I heart Bitondo's

Nothing brightens up a slushy February evening like a brisk walk. Bonus points if the destination in mind serves up melted cheese by the pound, conveniently wrapped in deep fried pizza dough. And, um, other light, nutritious snacks.

D and I, after a long exhausting afternoon of Rock Band practice (alternating, cross training style, with short blindness-inducing bursts of Burnout Dominator - the best racing game ever) decide to refuel with a quick hunting/gathering mission to Bitondo's.

Being in a virtual band is hard work.

Off we go...doesn't the look of this place just make you happy, what with its promise of all things gooey and tomatoey, as pictured on the store window? (See that sandwich on the lit sign? In teeny tiny letters underneath, it says: actual sandwich size. Well, it doesn't really, but it should.)

We order a veal sandwich, a panzo and two meatball sandwiches (one extra spicy). We play the touch screen memory game thingy that one usually finds in old smelly bars and casinos. I fail the memory game thingy. I take this as a sign that my brain has had enough stimulation for the day and is looking for nothing more that a quick carb score. We watch the other happy members of the "I am eating at Bitondo's right now" club.






Would you believe me if I told you that these wee little paper bags weighed 15 pounds?


Laden with our precious packages, we head home. We took the scenic route.







Thought this looked kinda neat, and then I thought, "Does that say KILL on the wall? Hmm. Dark." Moving on, it's time to EAT!



How exciting. Just like my birthday. Or Christmas!



Can I just tell you how much I love the whole "crunch, squish" factor of a great meatball sandwich? Somehow the point where bun meets sauce (or "saw-wuss", rather) becomes, independent of those two ingredients, its very own, very important, source of happiness. Sigh. Did I mention that it comes with pickled hot peppers?


Very necessary to wash it all down with some dee-licious aranciata. But we're not done yet!


Happiness is a greasy warm paper bag.




This whopper of a panzo is honestly bigger than my head. And I have a pretty fat noggin!

Gratuitous goo shot.

By this point, we felt plenty full, so called off band practice til further notice.


Our cat agrees. Belly. Very. Full. Sleepy...

Bitondo's Pizzeria
11 Clinton Street, Toronto
(416) 533-4101