If you’re looking for quality and quantity in Pittsburgh, Burgh’s Pizza & Wing Pub is the place to go. The sports bar, located in Bridgeville, is always packed, but you’ll never have to wait too long for a table.
My boyfriend had been talking about its unrivaled pizza and relatively vast beer selection since I planned my visit weeks before. So, I went that weekend in the company of Burgh’s ideal dining party - a group of college-age boys.
The restaurant is spacious, with exposed ceiling and two dining rooms plus a video game arcade. Unlike most sports bars, it’s not cluttered with HD TVs playing every live game (the perfect remedy for an A.D.D. sports fan, but not so conducive to family dinners or little league celebrations). Nevertheless, Burgh’s won’t let you forget that you’re in Steelers territory with its painted mural on its biggest wall.
The 10-minute wait felt much longer as my eyes grazed on deep-dish pizzas piled with meat and veggies, cheese-oozing calzones and baskets of glistening wings. After seeing these linebacker-size portions, I was surprised by the handful of pretzels the waitress gave us to munch on when we sat down. It was barely enough to curb the appetite of one of my fellow diners, so they ordered cheese fries with bacon.
Naturally, Burgh’s specializes in pizza and wings, so I perused the specialty pizzas. They were like entrées on pizza dough: Clam Bake pizza, a meat-lovers Zesty Italian pizza, and Sausage Dream Deep Dish. I opted for the Super Chicken pizza with chicken, broccoli, mushrooms, tomatoes and cheese (an otherwise conventional dinner made a hundred times tastier in the form of a Burgh’s pizza).
The cheese fries were quick to arrive, and even quicker to be devoured. But there is always room in a boy’s stomach and soon after half of the artery-clogging appetizers disappeared, the waitress brought out our entrées. I think they orchestrated it so that each portion size got impressively larger: first the “small” pizzas, then the large ones, then the calzone, which looked like they took a large pizza, loaded on the toppings and then folded it over. For $10 it was a steal.
I dove into my pizza, ignoring the oven-hot grease that burned my fingers. I soon realized that the only way to devour the pizza was with a knife and fork. No grated parm or red pepper flakes for this baby, it was perfectly seasoned.
But after two pieces I was full. (I blame it on the beer.) And despite the pre-dinner growls and “you won’t finish that” challenges from my fellow diners, the boys started to slow down, too. We left the pizza joint with 10 take-away boxes and seven satisfied appetites. You figure that one out.
