I first called Italian Family Pizza a few years ago, when they were downtown on First Avenue.
“Do you guys deliver to Pioneer Square?”
“Nah,” came a woman’s voice, audibly steeped in Philly cheesesteaks and padded by the cacophonous hums of a busy pizzeria. “We only delivah tah the Hahhhhbaaah Steps.”
Translation: “We only deliver to the Harbor Steps.” Which means they were more than willing to make a delivery, as long as we were located within 376 feet of the restaurant. I ordered a large mushroom and olive pizza, and my friend and I walked down to pick it up.
The pizza box we were presented with was the size of a sidewalk square. A single slice stretched from elbow to fingertip. Italian Family Pizza’s large pie is so ridiculously, monstrously, preposterously huge, it evoked emotion. We smiled, we laughed, we shrieked, and we laughed again when we realized it would take two of us, all four hands and 20 fingers, to carry the massive pizza box down the street.
Out on the sidewalk, a strange thing happened. As we shuffled down the block, awkwardly maneuvering our precious pizza pie, Seattleites made eye contact. They smiled. They laughed. They shrieked. And the strangest phenomenon of all: Strangers actually spoke to us.
“Where ya going with that big pizza?” they called, smiling coyly, shamelessly flirting with our oversize pie.
“Whoa! Where’d you get that huge pizza? Can I get a slice?” they joyfully cracked, their pupils replaced with tiny spinning pizzas as they dutifully stepped aside so our wide load could safely pass.
Turns out all it takes to melt the Seattle Freeze is an oversize pizza pie.