Front Boy !! Pizzas from the Front Room

Today the tradewinds of the Mare Island straights call the diners to The Front Room, the Vallejo outlet of the San Francisco based pizza and beer joint.

The Process:
A perusal through the Vallejo phone directory yielded just one other F restaurant, an Italian joint open only for dinner. Immediately upon hearing we were to dine at the Front Room, Cougar bailed out with her heartfelt apologies. And, to her eternal credit, she did attempt to work this thing phonetically, saying that we should eat something from Pho #2. C’mon, be true to your alphabet,” Tuna called out. But when Cougar has her lunch palate set on something (or set against something), there’s really no dissuading her. Both Cougar and Mz. Moon said that they believed the Front Room was a front organization for a group originating in the Philippine Islands. I wouldn’t know about that.

The Front Room faxed us a menu and we were off. Pizza, sandwiches, salads and grilled fare were the stars of this menu. I was tempted by the club sandwich, but in the end decided that if we were to be in Rome by way of Manila, the pancit pizza would surely be the way to go. Hula Girl was attending a mandatory meeting of some sort, most likely involving the appropriateness of the grass skirt as professional attire, and thus would not be joining us today.

The Chow:
The Front Room experience underscores an important rule in dining: If there are more windows than waitstaff, bring the Pepto-Bismol. The view inside the Front Room is gorgeous. Floor to ceiling window run end to end give in house diners an unparalleled view of Mare Island. The owner of the establishment looks out the windows while seated at a small table with a money box. He listens intently to what goes on in his kitchen. Would that it were the other way around. Tuna ordered the “Sweet and Juicy” pizza—pineapple and mushrooms. I opted for the cheese and fresh tomato. Tuna raved about his meal, going on and on and on about how this was one of the best pizzas he had ever had. I looked at my sorry, soggy, undercooked pile of fat and carbs and wondered just what it was that I’ve been missing in life.



My experience of the food from the Front Room brought back memories from my earliest days as a restaurant critic while a student at Berkeley. I recall wanting to write a book entitled “Never Eat There.” For me, the Front Room would have a place in that book’s hall of fame.

The Wrap:
de gustibus non est disputandum—lit. There is not to be a discussion regarding tastes.

The Rating: 3 out of 5.