinely being emotionally impacted by a dining experience versus feeling obligated to write nice things about some food that I ate. Maybe this is silly, but I like to think of it as the Transitive Property of Passion. Food made with passion tastes better. If a chef is truly passionate, then that should translate into their cuisine, and I should then be imbued with that passion when I consume their food. My hope is that I then harness that passion, inject it into my words, and spread it amongst all who read my writing–which is, perhaps, a little arrogant for me to hope. Still, at the end of the day, I can’t help but wish to find myself somewhere in the middle of the food chain: consuming passion, merely to pass it on to others like some contagion of good vibes. Maybe you can tell already, maybe it goes without saying, but today I ate passion. So, now it’s your turn, baby. Buckle up buttercup, you’re about to be filled with vicarious passion–because, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: pizza is a love language. Rocksteady Pizza Parlour speaks the love language of pizza fluently. 

I get a bit irritated when pizza places claim to have a certain type of slice and then fall short of the promise. Don’t tell me it’s a “New York Style” pizza and then underdeliver. If you just call it “pizza” with no qualifiers, I’m less likely to be disappointed with whatever you give me. But, if I’m promised a “New York Style” slice and get anything that falls even fractionally shy of that, I now have reason to be disappointed. The first thing that I love about Rocksteady Pizza Parlour is that they underpromise and overdeliver. Nothing in their name, or on their menu, tells me what style of pizza to expect. Spoiler alert: what they’re serving up is brick oven pizza most closely resembling the beloved Neapolitan style. The pies have gorgeous leoparding with charred black, bubbly crusts–yet the dough is pillowy, light, and indisputably delicious. The ingredients are high quality. The sauce is simple and pure. The care and craftsmanship that goes into these pies is apparent right from the jump–but I’m getting ahead of myself.

Rocksteady Pizza Parlour is a new restaurant in the gorgeous lake-infested community of Warsaw, Indiana. Is there such a thing as too many lakes? Warsaw is 50% lakes, 20% people, and the rest is good places to eat. Chef Jason, of the notoriously delicious One Ten Craft Meatery, is involved in this project–so you know it’s going to be epic. They’ve only been open for a few weeks at this point and are still working to perfect service–but, despite this spot being brand new, the quality of the food doesn’t suffer even in the slightest. Eventually, the plan is to offer some adult beverages and coffee, but this will come in due time. As someone who, frankly, doesn’t really want pizza without a glass of wine–I am very much looking forward to this addition and can’t wait to go back and enjoy! They’ll even have some breakfast sandos for early risers–but this part of the plan is on pause until they can coolly, confidently, and effortlessly provide lunch and dinner service consistently at the high standard to which they hold themselves. If my meal was any indication, I’d guess they’ll be rolling out these plans soon–because I have zero complaints. They absolutely slayed. I usually save all of my “bravos” and “well dones” until the end of the piece–but I can wait no longer. Rocksteady Pizza Parlour deserves a standing ovation, a hug, and a gold medal. They speak the love language of pizza fluently. Eating there I feel heard, seen, and understood. I am full of pizza and passion. I am fed. I am sated. I am grateful. But, again, I am getting ahead of myself. 

The building is stylish, immaculate, and industrial chic–fitting for an upscale casual pizza parlour. An open kitchen concept near the back of the dining area allows guests the opportunity to peep people slinging dough–making the experience feel both authentic and exciting! It’s always a joy to watch the pros at work. This element made me feel so at home. Nothing about Rocksteady Pizza Parlour feels particularly Midwestern–but surely the locals will still feel welcome there. The menu boasts an entire selection of dipping sauces: including ranch! (Not that I’ll be ordering that, but I’m sure somebody might…) Primarily, this joint offers red pies, white pies, and a few outliers. The menu is rounded out with a small but thoughtful selection of sandwiches, soups, salads, and snacky type things. My first taste of Rocksteady was the Fried Garlic Knots. In highschool, my friends and I would often go to a pizzeria afterschool and split a plate of greasy, garlicky knots. I still haven’t found a pizza place in Indiana that can genuinely replicate the garlic knots of my youth. Rocksteady isn’t serving the garlic knots that I grew up with; they’re serving something better. This might sincerely be one of my new favorite little nibbles. A basket of soft, pillowy, knotted, fried dough dusted in a snowfall of parmesan cheese. This dish is for my garlic lovers–those of us who could kill a vampire by blowing a kiss and measure cloves of garlic by listening to our hearts instead of counting with numbers. You can order any dipping sauce to accompany this treat, but there’s only one correct answer: roasted garlic aioli. Let’s take a moment to appreciate that Rocksteady serves their dips in a small dish and not in annoyingly tiny dip containers. Not all heroes wear capes; some sling pies. The roasted garlic aioli is not aioli that uses “garlic” as a mantra when it meditates. This aioli didn’t merely spend a semester in college studying the concept of garlic. This is not a basic aioli that a line cook whispered the word “garlic” into–this is Garlic aioli with a capital “G.” The Fried Garlic Knots with roasted garlic aioli are goated with the sauce. They’d make it onto my “Last Meal” menu. Garlic bread could never. I said what I said. 

As for pizzas, I felt it was only fair to get one red sauce and one white sauce pie–you know, for the sake of science. For red sauce, I snagged the Rocksteady pie loaded up with sauce, mozzarella, salami, Gordal olives, roasted red pepper, shallots, and mushrooms. I want to tell you that this pie was earth-shatteringly good–but if I say that now will you still believe me when I say the same thing about the white pie that I tried? Like, seriously, the ingredients are so primo. The pies are so excellently crafted. The flavors play together so blissfully. This pizza is–dare I say–perfect. My only complaint was that I couldn’t enjoy it with a glass of wine. I took home two leftover slices and am currently enjoying them cold with a glass of Chianti Classico. This pizza tastes so fucking delicious with wine.

Now, it’s no secret that I’m a cheese lover–especially goat cheese. So, perhaps I’m biased, but I would say that the white pie that I got from Rocksteady is one of the top five white pizzas of my life. Genuinely and truly–this comes from a place of earnest passion and not just lip service or an obligatory hype-up. I’m kind of, sort of in love with the Honey Goat. This is a vegetarian pie. I can get down on a vegetarian pie. Do I typically choose to? Nah–ya girl loves salty meats on her pizza and she’s not apologizing for it. But I could change my ways for the Honey Goat. This pie brilliantly walks the fine line between being delicate and also an absolute punch in the mouth of flavor. The Honey Goat pizza is topped with white sauce, goat cheese, ricotta, carmelized onion, herbs, and–of all things–sunflower seeds. (I’m pretty confident “passion” should also be listed as an ingredient for this pie; but it’s not on the menu, so…) Words will never do this pizza justice. You just need to eat it. The only things certain in life are death, taxes, and that the Honey Goat pizza is scrumptious beyond human comprehension. This pizza may have genuinely just restored my faith in humanity, my faith in high quality pizza in the Midwest, and–perhaps above all else–my faith in love. I love this pizza. 

I’m worse than just your regular, run-of-the-mill hopeless romantic: I’m a hungry hopeless romantic. Sometimes I feel like I’m lost and searching for something–always looking at new restaurants, hoping that I’ll find whatever it is on my next cleaned plate or the bottom of an overpriced glass of wine. When I walk away from a meal with a full belly–but somehow still unsatisfied and eager to continue my search–I know the food wasn’t really that good. But I can assure you, the food at Rocksteady Pizza Parlour is really that good. I left with a full belly, a renewed sense of passion for what I do, a grateful heart, and the strange feeling that I somehow received more than what I ordered and paid for. I feel satisfied. I feel heard, seen, and understood. I feel like somebody is finally speaking my language. This is deeper than the love language of pizzas–this is all about the Transitive Property of Passion. There is passion in these pies. Can you taste it already?