F eats everything in epic proportions and with gusto.
We’ve given Epic Pizza in our neighborhood a couple of tries in the past month. Don’t get me wrong – it’s decent pizza, cooked fresh, and available by the slice, which is delightful for a family full of completely different pizza tastes. But I’m not ashamed to admit that we’re spoiled with several really good pizza places – exactly like the kind I ate when I lived in Italy – and the kind that just doesn’t leave you, and leaves little room for the slices that fall short. And thank goodness for those very places that save us from the kind of pizza style named after our fair city. Call me blasphemous, but ick.