67. Adagio’s Pizza Factory

New Brighton, Minnesota

The crust was too thick and the sauce a little on the sweet side, but this is a nice room. Sometimes an evening of dining is not just about the food (even pizza) and surprisingly, all the other intangibles assume the leading role.

For some reason, I have a soft spot for family-run, strip mall pizza places.

I chose the photo for this essay to purposely highlight the unspectacular harmony of places like Adagio’s: an under-designed exterior with a kitchen-table approach to branding. It’s so perfectly unassuming that I’m drawn to it like a loose mule in a corn patch.

A while back, I rightfully ridiculed Pizza Hut’s modern marketing because it so strongly insinuates complete compliance and uniformity to a directive most likely hatched from a corporate office complex, which is tremendously valuable—if you’re a shareholder. Adagio’s is having none of that, and I respect them for it. Look closely, and you’ll see two different illuminated logo signs that don’t match in style, font, or color. As a professional “creative” it goes against everything I strive to achieve in my chosen vocation and yet, as a consumer, it tells me that this place is focused solely on the product. So in the end, their recipe didn’t blend perfectly to my tastes. In fact, I would compare it equally with some of the franchises I just poked. But toss in the proper mix of wood-paneling, oldies radio, fiberglass bench seating, and acres of free parking, and well…it’s a pretty good pizza night.