Wrecktangle Pizza — Restaurant in Minneapolis

Wrecktangle Wreck-tales: A Saucy Standoff

On Fridays, the gym rats, Mike, and I flex our muscles. One such Friday, we decided to test the hype around Wrecktangle Pizza in Uptown. I parked my car on Aldrich Avenue, a free parking spot, a rare gem in a city where even breathing seems to cost money. I strutted towards the main door, only to find it locked. A sign directed me to an inconspicuous entrance on Lake Street. I could swear the entire restaurant was laughing at my failed break-in attempt!

Once inside, I was warmly greeted and given the choice to brave the elements or enjoy the air-conditioned paradise. Patio, please! Mike, fashionably late, showed up gasping for icy water. The waitress, ever so kind, fetched it post-haste. However, with a seasoned salesperson's persuasive skills, Mike talked me into trading the patio's ambiance for the indoor freeze.

As we sat inside the restaurant, our waitress Ms. Bryn, who seemed to have wrestled with life and won, promptly came and greeted us and asked if we wanted anything to drink, as the spot also had a full bar longer than the Las Vegas strip. Mike ordered a 1919 Root Beer with ice, Bryn told him that the drink came in a super cold mug, but Mike persisted and finally won the battle; Root Beer in an ice-cold mug with ice for him and plain old water with no ice for me.

Our pizzas, mirroring each other in toppings but differing by a slice count of six to two, were officially ordered at 3:02 PM. The eatery, with an ambiance like a metal concert and a personality split between a bar, restaurant, and gift shop, buzzed louder than a bee on caffeine. Children wailed, music played, and Mike, perhaps overwhelmed, enquired about the existence of a cotton candy store. Outside, the scene was equally tumultuous, with ambulances, near-accidents, panhandlers, and a comical line of patrons trying to pry open the dummy door. Mike, playing spy, whispered that Bryn was having a tequila party at the bar.

Mike's Root Beer looked so refreshing that I ordered one too. Our pizzas arrived at 3:27 PM. Mike, ever the critic, complained about the lack of tomato sauce. I hadn't noticed until he pointed it out, and suddenly, I felt like I was munching on cheese bread. Mike, playing the hero, fetched some sauce from Bryn. It did improve the pizza, but the show's star was the 1919 Root Beer.

Boxing the leftover pieces for my wife and sister-in-law, I also packed some of the now-precious sauce on Mike's insistence. The end was near as Bryn presented us with the bill. She inquired about its division - separate, thank you - and then dropped a sauce bomb. Who was to pay for it? What followed was the most "Minnesota nice" standoff I'd ever seen. Armed with pizza-photo evidence, Mike, Bryn, master of the gaslighting technique. I felt like a kid stuck in a grown-up quarrel, wishing to disappear under the table. In a masterstroke of sarcasm, Bryn offered to deduct the sauce - a proposal Mike met with an enthusiastic 'yes.'

As I fled the madhouse, I reflected on our adventure: the pizza- meh!, the atmosphere like a rock concert, but the 1919 Root Beer was absolutely heavenly. Wrecktangle Pizza gets a generous 3.5 stars from me. Would I return? Only if I could bring my own sauce. But, given the likelihood, I might also win the...

Wrecktangle is a pizza oasis from the hustle and bustle of the intersection of Lyn-Lake. While the atmosphere is lively and fun, it seemed like my blood pressure relaxed the moment I stepped inside.

We dined with a group of 7, deftly cared for by our super-server, Asia. (Closed circuit message to Wrecktangle management: Asia is an amazing burst of cheerful pixie-dust energy and a credit to your fine establishment.) With great aplomb she helped seven Wrecktangle rookies make great choices (off what looks like a can't-miss menu). She has a sixth-sense as to when to stop by and take care of everything. She made splitting our bill a snap. Holy cow, I haven't gushed about a server like this in a long time, but doggone it, she's worth the words. She ushered our night out from "good" to "great".

Asia was a pleasant preamble to some prodigious pizza. In an attempt to differentiate themselves in the market, many pizza places churn out experimental pies that are barely recognizable as the original art form. Wrecktangle dexterously dances on the rim of the volcano, delivering new and unique flavor combinations (and some remarkable classics) and still can be recognized as "pizza". We ordered the Supreme, the Freeway (Brisket! On a pizza!) and the Breakfast Pizza, which is truly something unexpectedly special. There were times our boisterous table of seven was speechless... 'cause we were all MMMmmmmMMMM'ing through shared pies.

We'll definitely be back. So many more tantalizing tastes to try. Keep up the good work, Wrecktangle.

UPDATE: My group has been back for three consecutive weeks. Asia continues to hit home runs out of the service park. (Seriously, she might be worth a visit all by herself!). We’ve made a point of working our way through all of the specialty pizzas on the menu. Not a stinker in the bunch. I’ve been personally bragging this place up to my friends and coworkers, so you’ve got to know that means it is something special.

5-stars...

Honestly this place is insane. There is so much potential but there are a couple completely baffling decisions that really just ruin it completely. First let’s be clear, the pizza tastes pretty great. Their cocktails are also pretty good. The staff was polite and efficient, 10/10 for me. That’s where the praise ends though. The main issue is the price. I went on “Margherita Margarita Monday” where they had discounted pizzas and cocktails. Even WITH the discount I still paid around $30 for a teeny tiny little pizza and a drink. It is GENUINELY unbelievable how expensive this place is. On top of that, a cup of sauce to dip your pizza in is TWO DOLLARS. That is almost three times as much as other places charge, if they even charge at all. And it’s certainly not homemade sauce. Their hot sauce is Crybaby Craig’s and their “ranch” is sour cream with a spice packet in it. Which brings me to another complaint: who told these people that sour cream plus spices equals ranch? I don’t know anyone alive who prefers the sour cream based “ranch”, ESPECIALLY not with pizza. And don’t worry, there is ZERO indication that the ranch is this way, so the unsuspecting customer will order it, taste it, gag audibly, and then be charged two dollars for it. All in all it is so baffling to me that this potential is wasted. I spent an exorbitant amount of money for decent food and then still got hit with the 20%-25%-30% tip begging AND a 5% “health and wellness” fee. Genuinely insane that the inflated prices of the food don’t already cover the wages of the employees that the ownership clearly refuses to actually pay. Such a nice place and such a nice location and pretty good pizza is ultimately squandered at such ridiculous prices. I will not...