In approximately 35 more meals…

More than a few friends and commenters have cracked jokes questioning my sanity when they heard I was planning to pre-pack for my vacation. (You know – the one that’s still two weeks away?) They are going to have a field day when they hear this next revelation: I may or may not have picked our flights based on getting to my mom’s in time to order Niko’s for dinner.

I based my travel itinerary on food.

But wait! Hear me out! It’s not just food! It’s Niko’s!! Niko’s Pizza House, a fine dining establishment family-run neighborhood pizzeria since…well, since way before I was born. I was brought up on Niko’s, home of the best pizza/grinders/fish dinners you’ve ever had in your whole entire life. Seriously. It’s what I miss most from home…well maybe I miss my mom more, but it’s a close call. I’m not kidding – I’m usually home for a grand total of fifteen minutes before I’m bugging my mom to call and order me a fish n’ chips. Mmmm, god, I’m droolin all over the keyboard just thinking about it.

First, I always order their fish n’ chips. Sooooo good. When I heard Se’Lah was visiting dear old Worcester, I told her she must visit and gave her directions. I can’t remember half of the street names from back home anymore, but somehow it took me .025 seconds to remember she needed Exit 14 off I-290. And my memory was justly rewarded when she sent me a picture of her lunch from her iPhone. (The drooling is reaching epic proportions now.) I can just taste the fried haddock, the tasty fries (the best ones soak up the fish flavor, but you have to fight my sister for those)….mmmm.

Growing up, fish n’ chips was a treat. Well, really, we were so poor that any Nikos was a treat. But fish n’ chips were only served on Fridays back then. A lot of pizza places only offered their fish n’ chips on Fridays. I miss that. Down here, pizza places only serve pizza. And occasionally subs (never called grinders). How weird is that? So every so often, my dad would get an order of fish n’ chips to split with my mom. (Or for her to split with me as I grew older and started stealing too much of hers.)

More often, my parents would splurge on pizza. Cheese pizza. Mmmm. Or hamburger. Hamburg pizza seems to be a regional thing because I haven’t seen it anywhere down here. It’s shredded hamburg, covering cheese, sauce, etc. So. Good. My parents would always get sausage and onions, methinks just so we kids wouldn’t want any. Still – give me a humid summer night and the smell of pizza and onions and I will think of home.

Our other frequent request – especially once we got older – were grinders. (Or subs. Or hoagies. Or whatever you call them from your place in the world.) My dad would always get an Italian grinder, no onions, no peppers, light oil and vinegar, toasted. Di-vine. My baby sister’s fave was always bacon, lettuce and tomato, cold, no dressing. (I think? I know the bacon is right at least – she would conquer the world for the small fee of bacon.)

When I first get home, it’s hard for me to decide what to get. Last time we ordered some of everything. And I had it all. I had my fish n’ chips (split with someone), a bite of the Ex’s Italian grinder, and a piece of hamburg pizza. I couldn’t move for hours. But that meal alone was worth the full fare of my plane ticket. 12 more days. Not that I’m counting.

Tags: nostalgia, pizza, restaurants