Pappa La Rosa

Don’t let the ice rink fool you, there is some serious pizza making going on here. In my opinion it ranks right up there with Grimaldi’s. I think its one of the best kept secrets around.

I dunno about this place, It wasn’t «bad» but it’s def not a place I’d go for pizza. I’d rather order Papa John’s and stay in. We got a large cheese pizza, but it was just like average pizza — ice rink pizza. The ice rink that is in there is pretty neat, and the people a pretty nice. Oh and they have a tv in there. I haven’t tried any non-​pizza stuff, so that might be better.

Whenever «Flying Pizza» is involved – I’m sold. Their business card boasts: «Best Pizza in Fort Bend County Guaranteed.» I believe them. They could also give Harris County some serious competition! Pappa La Rosa is not fooling around when he makes the suckers fly.
This place gets mad points for quirky location. The restaurant is situated adjacent to an ice rink, has a juke box, a partition wall (for parties?) and their t-​shirts are a Pappa La Rosa version of the Godfather art. It’s also nice that it’s family-​owned and operated. The rink had me worried. Is this skating rink pizza then? Far from it!
We ordered an appetizer but they make the pizza here so quick that they came out at the same time. No worries though because the Toasted Ravioli was quite tasty, but that pizza – was a pleasant slice of surprise. We ordered the Spinach and Artichoke Specialty pizza and added feta. All doubts eliminated and all taste buds as gleeful as can be!
Everything about the pizza is spectacular. It’s well put together and the crust is a beautiful, tasty affair. Like Pappa La Rosa’s receipts say – «Forget about it!»

I haven’t been here since the Mesolithic age when we threw pie dough from one to another in the dining room and laughed with glee when it struck the floor. My family would gather and the old men would drink beer ’til the bloat of their belly forced a loosening of the belt and a fart snuck out sideways. The women would make their tut tut noises as we, the unruly children were greatly entertained by the flinging dough and the strains of Tom T Hall coming in over a battered radio tuned to KICK.
Man, I hate Huston, Get me westward and homward through Amarillo or Horizon City.
It’s better’n Furrs…