#dulonos

Dulono’s was the inspiration for our inaugural post, and we are deeply saddened to hear that grievous harm befell one of their own, Andrew Gryskiewicz, while carrying out his pizza delivering duties and making the world a brighter, happier, and more caloric place. Lets make it rain dollars on his medical bills!

On the first Thursday of every month, weather permitting, the Dulono’s Pizza parking lot overflows with bikers. You can hear their overloud muffler rumble throughout the Uptown neighborhood of Minneapolis. Imagine M.C. Escher paintings with leather vests and Harleys instead of staircases and lizard puzzles. The building looks about five decades old because it is about five decades old (established in 1957). Which is to say that it looks a bit out of place against the rapidly gentrifying Uptown backdrop. So much so, that when we mention having visited Dulono’s, the typical response is: “The fuck?”

But fear not! One shouldn’t be deterred by the appearance of sketchiness when there’s pizza to be had. And lo, when last The Sad Time descended upon us, we chose Dulono’s Pizza. And then we chose it again a couple days later because their pizza is like a cheesy hug for your insides, and who doesn’t want their insides to feel loved?

Dulono’s doesn’t look like anything special. From the outside, it resembles a decommissioned Pizza Hut of old, and its interior is dark in a way that doesn’t seem entirely intentional outside of the 70’s. (For our New England readers, imagine a Papa Gino’s circa 1983.) We suspect it’s the grease-worn nature of a place that’s been churning phenomenal pizza from the same fiery crucible for over five decades.

Embrace the darkness of Dulono’s Pizza and you will be rewarded. It invites you to be comfortable, like a long term relationship. You could wear sweatpants there if you wanted; nobody would judge you. There will pretty much always be a seat for you, since the building is deceptively large and people in the neighborhood all have the same response when we tell them how good it is: “Really?” Seriously, go to Dulono’s. Fill those seats. Keep this glorious pizza purveyor contributing to the collective Minneapolitan cholesterol level for decades to come.

A pizza from Dulono’s is served quickly, just ten to fifteen minutes after you order. What you get is a thin, pliable crust that is, gloriously, both bendable and slightly crunchy. The straight-up cheese pizza isn’t even greasy, which lets the simple, bold flavors whisper sweet nothings into your arteries. The cheese is salty but not too salty; the sauce is sweet but not too sweet; the crust is seasoned just enough to let you focus on its texture and its bounty of flavors. Each table is equipped with a war chest of napkins, parmesan cheese, red pepper flakes, and salt. (Boyfriend favors a pile of parmesan with an occasional dash of salt, while Girlfriend does not alter the delicate balance of simple ingredients, nomming au naturel.)

The quality doesn’t suffer if you choose to sully the perfection of a cheese pizza with toppings, though we can only speak to the pepperoni. The grease is unavoidable, and your meat-slick hands will reflect your dietary conscience. It’s great if you’re looking for a delicious way to pretend you’re Dorian Gray.

No matter how you eat it, though, we can say in full confidence that a pizza from Dulono’s is a fine thing — one of the finest pizzas that this pizza-devouring Voltron has ever enjoyed, and certainly in the top tier of the Twin Cities pizza scene.  

We should also mention that, while not directly concerning the pizza, Dulono’s has two-for-one beer all day, every day, except for during live music events. And their beer is actually good:

That Alaskan seasonal? That was a god damn pumpkin porter. A glorious pumpkin porter. Nearly 10% alcohol by volume, and only six bucks for two thanks to two-for-ones. (Girlfriend is sated by two pints of Surly Furious.)

While we don’t factor prices into our ratings, Dulono’s pizza is also an incredible value. Behold:

Go to Dulono’s. You don’t even have to thank us. Just Dulono it.

Boyfriend’s Additional Thoughts

Boyfriend’s only complaint about Dulono’s is the fact that the pizza comes sliced into squares rather than traditional triangle-shaped slices. Boyfriend craves this shape both from years of expectations and from a deep-seated desire to fold the gloriously pliable crust into itself like a tender hug that fits in his mouth. That said, Dulono’s Pizza easily gets full marks from him. Five slices!

Girlfriend’s Additional Thoughts

Girlfriend thinks it worth mentioning that Dulono’s also has a pool table, an assortment of electronic amusements at the parking lot entrance, and a collection of neon signs advertising beers they may or may not serve. Dulono’s savory dial goes to 11 for every meal, Girlfriend’s slice meter goes to 5. Eat up.

Overall Rating