Luigi's: massive portions, orgasmic calzones

It's big. Falling over the edge of the thick white plate, its almost naan-like crust letting off steam, it dares you to cut to the chase. The bubbling hot marinara sauce tempts you to go straight to the filling: "cut me open, big boy, and dip right in." But resist the siren call of the Luigi's Apizza calzone—this 12-inch wide monster must be savored slowly, with due homage to the golden-brown crust, the light, fresh dough, and the simmering, piquant Marinara sauce (this is the "small" version, $5.50; be afraid, be very afraid of the 18-inch large, $10.75). If you're hasty, if you stuff the entirity of it into yourself, you just might not make it up the stairs and out of the little basement calzone paradise.

EUGENE WONG/YH Selling customers' drawings of pizza only worked for a few weeks.

Freshness, size, and inexpensiveness are the saving graces of the York Street branch of Luigi's Apizza restaurant (773-3069), "Home of the 99-cent slice," and the world's most sumptuous calzone. Luigi's is the latest pizza provider to show up on the New Haven scene, and although it has an orgasmic calzone, it will have trouble competing with the tried and true. Luigi's offers neither pitchers of beer for rowdy, horny freshmen, nor Montana-sized crusts for late-night library study breaks. Located at 166 York St., two doors down from Bangkok Gardens, and open from 11 a.m. until 11 p.m. daily and until midnight on Saturday, it is too far for drunken pizza binges. The basement décor and four-person counter aren't fit for even the worst screw date. And despite claiming to serve the "Real Wooster Street of New Haven" Italian-style pizza, Luigi's isn't even in the same county as Sally's or Pepe's.

But Luigi's does have classic college-student appeal: cheap food in large portions. Simple is the best way to go here; the pizzas are easy on the pocket, not at all greasy (only two napkins to dab the extra grease off, compared with an average of five at Yorkside), and have fresh cheese. The thin, soft crust is somewhat bland, but then the whole pie is like that—no special character, just a regular, wholesome slice-next-door. Cheese and pepperoni slices are pre-made and kept warm in the oven, but the specialty "Apizzas" are made fresh with anything from clams to eggplant. Prices range from $7 for a small one-topping to $18 for a large specialty.

The other staples of Italian take-out are similarly basic and uninspired. The garlic bread with parmesan ($3), although made with enough bread to feed a small third-world country, is lacking in both garlic and parmesan. The baked chicken wings ($6) float in an inch of standing grease, and the sauce is more rancid than spicy. Grinders, in the general theme of the restaurant, are big and fresh; the bread is nice and crusty—no soggy sub buns here—and the sausage I ordered ($5) is thick and juicy. Dinner specials at Luigi's include (surprise!) big bowls of freshly made pasta (spaghetti for $5.50, lasagne for $8.75) and veal/chicken/eggplant parmesan (from $8.75 to $9.75). The more complex dishes, such as the stuffed eggplant rolletine ($9.75), have pre-made ingredients, and tend to be a little greasy.

Although I'm embarrassed to confess that I ordered a salad (tossed green salad with grilled chicken, $5.50) in a restaurant that packages three heart attacks in each entrée, it is a credit to Luigi's that even their fresh vegetables are...well, fresh. Unfortunately, the crispy lettuce and juicy tomatoes were topped with bone-dry chicken.

Ten pounds and a sheaf of napkins later, I'm back to the last of the calzone, staring into the monster's eyes, trembling in the face of the still-steaming ricotta cheese. I don't have the strength to finish, so I wrap up the remains, heft the three-pound package up Luigi's narrow stairs, and head into the night air. The long trek home begins.

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