For a community to be labled a town, there must be the pizza shop. It's both a necessary and sufficient condition. It just couldn't be a town otherwise. It's where middle schoolers go on the half-days, where meals for 20 are made in a half hour, and could very well be housing a collection of 20+ year old grafitti.

Some would argue that Shrewsbury MA is THE suburban town of America, which sports at least 5 pizza places: Shrewsbury Pizza, Dean Park Pizza, Goldens Pizza, White City Pizza, and of course.. Village Pizza.

Village Pizza primarially sells pizzas. From my well educated guess at least 75% of the income is from pizza sales. They are damn fine pizzas. The calzones, however, are the hidden gem. It's the only thing I buy (unless it's a happens to be a Monday or Tuesday) and its the best thing they make.

My dedication to Village Pizza borders on the worship. You could say this building is my Temple, and the calzones are my salvation.

So now, here is:



Village Pizza opened on October 14, 1991. I can't remember what existed before Village, but it doesn't matter in the least. For all anyone cares it was the town dump.

See the man behind the counter? He won't take your order or give you your calzone. He spends his time in the back room cutting cheese, or off to the side making subs. This could be, in fact, the only time we have ever made eye contact.

See the man in the back? His name is Nick. He is the man in charge, the brains of the organization. He's there from daybreak at 9am until closing time at 11pm. He's the one who started this place... whose sweat and blood has turned Village Pizza from the lowly grease-shack to the world famous calzone-factory.

Try to understand something: Nick, the man in this picture, has made and sold me well over one hundred calzones and this is the only photographic evidence I will ever have of him.

This may be the only picture of Nick in existence.

What is he doing in this picture? He is telling his wife to step into camera, so he doesn't have to.

...and so she does. I appreciate it, Mrs. Nick.

Calzones at Village Pizza cost $5.50. It used to be $5 even, until they realized the value of one these things. Nick will use any ingredient he can find in the store for a calzone. Salami and pepperoni? Ham and pineapple? Sausage and green pepper? Meatball bacon and mushroom? In it all goes.

Nick serves it all piping hot with a side of marinara.


Note: the Village Pizza calzone, by definition, is actually a stromboli. Traditional calzones have a cheese mixture containing mozzarella and ricotta while a stromboli only has mozzarella. This technicality makes no difference to me or Nick. A calzone it is and always will be.

Here it is: the secret to the Village Pizza Calzone. TOPPINGS. Nick practically jumps up and down on top of the calzone in order to jam all these toppings in.

Myself, I prefer sausage and green pepper.

its the way you eat the calzone. like a giant slice of pizza.

hot damn, sucka.


Click here for the Village Pizza tour. Virtual happiness.




It just so happens I have some additional random pictures of calzone meals. So on they go.

Nick will slice the calzone into 3 sections if you let him. Save the middle piece for last, otherwise the hot toppings tend to spil.

Dan shows off his calzone... which looks like a meatball and onion.

I think it's gross... but whatever.

Greg chooses hawaiian and hawaiian only. Both for shirts and calzones.

Kar almost always chooses a meat and meat calzone, but here it looks to be sausage and green pepper.

Meatball and something. Maybe mushrooms, maybe just meatball.

Remember to use a napkin, but don't dwell on the grease.

It's your friend. Really.


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