Growing Up A Mok: CiCi's

Whenever I'm with a group of people who can't decide where to go for their next meal, I typically suggest CiCi's.  But the idea is almost always immediately vetoed, and I'm left wondering why with tears streaming down my face

For those living under a rock, CiCi's is an all-you-can-eat pizza joint that has somehow developed a bad rep.  They serve other stuff too, like salads and soups and pastas, but only weird people put that stuff on their plates.  Going to CiCi's and eating something other than pizza is like... going to a pizza joint and eating something other than pizza.  There's absolutely no justification.

But I'm biased towards CiCi's, of course.  I grew up on that glorious buffet line.  You can ask my sister or brother -- if we heard we were going out to eat, we would get hyped... until we'd ask my dad where we were headed, and his response would predictably be the same.

"Chinese restaurant."

We'd wail and we'd whine, but an hour later, we'd be spinning a lazy Susan at one of three restaurants our family would cycle through.  It got to a point where my brother hated Chinese food.  Actually, maybe he still does, and that's why he lives in Chicago now.

Then my parents discovered CiCi's.  And everything changed.

I'm still not sure how it happened.  I'm guessing they caught a fateful CiCi's TV commercial that detailed the kids' special price of $1.99, and their eyes naturally lit up like a Christmas tree.

That tiny human price was supposed to cover children ages 10 and younger, so my parents snuck us all in there with a slouch until we were at least 12, possibly even 13.  I specifically remember the cashier giving me some side-eye one of the final times my parents risked getting blacklisted from the greatest pizza place in the world, but what were his options?  Was he gonna card me?  Ask my parents for a birth certificate?

Another time I was so anxious to burst into the restaurant that I exited the car a couple seconds prior to my dad pulling into the parking spot.  But my dad was also so anxious to burst into the restaurant that he didn't register my calls of distress after he had parked the car on my foot.  He was halfway to the entrance before he finally understood my screams.

Aside from the bargain basement cost of entry, let's talk about the pizza for a second.  They offer a plethora of options sitting out ready for consumption; from the classics (cheese, pepperoni, sausage) to the specialties (taco, barbecue, chocolate), there's a flavor for every type of palate.

You know that feeling when you pay for one package of Reese's peanut butter cups from a vending machine but two drop down?  This part is kinda like that.  Not only is CiCi's already scrumptious with the endless supply of pizza, but they will build and cook you ANY PIZZA YOUR HEART DESIRES.

I thought there was a catch at first.  But next thing I knew, my mom had ordered a spinach and pineapple pizza, and our lives were never the same.

You can hate on CiCi's all you want, but one thing is undeniable: nobody makes a better spinach pizza.  It may sound bizarre, but add pineapples to it, and your taste buds will do a happy dance.  As I've grown older, I've added Italian sausage to the mix, so now every food group is covered.

But some things don't change, like my habit of piling up the uneaten pizza crusts like carb-loaded trophies in order to keep count of how many slices I've scarfed down.  Every visit to this legendary restaurant has a built-in eating contest added to the experience.

And perhaps now you understand why it's 2016 and my siblings and I are still celebrating birthdays and anniversaries and other momentous occasions at CiCi's.  And perhaps still sneaking Sprite into the water cups.