Out to Eat at Toppers Pizza: Unbelievable and unforgettable
Let’s be honest: Toppers Pizza belongs in a fever dream. A chain slinging dough bombs to college students until 3 a.m. with more confidence than Icarus on wax wings? It sounds too good to be true, but then you take your first bite of their Mac ‘N Cheese pizza, and suddenly the universe makes sense — at least for a few gooey, carb-loaded minutes.
This is not pizza in the traditional sense. It’s not Italian, it’s not New York-style and calling it “deep dish” would be insulting to Chicago. This is something even better: 20 dollars and 99 cents of a Midwestern chaos on a large, hand-tossed crust. Nacho-cheese base. Elbow noodles. A melty lake of grated cheddar and mozzarella elegantly and evenly sprinkled on top. It should be wrong. It is wrong. But it tastes like pure ecstasy after a long night out downtown, and if that’s wrong, then who the hell wants to be right?
Then there are the Pepperoni Stix — $11.49 for a single, but $15.49 for a triple order that fills the same cardboard box as a large pizza. Pillowy dough, some more cheese, cubed pepperoni and a dipping sauce of choice that doubles as a personality test. Are you a ranch addict? Perhaps a marinara devotee, or a blue cheese anarchist? No matter what you choose, the Stix won’t judge you. They’re just here to hold your hand through whatever crises led you to place and pick up your order throughout the span of no less than 15 minutes on a random Tuesday.
The thing is, Toppers isn’t trying to reinvent pizza. It’s trying to weaponize it. Every menu item is designed for the hyper-specific hunger that hits when you’ve just survived finals week or a 48-hour lock-in at the Mirror office grinding out the latest print edition. There is no subtlety, no artisanal aspiration. Just bold, absurd combinations that dare you to feel ashamed.
But here’s the twist: Toppers is better than it has any right to be. The food isn’t aiming for refined. It’s aiming for comfort food maximalism, and it’s checking all the boxes. The crust is chewy. The toppings are unapologetically abundant. And every order feels like sitting on a dorm floor and remembering an inside joke with the most unhinged roommate you’ve ever had.
So go ahead. Order the Mac ‘N Cheese pizza. Feeling spicy? Try the Buffalo Chicken Mac N’ Cheese for a mere two dollars more. Get the Pepperoni Stix. Double down with some loaded Topperstix if you’re feeling dangerous, and top it all off with a pint of their decadent dark chocolate ice cream with brownie chunks. Toppers isn’t judging. It’s cheering you on.
Because sometimes, in this cold and chaotic world, you don’t need gourmet food. You need a steaming-hot pizza that looks you dead in the eyes and says: You up?
