Lansky's Pizza Pasta & Philly Steaks

4601 S 50th St (at L St) 

402-731-1919 — put this one on speed dial (people still do that)

Open daily 11am – 9pm or something 

Plus locations in Bellevue and Council Bluffs

lanskys.biz 

Sleek font, sloppy food

Imagine waking up in a parallel universe, where animals can talk, the cab company doesn't suck, and your neighbors champion really disgusting foods. For one of those scenarios, you don't have to imagine anymore — you can just go to Lansky's. 

We were bumbling around near 50th and L when hunger struck and a quick consultation with the smartphone (93% on Urbanspoon!) ultimately pivoted the car into the parking lot. At first, it seemed Lansky's had the makings of something good. The awkward layout and quaint-yet-hideous interior all pointed to the idea that the food's too good to be bothered with atmosphere. A sign at the translucent iceberg lettuce salad bar read, "One trip only, please." I felt that was legitimate, that the owners are too busy quietly turning out Omaha's best pizza to be bogged down by unnecessary salad costs. The aroma of the place even reminded me of the neighborhood pizza joints I terrorized as an adolescent. (The reader has been reminded that I grew up on the East Coast and am therefore an absolute authority on most things, including all types of pizza.) Tables started to file in with subdued excitement, placing their orders at the counter and then plopping down on the salmon-colored padded chairs, sipping from styrofoam cups and chatting about all the joys and hardships of being a South Central Omahan while nonchalantly waiting to have their minds blown by the best food on the planet. 

No, I don't do food styling: the Philly cheesesteak with wayward onions and peppers

But no. Just, no. With the food on the table, and the shock of its appearance faded ("It could still be good!" I screamed in my head), we dug in, only to be met with hopelessly poor quality — it was in-your-face cheap. The Philly cheesesteak bun tasted like a knockoff of something you'd find at a church spaghetti dinner, and as a whole, the sandwich had an off-putting flavor; I think the mass-produced "American Swiss cheese" was the culprit.

Then there was the pizza. Piled with pounds of tasteless cheese and pepperoni, the spongy crust was the color of pasty legs in winter.  I thought it might just be undercooked, but it became clearer and clearer that another few minutes in the oven wouldn't have done much for this heap of shitty ingredients. In one final attempt to reconcile my hunger, I pulled back the inch-thick inedible layer of toppings and pushed it to the side, folded the white, doughy, sponge square in half while it oozed yellow oily matter, and gulped it down. I cursed myself for not stopping at Casey's General Store instead. I thought about the last time I had DiGiorno, and how it's only $4.99 for a pie. I wondered why I put myself through this. 

The pepperoni pie:
It's true I loathe the party cut and toppings under cheese,
but what I loathe more than anything is a bunch of Sysco-sourced ingredients masquerading as something good.
I'd say it's more in line with school cafeteria quality, but I wouldn't want any children eating this.

By now we all know the internet is riddled with untruths. But studying the restaurant's red hot glowing diner reviews online is more than puzzling. It makes me feel like there's something wrong with me. If this is it, then what am I doing? Why am I here? What's the point? Am I trapped in a dystopian novel? 

The way people feel about Lansky's makes me think it's me against the world.  

Iowa State Fair 2012

August 9th - 19th, 7a.m. - 1a.m.
Iowa State Fairgrounds, Des Moines
iowastatefair.org

Cindy's Place, one of the many food stands,
offers "complete meals" of french fries and nachos to famished fair goers. 

Talk about a sensory overload. There's nothing quite like chowing on a lamb kebob while walking through a sheep barn, tasting the gamey deliciousness while smelling the poo and watching the wool being shorn.

Unlike a lot of outdoor summer events, the food here isn't just an afterthought meant to feed the crowds, should they rustle up a hunger while watching some crappy band or some fat dude swing a bat. The food at the Iowa State Fair is the main attraction. Granted, if I was the proud owner of the biggest boar in the state, I might beg to differ. But strolling past the stalls of mostly sedated livestock, all this city slicker could think was, "Where's the deep-fried butter?"

In the end, we went with this hunk of fried mac & cheese in lieu of the butter stick.
A bunch of pussies, the lot of us, I know.
Breading could have used a little more, err, seasoning.

Here you have the highlight, German Chocolate Funnel Cake,
complete with coconut cream goo, crushed pecans, and deep-fried chocolate batter.
Warm and fuzzy feeling that followed was undoubtedly the sensation of insulin production. 

This cheesesteak, ahem, Philly, was legit:
Fashioned from the mound of sizzling, chopped meat on the flat top grill,
topped with greasy onions and peppers and coated in a generous layer of Cheez-wiz. Real deal. 

Lamb brat, lamb breakfast sausage on a stick, and lamb kebob,
for sale right outside of the sheep barn.

Shorn sheep are very fashionable.

Strange, I don't remember seeing anything with horse meat on a stick?

It was only a matter of time before we hit the Iowa Craft Beer Tent.
Here's a delicious Slingshot Dunkel from Coralville's Backpocket Brewing Company. 

Beef and bean taco in a homemade crunchy corn tortilla,
just like someone's grandma used to make. 

If you've never had this, you probably don't have to.

Apple cider donettes, hot off the doughnut press.

I don't really like apples, but this one was damn good.

Doesn't look like much, but this if you examine closely you'll see Iowa's Blue Ribbon corn,
guarded by several rows of barricades. 

The Butter Cow:
A cow sculpted out of butter.
Making mouths water since 1911.

A cornbrat -- It was at this point my burps started smelling really weird.

Dude, stop hitting on the Pork Queen and get back to grilling your loins.
Her majesty is totally out of your league.

This life-sized, 850-pounder gives a whole new meaning to the term "Chocolate Moose."

"Iowa's Best Pizza" contenders rolling into the judging site. Umm. Yeah.

We came armed with plastic forks in our back pockets, a humble brigade of curious calorie hoarders. At first I thought we left victorious, but on the way home, I got methane poisoning from all the cow farts. Or maybe it was Veep candidate Paul Ryan's stupid checkered shirt and retarded remarks that nauseated me. It definitely had nothing to do with the amalgam of foodstuffs in my tummy.

If you can, do as 100,000 others do (daily) and hit up the Fair before it closes up this Sunday the 19th. As they say, it's "fairlicious."

But of course.

King Kong

4409 Dodge Street
Omaha, NE 68131
(402) 553-3326
Plus other locations in Omaha and Lincoln, open late
www.kingkongfastfood.com

While cruising around looking for a munch at 10pm and trying to avoid places with a dollar menu, I stopped at KK hoping to see a fight or robbery or some other disturbance. But no. The cops were just pigging out.

I went in already knowing my order from checking the menu online. My Chicken Philly with onions almost became a regular Philly with peppers until I caught the slab of beef being thrown on the grill. At that point I felt compelled to confirm my entire order with the glassy-eyed lad behind the counter. He cockily assured me. What I found when I uncovered the styrofoam at home I can only attribute to a straight up language barrier. My "small Greek salad" somehow became a "kids Gyro with fries," and my requested side of mayo was absent. The Chicken Philly was excessively salty to the point where the cheese was completely drowned out, but I have to hand it to them, the way they chop it up is the closest thing to what you'd find in the City of Brotherly Shove. The fries seem like they're dredged in flour; they're tasty, but hefty and over-processed. At $15 for the above meal, this place will keep me out of late night local businesses and in the drive thru lane, unfortunately.

Sorry, no pics. My hand was too shaky with anger over my messed up order to hold a camera. If you've had a better experience there, tell us about it!

Godfather doesn't know best

Raised on cheesesteaks and pizza, I've eaten my way up the East Coast, and then over to Europe for a couple of years. Now I live in Omaha, Nebraska. There's some great food here; it's the home of the Reuben, after all. But you kind of have to sift through the not-so-good stuff. Native Omahans think Godfather's Pizza--a chain headquartered here--is good, and I think it's inedible, for example. The point of all this will be to share my thoughts on the local food, from hole-in-the-wall taquerias to fancy restaurants. This city has more restaurants per capita than any other in the country, btw. They can't all be good. I want to find the best of the best and share it with you.