There’s something special, and so very Tampa, about the lunch hour rush at Santoro’s Pizzeria. It’s classic, despite its relative youth. It’s haphazard, in the most endearing way. It’s also fantastic, to address its main draw.
More importantly, it’s one of those places that brings everyone together. No matter where you came from on your way in the door, everyone is equal once you sit in a red booth or at the green family tables. Relaxed retirees dine next to business people scarfing down a quick bite. Solo diners snag a chair at a table with big groups. Artist or CEO or even both, everyone waits in the same line and orders off the same folded paper menu.
On my last visit, I had just read an article in the Wall Street Journal claiming that Americans have fallen out of love with pizza. Well, you wouldn’t know it by the lunch crowd at Santoro’s, where every table was full, the fast-moving line always stretched to the door, and even the outdoor tables were in use, despite the seasonal chill.
Hot pizzas by the slice and pie filled the room, with crispy wings and hefty sandwiches filling in any gaps in the tabletops. Strangers chatted, groups tried each other’s selections, and cooks tossed, sliced and plated just a few feet away.
Santoro’s is an ode to the classic pizzeria. Anytime you see the vintage Coca-Cola-branded, black-and-white menu board that still requires someone to place the letters and numbers by hand, you know you’re in a good spot. Ditto for the signed dollar bills on the wall, the tight corners, and the community water jug.
The idea on that random Thursday afternoon that anyone in Tampa had fallen out of love with pizza was laughable. Whatever the origin of the pie itself, the classic pizzeria is as American as it gets. All walks of life enter on the same footing, the so-called melting pot assembling in the name of risen dough and fresh marinara. It’s as if Ellis Island had welcomed newcomers with hot slices and a light dusting of baking flour on everything.
Pizza is universal that way. And speaking of pizza, let’s not miss the main point here: the actual food going into your mouth. Santoro’s is no frills, and all quality. The Jersey-style pizza comes from Italian roots, with fresh dough that’s solid enough to hold all your toppings and provide a satisfying crunch of the crust, but still soft enough to give you that perfect doughy chew.
One bite isn’t nearly enough, and the only rule is that you offer an empty seat to someone looking for a spot. While there are no other rules, I do, however, have some recommendations. Namely, work beyond the pizza portion of the menu, if you’re hungry enough. Like any great pizzeria, Santoro’s is more than just the pie.
The chicken wings are some of the best I’ve had in town. They have that amazing crispy skin that veteran wing-eaters love, but they’re cooked just right to keep the meat juicy. There’s nothing dry or chewy here, as can so often happen with a crispy-skinned wing. Wing lovers would do perfectly well to skip the pizza altogether (though few seem to take that approach) and just roll with a basket of wings.
For those who truly love their carbs, the subs are out of this world. The Philly cheesesteak is outstanding, and the chicken parm has the power to change lives. I’m a firm believer that the bread makes or breaks a sandwich no matter how good the toppings are, and Santoro’s delivers with a beautiful bun that’s light and soft on the inside with a flaky crunch on the outside.
If nothing else, it’s clear that the Santoro’s team knows its way around dough and cheese. In fact, owner and lifelong dough-tosser Travis Kaiser just opened a new bagel shop and a new pizza joint less than five blocks away, and all three are thriving.
All of that to say, it’s hard to believe the claim that we’re falling out of love with pizza. It may just be anecdotal, but we’ll trust the packed tables and come-as-you-are cross-section of Tampeños at Santoro’s. If you haven’t been, or just haven’t been in a while, consider this a sign to indulge.