The first thing you notice at Lucky's is the noise. Country and classic rock pour out of the speakers. Pool balls crack. Laughter runs into arguments about nothing that matters. The room is full of people whose hands do real work, now wrapped around pool cues and plastic cups while they forget about roofs, engines, kids, and bills. We stayed for about an hour. Long enough to see this is a regulars' bar, the kind where people walk in already laughing at a joke that started three nights ago.
Alli clocked us as soon as we came through the door.
"You're Tim, right?"
She then began quoting the parts that she liked from last year's RI FOOD FIGHTS Lord of the Pies review back to me. Sometimes word for word. Out of the blue. Nodding as she went. She agreed with it. Lucky's knew they'd landed near the bottom of my list. No excuse making. Just a little hope, I think, that this year would read differently. I wanted that too.
They know exactly what they are at Lucky's: a bar that feeds and waters the people who live nearby. The neighborhood's living room.
The staff and the neighbors have always been the stars. The pizza finally caught up.
They make their own dough on site every day. As far as I can tell, that's how they've always done it. What changed is how it all comes together on the pan. The pie that landed in front of us looked like exactly what it is. A really solid Greek pizza. Crust on the thicker side, with a soft chew and a clean crunch at the back end. Sauce with an herby backbone. A little sweet but with enough acid to keep it from feeling heavy. Cheese that melts into browned, salty pockets you hunt down at the edge of the crust. Greek pies don't try to innovate anything. They just have to be honest. This one is.
Last year, Lucky's was dead last on Lord of the Pies rankings. This year it climbed to dead center. Twenty one out of forty. That doesn't sound heroic until you remember nothing else about the place changed. Same bar. Same crowd. Same noise. Same staff.
The only difference was how good the pizza is now.
I have no confusion that Lucky's is a bar that serves pizza, not a pizzeria that happens to have a bar. The difference now is that THIS pizza can stand right there with all of the other places that put "pizza" in big letters on the sign.
But how many of those places are this fun or friendly?
Alli told us maybe a hundred people had come through with coupons. She laughed and said you can usually spot the "pizza people" as soon as they walk in. She wasn't wrong.
We were those people.
What mattered was how her regulars handled it. Our friends ended up spending most of the time talking to the guys at the pool table. People at the bar asked where we were from, how many places we'd hit, how this pie stacked up. At no point did we feel like outsiders passing through to collect another stamp.
If you live nearby, you already know what Lucky's is. If you're cutting across Foster on your way to a casino or just trying to get lost for a bit, you can walk in, grab a pie, and sit at a bar that doesn't treat you like you're intruding on an inside joke. The pizza moved from forgettable to solid.
The time we spent there felt like a little redemption story. And everyone in the building had a hand in writing it. And who doesn't love a nice, hot pizza or a happy ending? read more