From the South Florida Sun-Sentinel

City Link's Best of 2006

October 18 2006

It never fails. Every time City Link publishes one of these Best Of issues -- this here is the 12th -- I receive a phone call from someone who thinks I'm the dumbest son of a bitch ever to walk the planet. Surprisingly, the caller is not a relative but a reader, usually an exceptionally angry reader who believes this magazine has committed one of the greatest injustices this side of the genocide in Darfur. That injustice? Not awarding the title of Best Pizza to this person's favorite restaurant.

I've worked on or edited 10 City Link Best Of issues and have fielded at least as many of these calls. Besides insulting my intelligence, or lack thereof, some said nasty things about my mother, while one told me I wasn't ever welcome to visit New York, where apparently, sainted gnomes bake pizzas using ingredients flown across the Atlantic on the wings of immortal Italian cherubs. No call, however, beats the one I received last year from a man who sounded like a tuberculous cross between Sylvester Stallone and the dad on Everybody Loves Raymond. Best as I can recall, part of our conversation went as follows:

Him: You don't know shit about shit.

Me: Buddy, I grew up in Davie. I know plenty about shit.

Him: Well, you don't know shit about pizza.

Me: I won't argue with you there. I'm allergic to dairy; therefore, I'm allergic to pizza.

Him: Then how the hell could you say [City Link's Best Pizza winner] serves the best pizza in South Florida?

Me: Well, I didn't pick that place, one of my writers did.

Him: Which writer?

Me: I don't remember. The one who knows shit about pizza, I think.

Him: Listen, wise guy, if you and your know-it-all writer ever decide to remove your heads from your asses and want to taste the best New York-style pizza in South Florida, then you'll go to [someplace in Palm Beach County where apparently … well, the gnomes and the cherubs and all that].

Me: Let me make sure I heard you right: We should remove our heads from our asses before eating this pizza, correct?

At that, he cursed my mother, made some kind of gargling sound and hung up.

I share this exchange not to show off my powerful debating skills or any such nonsense, but to illustrate how passionately people feel about their favorite things in South Florida, from pizzerias to club DJs to sports bars to strip clubs. We understand that passion; many members of our staff were born and raised in South Florida, and even those who weren't have lived here long enough to know it better than they know themselves. That passion and depth of knowledge fuels the Best Of issue, and even we don't all agree on each and every winner. (Nobody here ever agrees with me that the Best Place To Get Married is at the business end of a shotgun. Since I work with a bunch of romantics, we once again selected a place where couples actually choose to get wed. See page 65.)

The Best Of is intended not only to recognize some of South Florida's greatest assets but also to spark conversations, among the City Link staff, among you and your friends, and particularly between you and us. So whether you agree with this year's picks or so vehemently disagree with them that you would like to see us shipped off to Gitmo, let us know. I guarantee at least 75 percent of you believe you could have selected better restaurants than the ones we recognized for serving the Best Pizza and Best Pizza by the Slice. You can find both winners on page 85, and you can call me any time between the hours of 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. at 954/356-4941 to complain about them. Feel free to say whatever you want about me and my ant-size brain. I can take it. Just leave my mother out of it.

Jake Cline

Editor