Carsten Lepre
Google
Ah yes, Manco and Manco 9th. Give Mrs. Manco my regards because she’s done it again. My meal at 9th tonight was superb. Yesterday, me and my dining acquaintance opted for the 12th street locale due to line lengthiness at the inherently superior 12th street counterpart. We enjoyed it. However, we decided to brave the treacherous line and reap the benefits of much better pizza tonight and it was worth every second. Sure, the line is intimidating at the very least, but the bar is the absolute move. Not only do you get to watch employees hard at work, hurling discs of dough high in the sky, or transporting approximately 106 pizza boxes stacked very strangely, but you get to cut the line nearly in half. Most common folk seek a table in the back, but let me tell you now—you’re not missing out on any conversation if you go for the bar instead, because it’s noisy as all get out. My acquaintance ordered a plain slice times two and I ordered both a plain slice and the same exact thing with pepperoni added. Expectional is an understatement. All I had to do was graze the ooey gooey mozz to know I was sinking my teeth into the best pizza on the boards. My pepperoni was surprisingly spar, boasting a well-doneness I didn’t ask for aloud, but yearned for deep inside. As I typically do at Double M’s, I tried every single seasoning together at once. They’re all up to restraunt standard if you were wondering. The salt shaker, however, was seriously a struggle to operate. I tried my classic hind end jostle but still did not receive more than a couple flurries. Still, do not unscrew it and hope for the best like I did, because my next bite was so salty my saliva had the same floating ability as the dead sea. A nice gentleman who I surveyed briefly was quoted describing his meal as “off the hook!” My dining acquantice also added: “watching a man throw pizza after pizza into the air really changed my perspective on life”