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.

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.

Ned's Corner Pub: A Legacy

On the corner of Markland and Main sits a relic. Surrounded by antiquated warehouses and dilapidated homes, Ned’s Corner Pub--which has survived two fires to date--is an artifact of the past. It is old. Its brick façade is in dire need of a power wash. Shutters on the opposite side of the building are stained orange with rust. Otherwise, the building manages to outshine most on the block. In a way, Ned’s stands as an icon, stuck somewhere between the old Kokomo of yesteryear to the south, and the modernizing Kokomo growing upward and onward to the north. 

As a former townie of Kokomo, Ned’s Corner Pub is not unfamiliar territory.  I distinctly remember walking through the front doors as a kid and being greeted by the stale cigarette stench that pervaded family dining. Walking into Ned’s this time brought a wave of nostalgia only a rundown bar in my hometown could bring. While the cigarette smell had long since been replaced with grilling foods and cleaning solvents, you can practically feel the small-town vibes emanating from these walls. Fresh wood flooring replaced the ruddy carpet and booths lined the walls on either side. I seated myself and watched the hustle and bustle of the dining room. It felt homey. It felt natural.

In waiting for the waitress, who manned 2 10-tops while also running the hostess station, I thumbed through some local history. It’s better to know a little something about the pizza place you are about to indulge in, or so I would think.

Ned Glunt bought the pub in 1964. In 1969, Ned decided to expand from his little bar into dining, as well. He and his wife, Clara, bought Mills Drug Store--an attached compartment of their building on Markland--and converted it into family dining. Ned’s Corner Pub soon became a mainstay of Kokomo which has stood the test of time well into the 21st century. After Ned’s passing, the pub landed in the hands of his sons, Dean and Mario. They honored his legacy with a street festival in the heart of Kokomo in July of 2000. Nowadays, Mario runs the Corner Pub.

Articles courtesy of KHCPL

News about Ned’s Corner Pub fills the last couple decades of the local paper, and I couldn’t manage to read everything before the pizza arrived. However, I did manage to pick up a couple comments that gave me a lot of hope about this place: Ned's pizza was to die for.

So, would this pizza live up to its hype?

Half Cheese / Half Pepperoni, Mushroom, and Jalapeno

Ned’s pizza is a lot like its place in Kokomo history. It is classic. Stuck somewhere between a thin crust and Brooklyn-style density, it looked much like what I expected. The crust kept its composure upon tearing off a slice, and the cheese oozed generously apart from the whole--the “cheese stretch test” is important, after all. The toppings jutted out from under the surface. It was picturesque. And the taste was much the same.

Toppings can be a very masking aspect of any pie, however, so I decided to pick apart a slice just to test the toppings on their own. I came out of that experience with my eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as my eating companion so eloquently put it. Not because they were something extraordinary. No, my emotiveness came because the toppings were actually WORSE disassembled from the whole. The pepperonis felt much like they came from a Lunchable, the mushrooms were a bit slimy, and the jalapenos likely came from a jar. They were mediocre, and that’s me being generous. But when brought together, they somehow defied logic. Like a Bermuda Triangle of food, when piled high on that cheesy square, they created a symphony of flavor far better than the isolated components individually. Even as I write this, I think it must’ve been the mysticism of the Halloween season getting to me. Nothing short of Twilight Zone-grade happenence could explain what just occurred. *Cue the intro music to X-Files*

Would've cleaned the plate if my wife didn't insist I stop stuffing my face

Ned’s Corner Pub epitomizes Kokomo. It has a way of embracing those that call Kokomo home, and it serves its people well; true to its promise. Since our first outing, not much has changed at Ned’s Corner Pub, and that’s a good thing. It still serves good food and cold beer. However, pizza may be where we started this journey, but Ned’s came through as much more than just a hometown pizza joint. It’s historic for the people of this city. While writing and researching this piece, a number of random people looking over my shoulder decided to strike up a conversation about Ned’s, asking if I wanted to attend a tasting event of some type at the pub, or if I played in the shuffleboard league. Ned’s is a living, breathing heartbeat in this town. And while the pizza was solid, tasty, and thoroughly enjoyed by this writer, Ned’s Corner Pub defines this city. Pizza only feeds it.

Give me a week, Ned's, and I will probably be back for more!