Professor Joe's Sports Pub and Pizzeria (Lafayette, Indiana)

For my first "Out-of-Town Tuesday" review, I made the short jaunt over to beautiful Lafayette, Indiana to check out their newish downtown pizzeria-pub, Professor Joe's Sports Pub and Pizzeria.

The Professor is in. Making pizzas and rockin' a mortarboard like a playa.

As we're right now in the thick of that venerable, four-year solstice known as World Cup, a time when bespectacled white guys in their 20s suddenly become "futbol" experts and drag their hapless girlfriends to sit idly in bars for hours on end, all twelve of the Professor's flatscreens were tuned to USA vs. Portugal winding down into its final minutes (Final: 2-2, a truly thrilling match.) 



Professor Joe's possesses a classic sports pub set-up: there's a long, narrow bar and an upstairs seating area with terrific views of the action. You can see from the pic that they have wall darts, which is cool, but they also have regular euchre tournaments, which is intriguing in a West Coast-sports pub sort of way. (The vibe is reminiscent of the famous Albatross Pub in Berkeley.) 
  

But I sense they're still figuring out how to run a restaurant-pub. A number of Yelpers noted the bad service, too, and boy, they weren't kidding. 

There's no host/hostess, which makes perfect sense; it's a pub, so you walk in the door and seat yourself. The tables downstairs were full, so we decided to head upstairs to get top-down perspective on the ambience and the vintage, working scoreboard. This is a nice touch.

It works, I swear. It just isn't working in this pic.

And then we sat. And sat. And sat. If you've ever been in this position, you understand the unique predicament it presents. On the one hand, you can sit—drinkless and foodless—and stew. 

Or you can find an employee and politely let them know that you exist. As with most aspects of life in these here United States, there's the decision-making part and then there's the execution part. I always seem to have a harder time with the latter.   

I'll spare you the massive confusion that ensued over the next fifty minutes or so, but it involves, among a load of other weird stuff, me making a special trip down to the bar for a draught Miller Lite (the Rebel IPA was dry, along with the rest of their "good beer") independent of and yet right in front of my server; a young woman at a neighboring table who was quite possibly a Muppet; a man I suspected to be Professor Joe himself sporting a Nebraska Cornhuskers shirt (sans mortarboard); and some weirdass liquor and ginger beer concoction called "American Mule." (Full disclosure: it's a foul, nasty beverage, not at all the American-style pale ale I thought I was ordering. And yes, I'm a dumbass.)

  

You must be at least this confused to wait tables at Professor Joe's.
Could have something to do with being Nebraska fans, I don't know.  

Now for some of the positives. I like the pizza; I really do. 

I ordered their veggie, of course, which sports a fair-to-middling smattering of the usual suspects—mushrooms, black olives, green bell pepper, and thin-sliced strips of white onion—all bogged down in loads of delightful, fresh-tasting mozzarella cheese.

My partner in crime opted for a simple, delicious slice of classic cheese. Joe's offers pizza-by-the-slice at all hours—a huge plus (and rare in these parts)—though as with all pizza-by-the-slice deals you're limited to whatever pies they have happen to have ready. 

What's most interesting about the Prof's pizza is the crust. 

To be perfectly frank, I've never had anything quite like it. There's a chewiness reminiscent of those soft-baked Duncan Hines cookies that were really popular in the 1980s, but without a hint of sweetness, or even saltiness. It's a neutral-tasting crust; this isn't exactly the same as "flavorless," mind you, it's just that the crust has more of a supporting role in the grand scheme.

  

    

Another saving grace on this pie might be the excessive amount of cheese. 

The rest of the menu boasts an impressive array of specialty pizzas (click here for pics) like the Boilermaker (stuffed homemade meatballs, banana peppers, black olives, and extra cheese) and the Cornhusker (roast beef, roasted red peppers, caramelized onions, and cheddar). Appetizers include the usual garlic and cheese bread, meatballs, antipasto, and all manner of deliciously-doughy knots, twists, and cords.

The pizza is a bit pricey. The small specialty pies (10-inchers) run $12, while the large (14-inchers) pole vault all the way to a cool $20. Customized pies start at $8/$14; add a buck or two per topping. 

Probably a better joint for a quickie by-the-slice and a solo pint than your retirement party.    

Give 'em a try. If you find yourself standing at shop windows in downtown Lafayette, hands shoved nervously in your pockets as you navigate the drunken hoards in town for Mosey, the Professor assigns a late afternoon of pizza and good conversation, followed immediately with the festive debauch just outside.     

If I ever return, I'd try to snag a seat at the bar. The food is good enough, and the pizza here is sufficiently unique to warrant a return visit. If this was my neighborhood, I'd probably hit it up once a week for a pint and a slice, but the Promised Land it ain't. The journey continues.

Class=O.

Coming up Friday: Martino's Italian Villa (back home in Kokomo!)