Giving Thanks for Summa Joe’s Pizza
Greg Wilson/Anderson Observer
There’s no shortage of places to grab lunch in Anderson, but everyone has those spots they turn to—no debate, no hesitation, just habit and happiness on a plate. Lunch Favorites isn’t a ranking or a review, and it’s definitely not another “best of” contest. Think of it more like a neighborhood conversation that wandered to food, as they always do, and someone said, “You know where I had a great meal the other day…”
These are the personal go-tos from someone who knows his way around town and a lunch menu—the sandwiches that never disappoint, the soups that feel like a small victory over a long morning, the places where the iced tea always tastes right. Because around here, consistency counts, and lunch—done well and done often—is worth celebrating.
This week’s choice: Pizza at Summa Joe’s.
In the week before Thanksgiving, Lunch Favorites delivers a slice of gratitude.
To the discerning eye, what is a perfect pizza if not a democratic palette, a Broadway show of crust, sauce, and cheese, each ingredient cast in its own starring role? Every once in a while, I find myself in the presence of a specimen that demands not just a bite, but an ode—a reverent hush in the clamor of lunchtime downtown.
Summa Joe’s pizza - you can choose from a wild selection of special toppings - arrives at the table hot and proud, wearing its heritage of slight char and air bubbles in the cheese without apology. The crust—neither crisp like an autumn leaf nor pillowy as a feather bed, but a harmonious paradox—yielding and resilient. Sauce is applied with restraint, but in perfect amounts, seasoned with enough confidence to stand up to great expectations.
Cheese covers the landscape with a landlord’s obsession, melted to a point just north of string, blushing golden at the edges. My favorite is the “Meat Lovers,” with thick cheese, pepperoni, salami, ham, bacon, arranged with the indifference of genius—curls at the rim, pooling small, ignoble reservoirs of oil on the pepperoni that seem, somehow, to magnify appetite rather than diminish it.
These slices are perfect for one-handed eating, an architecture of sustenance not commonly found. A string of cheese that bridges hand and mouth is the sort of thread from which pizza legends are spun.
This perfect pizza is not found in hushed candlelight but in noisy parlors and crowded rooms savoring the mid-day meal downtown.
Most of us, as we brush away crumbs, ask for a to-go box for this hearty meal, since to eat the entire treat in one sitting is little more than an invitation to a nap. But Summa Joe’s pizza is a reminder, for a moment, that perfection is possible: dough, sauce, cheese, meat—each just so, and together, can be a small lunchtime miracle.
