Home Plate Bar and Grill: New Year, New Beginnings, New Pizza

 I hear it all of the time: “Kokomo sucks, there is nothing to do here” or “You gotta drive to Indy to do anything fun in Indiana.” There is everyone’s favorite: “There is nothin’ but corn in Indiana.” A quip about the Kokomo hospitality industry, or lack thereof, can be heard around any water cooler. I myself have DEFINITELY been critical of this town for its desperate lack of excitement nine days out of ten, and there are some days I still afford myself a snide comment about the city I once called home. However, I am constantly reminded that this city is not as stale as I make it out to be in casual passing. While the cynical townies here might love to hate their home, it does seem to foster local business start-ups better than most.

Over the past year or so, we have witnessed the opening of a number of businesses about town. Some are brick-and-mortar institutions occupying the worn-out husks of former buildings around the town square, while others are hosted from a kitchen table. Every month, my Facebook pages light up with a casual school acquaintance giving it their shot at entrepreneurship, or an eager business posting their newfound store online. So, when a new restaurant opens up in town and they offer pizza, I just have to be one of the first in the doors.

It’s rare that a new restaurant pops up in Kokomo that I don’t know about well in advance. That’s not said to be braggadocious; I am not the all-seeing food guru. However, in a town as small as Kokomo, when you make it your mission to eat all the good food in town, you tend to keep tabs on restaurants exploding onto the scene. Then one day, a small eatery/bar starts coming up on Kokomo’s business-centric Facebook posts and I can’t help but be interested. Just before we rolled into 2023, Home Plate Bar and Grill began posting updates on their grand opening. A new menu, a fresh facelift on the old Little Daddies building along Home Avenue, and a very engaged owner keeping consistent and upbeat on his advertising, just hoping his dream gets to grow some wings. 

I decided to try out Home Plate on a dreary Sunday just before the NFL playoffs. What could go better with football than pizza, amirite? The exterior gives off dive-bar vibes upon first inspection, but families ARE going there with youngsters far too little to enjoy the adult beverages. It is odd to watch a kid walk hand-in-hand with Dad into a “bar” like it’s just another restaurant. The outside doesn’t scream “GREAT PIZZA FOUND HERE”, but we don’t judge books by their covers here.

Photo Credit: The Kokomo Post

And color me impressed, they did a bang-up job giving that building a make-over. The once-mortifying interior received a complete overhaul, transforming into a modern, roomy eatery with a bar to boot. The layout is open in the main dining space, lined with few tables to allow more open travel for patrons from front door to back tables. Judging by the outside, you’d think the place would feel small, cramped. Not here. I walked right up to the bar without tripping on an outstretched shoe or sliding between any backed-out chairs. 

When I am trying out a pizza place in Kokomo, I also try to do a bit of research before I dive in and eat the food. I feel that it helps to better understand a restaurant’s place in our town’s heritage when you know a little about them, thereby making the taste test more about the eatery overall, rather than solely by how good the chef in the back was able to whip up their pie of the day. Home Plate, being less than a week old at the time of trying their food, didn’t get that luxury. My research was limited to a handful of Facebook posts, publicly accessible license info for food service, and a handful of online announcements of their intention to do business in Kokomo. So, when I sat down at the bar, I tried to make up for lacking resources and chatted with the bartender. “What is good to eat here?” “Have you been here since opening?” “What are the owners like?” Etc, etc. Ashley, the poor bartender subjected to my inquisitive barrage, answered me patiently and enthusiastically. And while none of the answers really helped me form a prior opinion on the place, I did learn that I should try the chicken wings (perhaps another time) and that she was only on her 2nd day. Everyone was new, customers and employees alike.

Home Plate calls their pizza menu the “All-Star Pizza” menu, and the selections make good use of baseball puns, which I can always appreciate. I settled for the Grand Slam, and a side of fries for good measure. Pair that with a cold beer and I was ready for football Sunday. The food came quickly, which is surprising for a new bar restaurant just getting its footing in place. 

I only ordered the 7”, so it was rather small. It appeared a mess and it was piled high with toppings, but in a good way. This was a traditional barroom pizza, reminiscent of a few college spots I remember from a while ago. While I expected it to taste like a bad Totino's frozen selection, I was pleased to find that it carried some heavy flavor. The toppings were uniformly cut, which typically screams bagged toppings, but they tasted more or less like fresh-cut ingredients. There didn’t seem to be a lot of grease, but the cheese did ooze (it passed the stretch test). 

Now, I know what we have here is a small-time PIZZA blog, but let me tell you…

The pizza was good bar food. It hit all the notes I needed it to, and it satisfied my craving for a topping-heavy, crunchy-crusted pizza to go with football and beer. However, the star of my trip was the FRIES. I cannot capitalize that word enough. These fries were, very possibly, the best fries I have had in my lifetime. Again, I expected bagged, frozen string fries and was met instead by these golden brown pockets of goodness. They were seasoned. They were crispy. They were perfectly cooked in a vat of perfectly-tempered oil. I could sing their praises for days. I am not shitting you when I say, pizza be damned, the slices I want to talk about are the sliced bits of potato that graced my face that day. Hell, I might just change my logo from a pizza wedge to a Yukon Gold for a month. 

Not every restaurant impresses me. I like to highlight how good each place I visit can be, and all the charm they carry inside and out of the kitchen. But Home Plate manages to deliver on both, and I do not feel strained to say that. The pizza did its job, but the fries locked me in for another visit. The atmosphere was dive-bar-esque, but the family inclusions made this place comfortable to sit in for longer spans of time. The buddies hanging out over shots of tequila made me feel twenty-one again, and the kid on his iPad reminded me I am thirty. This place was a bit of a conundrum, but as a restaurant, it gave me a good feeling. 

Kokomo may suck, but it’s not a dead town. Thriving here is a chance for little businesses to emerge and impress the masses. Home Plate epitomizes the growth here. Sure, there isn’t much to Indiana but the rows of corn and frigid winter weather, but the goddamn potatoes at Home Plate Bar and Grill sure make me think twice before I discount this town as useless.

Happy New Year: Up Next on "A Slice of Kokomo"

 Happy New Year to all the food junkies out there!

2022 was my first full year running A Slice of Kokomo and sharing the stories of the town and a bit of myself with each pizza joint I reviewed. I learned a lot from the year, such as how to blow over a deadline and disappear into the muck for a couple of months, how to tell a story without really saying anything of use, and how to eat exorbitant quantities of gas station pizza in the name of science. I learned that there is a lot to be said about the pizza of our faire town, even if it’s just a bo-dunk city in the middle of nowhere. 

2023 is the year I get things right, though. While most people are out there swearing off sweets and swearing in fitness for their resolutions, I have committed to something a bit more enjoyable. I am going to get this blog into a rhythm. Once a month, I am going to highlight Indiana pizza places–primarily within driving distance of Kokomo, but not limited to the city–with other foodie-esque entries to accompany. These short snippets won’t be as grueling to write as some of my posts, but hopefully they will bring you a good laugh and maybe even inspire you to seek out food you might’ve otherwise never tried. 

Who knows? Maybe this blog WILL be good for something, just not for our collective waistlines.

Each month, I will have a new pizza parlor to check out, starting with January’s pick: Home Plate Bar and Grill. This place popped up seemingly overnight as we transitioned from 2022 to 2023, so I feel it deserves the first try of the new year. I will have this up before the end of the month, but I will leave that deadline non-committal, as I have already proven to be wishy-washy on exact dates as it is.

To all those who read along, thank you and Happy New Year. To those just joining, enjoy some of the archived entries below; there are a lot of good pizzas in town. 

-Brandon

P.S.--If you have a pizza place of your choosing you want me to try next, drop the name in a comment on kokomopizza.com, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. 

P.P.S.--If you want to SUBMIT a blog entry of your own, please do! Email me your submission at brandon@kokomopizza.com and I may add it to my site. Please include all crediting info so I know how to thank you on the post.

Hotbox Pizza, Excessive Drinking, and the Frankenpie

 I have a special relationship with HotBox Pizza.

In late February of every year, a group of my immediate friends and I celebrate a collective birthday for a few of us by securing a hotel room just outside of downtown Indianapolis' "party district". In that seedy conglomeration of too-loud bars and dark pubs on the south side of Circle Center Monument, we set out for a night of debauchery, dancing, and excessive drinking. You only live once, right? Although I don't remember much of the finer details of those evenings, certain memories tend to pop up through the haze of drunkenness which is usually bookended by uncorking a bottle on one end and a blinding headache on the other. And in that haze is a delectable and greasy slice of Hotbox Pizza. 

Nestled in a row of interconnected suites on a side street in Indy is a dainty Hotbox Pizza, supported on either side by jam-packed bars; one devoted to drunken dancing while a cover band blares "Sweet Caroline" through the speakers, and the other catering to the excessively inebriated who need a dark corner to sober up in. It is perfectly positioned to sell a truckload of pizza to the masses prowling downtown in the middle of the night. Although it has some stiff competition from the hotdog cart across the street ran by the sweetest grandmotherly woman in the Midwest, it still pulls in crowds handily. 

It is in those hazy nights in late winter I learned about Hotbox. After having just ripped the toilet seat out of a stall in The Pub next door–long story–I needed a new place to lay my head and steady the spinning earth under my feet. I was dragged onto a crowded bench in the building next door and fed slice after slice of pepperoni pizza and soda. It helped. I'll admit now, I don't exactly remember who was getting me the pizza, but they did so until I was full and considerably steadier on my feet. That pizza saved my overturned stomach and repaired my night. It was greasy. It was boiling. Above all, it was enough. I can't recall my opinion on the flavor at that time, but I don't imagine I felt too strongly about it one way or the other. Instead, I appreciated Hotbox for rescuing me in my time of need and proceeded to associate it with alcohol and those party days when I could hold my liquor somewhat.

This encounter happened five or six years ago. Fast forward to today. I don't–well, can't–drink that heavily anymore. I've skipped out on the past two years of February parties, partly for Covid and partly for work commitments, and I haven't touched a slice of Hotbox since my last drunken adventure in the heart of Indy's bar scene. Until an employee of mine, knowing very well that I taste pizza for a hobby, suggests I give Hotbox Pizza a try. That nostalgia comes rushing back and the chorus of "Sweet Caroline" invades my memory like an unforgettable jingle in a really bad commercial. 

Kokomo put in its own Hotbox sometime around late 2015, early 2016. I didn't realize until I started prepping for this piece that Hotbox Pizza, originally known as Pizza Express, isn't a national chain. Sitting in that void between local pizza parlor and international fast food pizza giant, Hotbox only operates in Indiana through 22 brick-and-mortar stores scattered around the state. Thankfully that means I wouldn't have to trek into that shady part of Indy just for pizza, but it also puts me in a weird space. I don't particularly like chain pizza companies. They use frozen, pre-prepped dough, bland ingredients, and soulless side items. Hotbox narrowly avoids this accursed title, but I also have no idea how fresh their toppings are. Research through any company's website is not going to tout how they skirt the qualifications for fresh foods, and nothing online really tells their whole story. I'm going in blind, with very little idea of that pizza's history, and with my only exposure prior being tainted with beer and dizziness. 

Oh well, time to eat.

 It was also recommended to me to try Hippie crust over the traditional option. So, my order this time ended up being a bit of an oddball one: hippie crust pizza with a litany of topping choices which do not go together and which I've not tried at Hotbox. My unique creation would hopefully give me insight into how good Hotbox is, but I stacked the odds against them. You can only do so much when the customer tosses 9 ingredients at you and asks you to build their monstrosity.

I opted for a spicy collection of peppers, mushrooms, pepperoni, assorted cheeses; pretty much everything I could profile as greasy goodness went into my pizza. And despite being staged to fail, Hotbox managed to impress me. Somehow it all came together well enough. I enjoyed my food, and managed to contain myself from eating the entire personal pizza in one sitting. It was good. Like, unexpectedly good. Not only did they manage to balance my ridiculous topping requests (not overloading or underpresenting any item in particular) they managed to compose the pie well enough that it wasn't a massive struggle to eat my slices. Sure, weighed down in the middle, each slice did droop some, but it held form and never fully collapsed. Perhaps that multigrain Hippie crust has some muscle. 

Comparing this side by side with my cheese and pepperoni choices from long ago is unfair. I can't really remember the pizza now, but I have glazed-over memories of a lake of grease in the center and the pepperonis having their own pocket of boiling oil. If I had to TRY to objectively give that 2015 pizza a score, it'd be low. It wasn't good, not by a long shot. Its sister franchise located an hour north, however, warranted a better review. It was a well made pie, not to be compared to the booze-soaked pizza from eons ago. While I once had this strange relationship with Hotbox–a decidedly unhealthy one at that–I could learn to appreciate this new association as one that doesn’t require me to lack my basic senses to enjoy it.

Would I go back? For sure. Hotbox has its place and I didn't dislike the pizza. Hippie Crust impressed me, that's for sure. But, there are a lot of options in this town. It didn't win a place in my top 3, but then again, there are still a lot more places to try.

P.S.--

It is worth mentioning that I wrote this piece a while ago. Life gets busy and I wasn't able to polish and post for quite some time. So, to finish it off, I went back to Hotbox for another pizza to snack on during editing. It was another monstrous concoction of ingredients, and it did not disappoint either. Although, this time I drank a few beers, in the name of nostalgia.

Fire Pizza: A Roadtrip to the Best Pizza in Town

Kokomo does not end at the town limits. Just because the border to the city–those drawn up in surveys conducted by local government officials–SAYS our town ends at the corner of two intersecting junctions just outside of a major trafficway doesn’t make it true. This patch of Indiana is more communal, more integrated than that. Kokomo is the beating heart to this swatch of Americana, branching out to numerous towns all around it, serving as a hub of commerce and employment. To the East lies Greentown and Marion, as well as a few smaller villages, to the South, Tipton, West is Russiaville and Galveston slightly Northwest, and Peru sits straight up US31. They feed directly into town, and while they are separate cities, they are very much an integral part of who Kokomo is. These towns around Kokomo provide a core part to its identity.

So, when a citywide hunt for the best pizza in town–as voted by its citizens–begins to check off all the mom-and-pop shop pizza joints, they must include those that serve as living legends to their little slices of Indiana (pun intended).

Russiaville is in the middle of nowhere–population around a thousand–and at its heart is a pizza shack. Fire Pizza, recently voted to have the “Best Pizza in Town” by a survey conducted by The Kokomo Post, sits on the corner of an idyllic junction cutting through the center of town. Going north to south is a county road lined with small homes and a couple tiny convenience stores/gas stations, and heading east to west is State Road 26, the primary route that runs from the south side of Kokomo to pretty much everywhere else due West. If you are a townie, you know this road and town well. To an out-of-state reader, imagine the junction in Disney’s Cars’ Radiator Springs, but with less desert and more corn stalks.

Fire Pizza earned the honors as having the best pizza in Kokomo’s extended borders. Therefore, it deserves the next taste test on A Slice of Kokomo. And for the very first time since taking the reins of A Slice of Kokomo, I have zero experience with a restaurant. Well and truly, this will be my first impressions and my first taste test. Nothing to sully the experience or influence my input. So, with an open mind and an empty stomach, it’s time to try the “Best Pizza in Town”.

There is one caveat…

I live in Marion now. About eight months ago, an opportunity to buy a home came up for a reasonable price (all things considered) and, well, the rest is history. So, to get this pizza on a random lazy Saturday in April required a road trip of sorts. With nothing better to do on a fair day in the Midwest, I packed up my dog into the passenger’s seat and away we went. Meet my tasting companion for the day, Ami.

Thankfully, it was a decent day in terms of weather, and we got to spend the ride with the windows rolled down and music turned up, jamming to her favorite hits. Round trip, we were looking at just shy of a two hour escapade, so to say this was the longest trip I had taken for pizza is an understatement, but I do it in the name of science! 

Roughly 55 minutes of backroad exploration later, Ami and I pull up to a building painted in black and red, which admittedly you CANNOT miss. It was obvious from quite a bit down the road that we were in the right place, but I still managed to struggle to find parking. Even though the spaces are RIGHT THERE in front of the main entrance, with parking spaces clearly outlined and headed by concrete barriers at the top, I managed to blow right passed them and attempt to turn into (what apparently was) the small drive thru behind the building, going the wrong way, and came bumper to bumper with the poor sap who happened to be a true local in the area and was obeying basic traffic flow before my ignorant ass attempted to back him up through an alleyway the size of a Pinto. Embarrassed, I backed up into traffic, circled the block, and collected myself while finding the correct parking lot. 

It was no easy task, but we were here.

I will give Fire Pizza props from the onset. They have a clean, visually appealing building. I am always a sucker for art on the outside walls. Thematically, they stayed on point with the “fire” jazz, the interior keeping the color scheme. In the back, they sold ice cream out of one of those mobile freezer counters, and I am sure had I asked, I could’ve gotten a scoop of chocolate to go with the pie, but this isn’t The Scoop on Kokomo, so I decided to order a large pepperoni/mushroom and call it a day. *Note to self: if Kokomo runs out of pizza parlor, start “The Scoop on Kokomo”, trademarked 2022*

Photo courtesy of the Fire Pizza FB Page

There is now a sign hanging on the wall of Fire Pizza declaring “Best Pizza in Town”. Fifteen short minutes later, I could determine for myself how deserved that award may be. Ami and I propped open our box on a picnic table outside and began to feast. 

At first bite, it hit me. It was like a scene out of an overly-enthusiastic 90’s commercial. The taste, that soft, chewy texture, the savory goodness of Fire Pizza made my eyes go wide and my taste buds do a backflip. Admittedly, I had severe doubts that this pizza could qualify as truly “good”. Whenever someone tries to poll the people of Kokomo for their favorite restaurant/pizza/taco joint, the data is skewed; sometimes this is because the polled people are friends with the owners of a particular restaurant, or perhaps it's just the most local place. I distinctly remember a poll hosted a few years back was abandoned in the finals because fake Facebook accounts were being made and deleted just to upvote Pizza Junkies in town. You can’t always trust online polls for accurate info. Therefore, I walked in with heavy cynicism. But, in just one bite, my entire outlook changed. 

Fire Pizza makes a fantastic pie. That first savory, cheesy bite hit me with such surprise, and it continued throughout my slice. Every once in a while, stopped to tear off a small piece for Ami, which she gratefully accepted and inhaled rather than ate. Together, we powered through slice after slice, each piece just as tasty as the last. The pizza wasn’t too salty or too oily; it was thoroughly consistent, and an easy eat. We must’ve been a sight to behold, a guy and his dog devouring a pizza, shoving mouthful after mouthful down like starving vagabonds. I have no regrets.

Half a large pizza down and bloated from the experience, we hopped back in the Jeep and parted ways with this delicious discovery. Fire Pizza showed us just how good those small town pizzerias can be. Was it the best pizza in town? That remains to be seen. Many of these pizza parlors have great takes on the classic food, and each sports a unique bake or topping experimentation. Maybe I’ll come back to Fire Pizza over and over in the end. For now, it is definitely impressive, and not many places are worth a two hour drive and all that gas money.

Ami was certainly happy with her meal.

Casey's General Store: A Tale of Two Pizzas

Gas stations are abundant in Kokomo. Some are small, independent brick buildings on the corner of X Street and Y Road with the horror movie lighting and sticky doorknobs; others are the chain BigBox Marts with the dangerously deceptive meat logs on the rollers that taste good for five minutes and destroy your insides hours later. We each have a favorite, whether we admit it or not, and there is at least one mini-mart in this town where the pop is better and no one can argue with you on that. However, for as many as I have been in, only one stands out for a reason not related to the health department or city crime rate.

Casey’s General Store–of which our town managed to sucker in two–graces both ends of town. A Midwest icon and roadside attraction for many states west of here, Casey’s operates 1,788 locations across the nation’s heartland. I typically won’t review any location that isn’t locally owned and operated, (hell, Casey’s is the 3rd largest mini-mart company, behind 7/11 and Circle K) but only Casey’s has access to a Midwest delicacy so delicious, that people drive out of their way just to taste it's rumored goodness: Breakfast Pizza.

Now, folks in the Crossroads of America will be a little biased; I know that I am. However, I try to be as objective as possible when telling you about the pizza in this town. So, bear with me as I balance fangirling over this pizza and giving you a true “is it worth it?” review. 

I cannot remotely say this is my first time trying and reviewing this pizza. On my drive into work, if I am ever ahead on time, I will stop by Casey’s, fill up my tank, and pick up a slice of Bacon Breakfast Pizza in the 8 or so minutes I managed to squeeze free of my morning routine. I will scarf down the hot, cheesy slice on the 10 minute commute left before I roll into the parking lot, and those mornings usually set the mood for the remainder of my day. Needless to say, I could almost do this review without grabbing another slice for the rest of my days, but where is the fun in that? So, naturally, I picked up 5 slices to REALLY solidify these results: 1 each of Bacon, Sausage (breakfast edition), Gravy, Pepperoni, and Cheese.

Could I have bought a whole pizza? Sure. But for the sake of variety, I just grabbed singles.

After surviving the stunned glances of the clerk, who counted my load and asked with shock in her voice “are those all for you?”, I settled into my driver’s side and began absolutely pigging out. I intended to finish all 5 in my car. Why? Not sure. Life is chaotic? I was in a hurry? I enjoy the cramped compactness of my Chevy Cruze? Take your pick. 

Let me start by saying, the hero of Casey’s General Store pizza is, and forever will be, Bacon Breakfast Pizza. Hands down, it is the best pizza served by the mini-mart and it brings back so many memories of grade-school breakfast and the 7AM slices they served in Elementary. It doesn’t pretend to be a fancy pizza. It is absolutely drowning in grease–the good kind–and melts in your mouth. Hunks of egg give the pizza texture and variety while not detracting from the iconic bacon topping. The bacon is the star every time. The cheese and crust bring back waves of nostalgia of all the breakfasts pizzas I’ve consumed over the years, and I will never not enjoy eating this. Cutting myself off from Casey’s Bacon Breakfast Pizza might help me cut a few pounds, but it’ll also suck all the happiness out of my mornings, so I will trim up in other areas.

From there though, the pizza takes a sharp turn south. The other breakfast options are not bad, per say, but they have their flaws. Sausage versus bacon for a breakfast topping is a quick defect for anything not bacon. And while the gravy is an interesting option, it creates a layer of lubricant between the cheesy amalgamation floating on top and the already flimsy crust. If you don’t break apart your bite JUST RIGHT, you end up with a lap full of steaming pizza cheese and gravy and you have to make the shameful ride home with a blistering crotch and the scent of a breakfast platter punching you in the nostrils the entire time. When it comes to breakfast pizza, go bacon and do not look back.

Now, the other pizza is just awful. Casey’s pepperoni and cheese options just cannot live up to the hype, so I won’t say much on them. They taste like pizza, and if you want just a slice on the go, it is fine. I would not recommend getting an entire pie for the non-breakfast options. Some people love them, but I won’t buy another piece in the foreseeable future. The crust is too chewy, the cheese is decorative only, and I am not sure the pepperoni could constitute actual meat. They cannot all be winners, I suppose.

If you follow any of the Midwest Fancy social media pages, I am sure you’ve seen this before. A simple-palated midwesterner gushing over what is objectively probably a less than stellar pizza. Let’s face it: I didn’t go too deep in researching the ingredients Casey’s General Store uses, but I am confident it falls somewhere in the surplus food warehouse category. And for being gas station pizza, the bar can only go so high. What Casey’s manages to do is overcome a logistical problem–symmetry across an entire brand of foods while maintaining cost targets–and deliver a spectacular pie. Missing the mark on one segment of pizzas is forgivable when they still manage to produce something so nostalgic, so crave-worthy, and so unexpected that I would even consider continuing on with my less-than-healthy obsession with morning pizza. I tried to look at Casey’s from the general population of the world and decide if the pizza is worth such accolades, but let’s face it. I am too close to the subject.

Casey’s General Store makes a damn fine pizza; just remember that bacon is best.

Stoney's Sourdough Pizza Co and the Fantastical Flying Pizza Planet

The city is changing, albeit very slowly. Kokomo trudges forward into the future, dragging its heels like a pissed-off child much of the time, but forward it does go. Unlike a bigger city with a rapidly changing landscape, Kokomo tends to hold onto the past for far longer and with much tighter grip. For instance, Kokomo housed one of the last Sears in the Midwest, a dying business that has since reduced its numbers to 21 stores nationally–down from 3,000 at its peak. Closing Sears was much like ripping off a Band-Aid from a hairy leg. And when we finally let go of that archaic business, the shell left behind was quickly filled with ANOTHER brick-and-mortar clothing store that sold discount merchandise–selling discounted Sears clothing inside the carcass of a dead Sears store is quite possibly one of the most savage moves I’ve seen in my life. “Letting go” is not Kokomo’s typical MO.

So, when another dying business model and industry begins to fade out of the world after establishing some DEEP roots in many locations throughout the city, what does Kokomo do? It doubles down and keeps that industry afloat roughly 15 years longer than it needed to be! I speak, of course, about the movie rental industry.

Netflix “opened its doors” in 1997, so to speak. This marked the beginning of the end for movie rental franchises, even if we didn’t realize it at first. What started as a snail-mail movie rental option would quickly become a digital rental and streaming service giant, ushering in Blockbuster’s extinction–and subsequently, the downfall of every other movie rental franchise from the 90’s. For Kokomo, this mass extinction took extraordinarily long to finish the job, but when it did, many lost an icon of their childhood: Family Video.

The final Family Video went out of business shortly before the pandemic (although all of them truly died long before). This exodus of businesses left gaping holes in Kokomo’s real estate.What would fill these husks of buildings now littering the city? There can only be so many Dollar Stores in the less than 37 square miles allocated to Kokomo city limits. Turns out, the answer can be a pizza place.

Credit: Stoney's Facebook Page      
Stoney's is ran by Memelords

Introducing Stoney’s Sourdough Pizza Co., a revolutionary pizza joint that can hopefully teach Kokomo that moving forward can sometimes be GOOD. Opened in the spring of 2018, Stoney’s offers all the usual: pizza, breadsticks, too-yellow cheese sauce, anything a respectable, local pizza joint should. However, they also boast something unique; an aspect which they have built their image around: a simple crust that none of their competitors use (or at least they don’t openly claim so).

Starting on the city’s north end, Stoney’s has since moved, and is now tucked away at the former location of Kokomo’s final Family Video. The building has been retrofitted for Stoney’s on the inside, but any Kokomo native could pick this building out as a Family Video from a mile away. The side wall has also been painted with a unique mosaic piece, giving Stoney’s new location some charm and individuality. In a city of plain brick buildings, Stoney’s chooses to be a bright, neon beacon.

Stoney’s boasts an online ordering system, something far too progressive for most Kokomo businesses, but alas it made my experience much faster and more convenient than others visited under A Slice of Kokomo. Inside, Stoney’s keeps it simple. A small shelf and some stools along the front wall gave me some time to bask in the smells of melty mozzarella and fresh baked bread. Nothing flashy is needed when you are making great pizza, I suppose.

                              
                              

But I brought company this time, so a small shelf wasn’t going to cut it. We took our pizza to another local establishment to enjoy, but that doesn’t change the experience, or so I’d think.

To say the pizza was a big hit with my niece would be an understatement. For a sub-30 lbs kid, she packed it away pretty easily, chomping through three slices large enough to feed a fully grown adult. But, when you ask a 3 year old for their criticism of a pizza, you don’t get much beyond “It’s really good,” and “Can I have another?”

However simple her critique, it was spot on. Stoney’s is really good. Their use of simple, fresh ingredients for the crust set them apart from some of the frozen dough ball franchises in town. Sure, they seem to use the bargain tubs of orange cheese goop for their side dipping sauce (and if I am wrong here, please correct me. But anything THAT orange must be from a can, right?), but when you are putting that much love into the main character, the support cast can afford to go by the wayside.

As with all pizza places I try, I did attempt a cheese stretch test, which Stoney’s did 0/10 stretchiness, but to that, I must say, so what? The cheese drooling off the crust isn’t a necessity here. It coats the pie, keeps your mouth swimming in chewy mozzarella, and overall, it serves its purpose here. Why complicate the equation with form and visual appeal? This pizza is good, and judging “plating” only helps someone far more pretentious than I want to be this week. Stoney’s is a fresh take on an otherwise perfect food. And maybe the freshness comes with a sacrifice that only I care about anyway.

Kokomo refuses to change, that much we know. But when it does adapt, it can create something entirely unique. Stoney’s is not only a positive pizza experience, I think it is a positive change for this town. We’ve come a long way since the days of Pizza King and the Big 3 fast food pizza places dominating our dining experience, and it’s time we have an alternative. Not that Pizza King isn’t delicious (more on them in another segment), but we deserve more variety.

Stoney’s is here to stay, and boy do they deserve to.

Kokomo Alehouse: A Change in a City that Doesn't

Kokomo is undergoing a “beautification” project; it was started during our city’s previous administration and the current mayor has continued with the project in a smaller, yet still noticeable way. Our city has never looked cleaner and our roads have never been more appealing. However, the cost of beauty is sometimes function. So, when Apperson and Home Avenue got the green light on their beautification plan, much of the city could NOT have anticipated the hell it would put the businesses atop that hill through, Mulligan’s included. 

What was once a wide, expansive roadway began to be invaded with patches of grass and dainty trees. Once four lanes wide, the streets in front of what was Mulligans when A Slice of Kokomo first visited now became two thin pathways fit for compact cars, not a city flooded with Jeeps and trucks lifted sky high. Each street on either side of Mulligan’s delta among the river of cars now became condensed and detrimental. Traffic would go on to become a confusing conglomerate of small cutouts in the grassway, where u-turns are damn-near impossible and large vehicles are unwelcome. In fact, I watched in agony as a semi attempted to make a delivery to Mulligan’s a couple years ago, and I sat behind him, trapped between his perpetual struggle and the line of agitated cars honking behind me. 

It is no wonder Mulligan's is no more.

That’s right, folks. Mulligan’s no longer stands between the bustling flow of Apperson and Home on an awkward plateau surrounded by blown-out factories. Despite a facelift just made in 2015, Mulligan’s name no longer graces the building. What stands there now is not a vastly different take on the hometown bar, but rather a reimagining of Mulligan’s Sports Bar for the 2021 business-scape.

Introducing: Kokomo Alehouse. 

Just a few months ago, Mike and Mari Mund took sole ownership of the former Mulligan’s and quietly transitioned to Kokomo Alehouse seemingly overnight. I had been to Mulligan’s a number of times before: it was primarily a Chrysler bar, littered with the afterwork 2nd Shifters looking to blow off steam after a workweek fraught with humid temps in a plant severely lacking adequate ventilation. Mulligan’s was the dark, stereotyped sports bar you could easily drive down to after your shift and could be welcomed like an old friend to the barkeep. Pool tables clacked in the back, chairs quickly filled up with hungry and sober patrons, and you could feel the community of Kokomo settling in for a night of debauchery and booze-fueled hijinks. Mulligan’s WAS known as one of the best places to be on a Friday night, and I attended a number of them myself. The good ole’ days.

Vibes can change easily.

Kokomo Alehouse finds this weird space in between a drunkard bar and a classy brewhouse. After a bit of redecorating and a remodel befit a new business, the Alehouse now sports a much more appealing interior that is both welcoming for newcomers and homey for the regulars. Advertising often for “Wine and Canvas” events alongside regular trivia and music bingo nights, Kokomo Alehouse seeks to take the traditional “hometown bar” and morph it into something more than just the afterwork crowd can enjoy. Yet, walking in to test out the now-condensed pizza menu on a sunny Saturday afternoon, I could still feel the dive bar reputation glowing in the background. Kokomo Alehouse was occupied by only two other patron who blared the same country track--about a cheating wife and a dog and prison--over and over again through the TouchTunes jukebox. Sparse dart boards and pool tables still lined the walls. Despite a glow-up, the dive charm couldn’t really be extinguished.

This time, I brought some friends to help me grade the pizza. And whenever you are in a group of four, pleasing everyone’s palates is going to be a challenge. The only safe bet on Kokomo Alehouse’s menu for my group (apart from going strictly cheese, which is no fun) was the very straightforward speciality pizza, Carnivore. All the meats, none of the contentious vegetables. And we all had opinions to share on this pie.

We all agreed it was big enough for the party without much effort. The four of us tore into it quickly and said very little. My friends are not much for food critiquing, but I did manage to pry some valid points from them as we all stuffed our faces over a round of darts. We all vehemently agreed the sauce was perfectly minimal for this pizza. It was almost non-existent. Hidden beneath a dense layer of cheese (which did not stretch at all, sadly, perhaps due to the heaping mounds of meat choices), the marinara gave each slice just enough lubrication. It had a job to perform, and it did so. It never stood out, and practically offered nothing to the overall taste. It was the senior employee six weeks from retirement, carrying the entire department on their shoulders, but no one would notice them until they were gone. We all noticed the sauce, but none of us really appreciated it at the moment.

However, the massive cupfuls of meat left us with something memorable. Sometimes spicy, sometimes oddly sweet, each bite is kind of a mystery. Kokomo Alehouse advertises that the Carnivore comes with a mixture of diced ham, diced pepperoni, bacon, and Italian sausage. The toppings were sometimes crunchy, sometimes tender, but never disappointing. For bar pizza, this hit the spot. Even though we all ate our share, we still managed to walk away with a doggy bag for later. 

I don’t want to oversell the pizza: the food was good, but most pizza is. I cannot say it was without its flaws. Similarly to the sauce, the crust served a purpose, but that wasn’t flavor. It was the vehicle the toppings needed to survive. It was a bit sweet, which is ok. And if you love sweet pizza, this is it! But, for myself, the unnatural sweetness detracted some from the experience. 

That being said, Kokomo Alehouse is a great little bar in the heart of our fair city. And it serves great bar food. I know this is currently just a pizza blog, but I am going to step outside of my genre a bit just to mention that they have superb wings (try the PB&J Wings...just do it), the cheese dipping sauce saves the crust easily, and the fried appetizers are also fantastic with a cold beer or well drink. Kokomo Alehouse isn’t a pizza place, per say, but they easily could throw their hats into the ring, and would score aptly. They do their duty in the pizza ring.

What defines a great pizza joint in Kokomo? Is it having the best ingredients in the city? Or perhaps its being that zany place that throws oddball toppings in the mix and sells some monstrosity called “The Kitchen Sink”? I am still trying to figure that out. I think, though, that a good starting point is the pizza place that has you coming back for more. Just a week after that outing with friends, I went back to Kokomo Alehouse solo. With a personal cheese pizza just for me underarm, I went back to my dayjob just a little happier; with globs of melty cheese to keep me company.

And I will be back again.

Happy Halloween!

 Happy Halloween, everyone!

I am happy to announce Kokomo Pizza has joined some social media outlets, so you can follow along more easily to our journey. Follow us @:

Facebook: A Slice of Kokomo (@kokomopizza)

Twitter: @kokomopizza

Instagram: @asliceofkokomo

TikTok: @asliceofkokomo

And I promised a Halloween surprise. Merch is coming to A Slice of Kokomo! Pizza-themed pillows and keychains, as well as t-shirts and other apparel featuring the Kokomo Pizza logo, which we will have designed by a professional graphic artist! If you are interested in picking up any of this upcoming merch. comment on "Ned's Corner Pub: A Legacy" by Nov. 30th and you will get 50% off your first order with us.

Please be patient, as all of our merch will be hand-made and made to order. 

Thank you all, and again...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!