Chicago's Own Pizzera

This is the last place on Earth to taste Chicago-style pizza in Chicago. Chicago’s Own looks like your standard restaurant, with bars on the bulletproof windows, an upstairs apartment with armored shutters, and razorwire on the roof. The greenhouse out back is a trap; the actual business of growing things happens with sun lamps in the basement. There’s no AR ads, but you can smell it all the way down the block in South Milwaukee.
The owner, Ames, grows her own vegetables and herbs, and makes her own sausages. That’s probably the biggest problem with the local residents: Ames buys pigs from the ghouls. She won’t take raw meat from them, so she has to do all the slaughtering herself. The end product is a pizzalover’s dream: a light, buttery crust (beer batter is a favorite alternate), real crushed tomatoes, fresh garlic, bell peppers, onions, and that sausage … mmm. Chicago’s Own generally accepts nuyen (that reminds me: you pay first and then eat), mainly because that’s what the tourist crowd from South Milwaukee uses. Of course, barter is acceptable for locals.