The real Orlando's secret, however, is the truly 1970's retro, "eating pizza in my basement" feel. Small, yet the booth arrangement makes it feel roomy, the oaky interior with panelled walls and mirrored beams signify a step back in time. Checkered vinyl tablecloths, with cigarette burns and wearing through under the salt and pepper shakers, let you know some serious grease on dough eating has taken place here over the years. There's even a dim, amber "light through pub glass" malted glaze over the entire interior. You'd imagine Denny Terio and the Solid Gold dancers would, after sweating to the latest 45 from the Chi-Lites, stop in here for elbows-on-the-table grub, seated next to plumbers and firemen. Me, I could never do the splits, even in my sequined leotard days, let alone lay pipe or put out a fire. For me, I tune my transistor radio to Jackie Blue by the Ozark Mtn. Daredevils, don my least faded corduroy Levis, and pedal my glittery Schwinn banana seat over to Orlando's for a hot pizza pie. Hold the anchovies, please,
Saturday
Orlando's Pizza
Hungry..well, actually starving... my wife and I stumbled upon Orlando's Pizza on State Street in Geneva and after being greeted by our high school student waitress, we were seated in a cozy eating area with not more than a dozen booths, and treated to a very fine thin crust pizza. Thin sometimes means "cracker crust", but in this case, thin is what I would call a regular traditional pizza pie. We ordered a large, and the two of us polished it off (we pick off 1/2 the cheese, at least) with a couple of diet Cokes. The pizza crust/bottom was browned perfectly, almost with a brick-oven crispiness--very nice. The salad bar was tiny but fresh, and although we did not try it, seemed excellent ($4 extra when you buy a pizza).
The real Orlando's secret, however, is the truly 1970's retro, "eating pizza in my basement" feel. Small, yet the booth arrangement makes it feel roomy, the oaky interior with panelled walls and mirrored beams signify a step back in time. Checkered vinyl tablecloths, with cigarette burns and wearing through under the salt and pepper shakers, let you know some serious grease on dough eating has taken place here over the years. There's even a dim, amber "light through pub glass" malted glaze over the entire interior. You'd imagine Denny Terio and the Solid Gold dancers would, after sweating to the latest 45 from the Chi-Lites, stop in here for elbows-on-the-table grub, seated next to plumbers and firemen. Me, I could never do the splits, even in my sequined leotard days, let alone lay pipe or put out a fire. For me, I tune my transistor radio to Jackie Blue by the Ozark Mtn. Daredevils, don my least faded corduroy Levis, and pedal my glittery Schwinn banana seat over to Orlando's for a hot pizza pie. Hold the anchovies, please,
The real Orlando's secret, however, is the truly 1970's retro, "eating pizza in my basement" feel. Small, yet the booth arrangement makes it feel roomy, the oaky interior with panelled walls and mirrored beams signify a step back in time. Checkered vinyl tablecloths, with cigarette burns and wearing through under the salt and pepper shakers, let you know some serious grease on dough eating has taken place here over the years. There's even a dim, amber "light through pub glass" malted glaze over the entire interior. You'd imagine Denny Terio and the Solid Gold dancers would, after sweating to the latest 45 from the Chi-Lites, stop in here for elbows-on-the-table grub, seated next to plumbers and firemen. Me, I could never do the splits, even in my sequined leotard days, let alone lay pipe or put out a fire. For me, I tune my transistor radio to Jackie Blue by the Ozark Mtn. Daredevils, don my least faded corduroy Levis, and pedal my glittery Schwinn banana seat over to Orlando's for a hot pizza pie. Hold the anchovies, please,
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