Uppermost crust

Unlike pizzerias that play Pavarotti on the sound system and decorate the dining room in green, white, and red like il Tricolore of Italy, Russell’s makes no effort to feel Italian.

Nor does it offer a distinctive American style of pizza such as those found in St. Louis, Detroit, or the Ohio Valley. Why would it? As far as I know, neither South Carolina nor the South in general has a pizza uniquely its own. Russell’s serves a pie you could call provincial, found in small towns coast to coast.

There’s nothing unusual about the restaurant’s side-street ambience or the New World character of its uncomplicated tomato sauce and chewy cheese so different from creamy buffalo mozzarella. However, sinking teeth into crust reveals why Russell’s has fans. For a crust-lover on death row, this pizza could be a last-meal request. Stretched and hand-tossed high in the air when ordered, the yeasty dough emerges from the oven with crunch in every bite.

Heft a large slice in one hand. It will stay level all the way to the point. Of course, a top-of-the-line extravaganza laden with chicken, beef, bacon, two kinds of cheese, and a deluge of ranch dressing might droop. Still, utensils would not be helpful.

Pizza arrives at the table on a corrugated cardboard trivet that helps keep its bottom from softening.

Optional toppings range from sausage and pepperoni to such iconoclasms as pineapple chunks and jalapeno pepper slices. Team the pineapple and pepper with nubbins of ham plus mozzarella and cheddar cheese to create a sweet, spicy, salty, chewy, gooey Hawaiian pie sure to make classic-minded gastronomes tear out their hair. Must I relinquish my James Beard awards if I admit I like it?

Cheeseburger pizza is another example of culinary miscegenation likely to raise hackles at the Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana. That’s the organization that says it exists to “promote and protect, in Italy and worldwide, the ‘true Neapolitan pizza’ made in accordance with the rules and guidelines described in the International Regulations Book.”

In this case, I’m with the VPN. Shriveled pebbles of ground beef join a carpet of cheddar that suffocates the crust, resulting in pizza that’s lost its muscle tone and offers neither the juicy satisfaction of an American cheeseburger nor the elegant mouthfeel of a proper Neapolitan pizza.

Restaurants in southeastern New York use the word “wedge” to label what most of us know as a hero, hoagie, or sub. At Russell’s, “The Original Wedge” is something else. Resembling a puffy taco or pita pocket, a folded-over round of flatbread holds either shreds of cube steak with mozzarella and cheddar cheese or a plenteous mix of chicken, pepperoni, sausage, cheese, and lettuce. Ranch dressing lubricates both versions.

(Parenthetically, can anybody tell me how ranch dressing became the dip, condiment, or sauce of choice for so many of this nation’s plebeian eats?)

Although it is paper-napkin-casual, Russell’s is not a fast-food restaurant. Everything takes a while. Lasagna that the menu describes as homemade is brought to the table by the chef herself a good half hour after I’ve placed the order.

I’m guessing it had been frozen, got zapped in the microwave, then finally spent time in an oven. She apologizes for the wait; and as I plunge my plastic fork into it, hoping the frail utensil is strong enough to extricate a heavyweight mouthful, I see her peeking out from the kitchen to observe how I enjoy it.

Like Russell’s pizza, the lasagna does not try to be authentic. It reminds me of an upper-Midwest hot-dish casserole that glorifies cheese. Copious deposits of it overwhelm a smattering of ground beef and sheets of pasta cooked enough that al dente isn’t even a memory. It is accompanied by lengths of toasted Italian-style bread brushed with garlic butter or a substance that resembles it.

Hero sandwiches, wraps, salads, and hamburgers round out the menu. The steak and cheese sub does a fair job impersonating a cheese steak from Philadelphia (with or without optional mushrooms and peppers); and wings come sauced or plain, the latter a good bet for those who enjoy gnawing very crisp skin.