Yogi's Pizza

Sometimes you just want to eat pizza. But you also need to rent a storage unit, browse discarded bits of Americana, and, ideally, see a man about a port-a-potty. You've been meaning to pick up some used furniture for the spare bedroom and then it hits you: when were you going to have your last will and testament notarized, anyway?

Submitted for your approval: Yogi's Pizza.

A truly hard-to-miss establishment at the corner of North and Washington Streets near downtown, Yogi's has been catering to Kokomoans' diverse needs since 1971. On this sprawling estate of entrepreneurial ambition, the casual wanderer will find storage units for rent, an enviable collection of portable toilets, and, according to the sign out front, a notary public, just in case you need to put the finishing touches on a sworn affidavit while you wait for your deep dish. In the summer months, a smorgasbord of second-hand furniture lines the sidewalk.

With all these side projects, we justifiably wondered, what of the pizza at this living tribute to the Hail Mary approach to free enterprise?

Let's start with the, ahem, dining room. There's some interesting stuff going on in here. A conspicuously 1990s-era computer rests on one of the tables; bags of Christmas decorations and stuffed animals sit in the corner under the television. Stacks of magazines and a retro industrial kitchen instrument make you feel like you're right back in grandma's kitchen. (If your grandma was a cross between an unrepentant hoarder and a Navy cook.)

If the dining room doesn't discourage folks from dining in, then surely the wall of framed newspapers detailing every catastrophic event in Kokomo's history will. From church fires to race riots, nothing says "pass the parm" quite like a municipal tragedy.

That's right: "firebombings."

The bottom line? The weird-adverse might plan on eating Yogi's pizza at home. There's even a drive-up window so that you can gawk from the safety of your own car.

We ordered a 16" veggie. One of Yogi's endless promotions is that you can choose between receiving two bucks off or two free Cokes. The idea, we suppose, is that if you choose poorly you have no one to blame but yourself. (We chose the discount and this pizza was still $20.)

"You have chosen . . . toppings."

As strange as Yogi's interior is, what really threw us was how much this pizza tasted like many of the other pies we've been eating around town. At first we were apprehensive. Could it be that we have traveled through some sort of culinary wormhole whereby we have now tasted every individual flavor-gradation Kokomo pizza has to offer? Will every pizza we eat from now on taste exactly like a copy of a copy of some eternal Form we've already tried? Have we already tasted the Platonic pizza and found it wanting? 

The cheese, crust, and sauce taste like pretty much every other pizza we've had in Kokomo. The crust was thin, but bready in a confusing, inconsistent way. The sauce was so peppery that it burned Ashley's delicate Midwestern palate. (Ed.: Yes, but then again, so does Heinz ketchup.) We do have to hand it to Yogi's when it comes to their toppings: as the photo suggests, they do pile on the toppings. 

Honestly, we had a hard time writing this review in part because it's hardest to say what must now be said: this is a pretty ordinary pizza. For half the price, sure. But for 20 bucks? And that's after surrendering our God-given right to two free Cokes?  

So, Yogi's pizza was kind of a disappointment. The Yogi's experience, though? Probably something every Kokomoan should try once.