Consuming Impulse: Albano's pizza puff

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Kataklysm/Ex Deo frontman Maurizio Iacono recently opened a pizzeria, Albano’s #2, in Chicago (See story here.) I sent Carm to test his arteries against Albano’s famous pizza puff. Carm mistakenly went to the original Albano’s in Cicero (5913 W. Roosevelt Road). After learning of his error, Carm then went to Albano’s #2 in Lyons (8699 W. Ogden), the location associated with Iacono. His text below reflects his error. However, it yields reviews of both locations and a useful comparison of their pizza puffs. – C.L.

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When I first heard the news that Kataklysm’s Maurizio Iacono opened a pizzeria in Chicago, I was intrigued by his choice. Locating his business in Chicago was a more logical move versus opening one in Montreal. After all, Chicago is well-known for having the best pizza in the world. This is not just a fact, but also a part of the city’s cultural identity.

Iacono’s business is called Albano’s Pizzeria, located in the working class suburb of Cicero, which borders Chicago to the west. Upon entering, I was surprised by how small the place was. It had the internal aesthetics of a typical Chicago pizzeria: framed posters of Italian-American films like Rocky and The Godfather, a stock photo of Wrigley Field, wooden cubicles with seats covered in red vinyl. A jukebox contained mostly pop and Top 40 CDs. Its closest selections to metal were best-of compilations of Van Halen and ABBA. The ’90s R&B hit “I Swear” was playing when I walked in. There were no indications whatsoever that the pizzeria’s owner fronted a Canadian brutal death metal band.

Albano’s claim to fame is that they make the largest pizza puffs in the Chicagoland area. I ordered said puff with the tried-and-tested formula of sausages and green peppers. Because the puff is freshly made, it requires at least 25 minutes to prepare. When it came out, I was astonished at how big it was. It probably had a width of at least 18 inches, with a thickness of at least 2 inches. When I sliced it in half, white, hot mozzarella cheese oozed out, along with homemade marinara sauce, as well as bits of sausage and green peppers. The crust was buttery and flaky, with a touch of olive oil. The sausage bits were sweet, a good indication that they were lovingly ground in the same day. The green peppers were as fresh as the day they were picked from a doting mother’s garden. The marinara sauce was hearty and succulent. Because of its size, I was only able to finish half of the puff. I took the rest home for dinner, and even after getting microwaved, the puff retained its freshness.

These pizza puffs share a striking similarity to brutal death metal: they are both an easily acquired taste that can also be an endurance test for its disciples. As long as Iacono keeps Albano’s in business, I will keep on taking the half-hour commute to Cicero to savor these brutal pizza puffs.

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A week later, I ventured out to the western suburb of Lyons to check out the second location of Albano’s. On the short walk from the Metra station, a guy in a pickup truck complimented me on my Voivod shirt, a good sign. The second location had a friendlier vibe compared to the one in Cicero. It was brightly lit with big windows and neon signs. The tables were neatly organized and the condiments were available right at the counter. A flat screen TV was showing an episode of The Simpsons. Just like the other location, there was no indication of Maurizio’s other career within the pizzeria. It was all strictly business.

I made my way to the register and met Sal, Maurizio’s co-owner. He was a friendly gentleman, the type of guy from whom you would like to hear cool stories. He explained that the location in Cicero was founded by his parents 23 years ago. He mentioned that Maurizio was still out on tour, and had cool stories about bands coming in for pizza puffs. He also told me about a group of U.S. servicemen who came in and ordered 10 meats to be stuffed in the puffs. My heart cringed at that thought. I decided for my own health that I’d stick with moderation as much as possible.

I ordered the same pizza puff as the last time, but in lieu of green peppers, I opted for mushrooms. The order was quicker to prepare this time, and my jaw almost dropped to the floor when the pizza puff arrived. It was significantly larger than the last one; it was about half the size of a full-grown turkey. Sal mentioned that each pizza puff weighs at least two pounds. With condiments and pop in hand, I immediately dove in. The quality of the puff was just as good as the last one. The sausage exhibited the same fresh sweetness. The homemade sauce was as soothing as ever. The mushrooms were plump and juicy. The crust exhibited the same olive oil-basted flavor. Sal asked me if it hit the spot. I responded that it sure did, and then some.

Should any of you go to Albano’s for the pizza puffs, bring a friend or two. One person cannot eat these monster-sized meals alone. It makes me wonder: did the poor angel [ed. note: I think it’s a demon] in Kataklysm’s latest album’s artwork die of a heart attack after eating these pizza puffs? One could only imagine.

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PHOTOS BY CARM

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Carm occasionally sacrifices his arteries for the sake of this column.

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