The Chicagoland Pizzeria, Illinois, Where Lasagna Steals The Show
In the suburbs around Chicago, there’s one pizzeria that quietly broke the rules: here, lasagna claims more applause than even the deep‑dish.
When you walk in, the air hums with garlic, tomato, melting mozzarella. The regulars nod at booth corners, servers call orders by first names, and the menu reads like an Italian street market with a twist.
Below I trace fourteen reasons this place draws fans far and wide, from lasagna served like royalty to multiple Chicagoland branches. Let me take you inside where pasta and pizza both live large.
1. House-Made Lasagna
The baker’s aroma welcomes you before the door opens. Every sheet of pasta here is layered by hand.
This pizzeria insists on in‑house ragù, béchamel, cheeses, layering big enough to cut with effort.
When someone new orders it, the dining room quiets. I once saw a guest pause mid‑forkful, eyes fluttering. The lasagna holds gravity.
2. Lasagna Pizza Slices
It sounds like a gimmick. It’s not. Lasagna pizza is a thick slice topped with ragu, ricotta, mozzarella, and yes, actual lasagna noodles.
The crust holds it all, no sag, no sog. It’s structurally impressive. You take a bite and your jaw rethinks what pizza means.
It gets ordered half-jokingly, but no one laughs after the first bite. There’s always a pause. And then another bite.
3. Neapolitan Margherita
There’s restraint here. A thin crust blistered just enough, tomato that tastes like summer, mozzarella that melts with clarity.
It feels light, but not forgettable. It’s the pizza you order when you don’t want to fight your food—just enjoy it slowly.
The first time I ordered it, it arrived after a lasagna plate. I didn’t expect much. But halfway through, I realized I hadn’t spoken in five minutes.
4. Chicago Pan And Stuffed
The crust rises like architecture: golden, buttery, deep enough to swim in. Inside: rivers of cheese, islands of sausage, tomato like velvet on top.
They offer both pan and stuffed styles, true to their region, generous by design. It’s not light, but that’s the point.
You don’t rush this one. You plan around it. It’s a pizza that arrives with weight, both literal and emotional.
5. Tavern-Style Thin Crust
Crackly, square-cut, edge-to-edge toppings, this is the bar pie that Chicagoans defend with surprising passion.
The crust crunches just enough to hold cheese, sausage, peppers, maybe a little oregano.
It’s the slice you eat with one hand while arguing sports. Light on dough, heavy on nostalgia. It balances the lasagna’s depth with something snappy.
6. Garlic Cheese Bread
It’s golden, gooey, and so fragrant it could lure someone off a diet from across the room.
This bread is toasted just enough for bite, but soft enough to pull. Cheese stretches. Garlic lingers. Marinara waits nearby.
I came in just for a quick slice and left with a garlic bread order, no shame. It sat in the passenger seat like a date. I didn’t make it home.
7. Fried Calamari And Baked Clams
The calamari arrives golden and curled, kissed by lemon, the batter just thick enough to crunch.
Next to it, baked clams in half-shells, herbed, garlicky, breadcrumbed, a little briny. They’re bite-sized odes to the Italian coast.
This isn’t seafood as a novelty. It’s woven into the menu like it belongs, because it does. Order both and feel like you’ve cheated the landlocked zip code.
8. Jumbo Buffalo Wings
These wings come out glazed, hulking, and unapologetically spicy. They’re not an afterthought, they’re part of the lineup.
The buffalo sauce is loud but balanced, and the bleu cheese dressing is thick enough to coat, not drizzle.
Families order them alongside pizza, and they hold their own. You’ll see red sauce on fingers and smiles wide enough to explain it.
9. Baresana Salad And Caprese
Freshness takes center stage with Panino’s Baresana and Caprese salads. The Baresana salad, with its medley of mixed greens, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, and olives, offers a crisp, refreshing bite.
The Caprese salad, featuring creamy mozzarella and ripe tomatoes drizzled with balsamic reduction, adds a touch of Italian flair.
Together, these salads provide a delightful contrast to the hearty mains. They highlight the importance of quality ingredients in creating memorable dishes.
10. Gnocchi And Rigatoni Vodka
The gnocchi are soft, warm, and just chewy enough to fight back. The vodka sauce clings like velvet, rosy, rich, and slightly smoky.
Rigatoni shows up in full armor: thick ridges, firm pasta, sauce filling every hollow. The kind of dish that doesn’t need extra cheese—but gets it anyway.
Some tables split both. Others commit. Either way, the smell alone convinces you you’ve made the right decision.
11. Orecchiette Braciole
Small pasta shaped like ears, catching every drop of red sauce. The braciole? Rolled beef, slow-cooked until a fork makes it sigh apart.
This dish feels older than the menu. Like it came from someone’s Sunday table, passed down without a name, just flavor.
It’s less common, more reverent. You don’t stumble on orecchiette braciole by accident. You order it on purpose.
12. Tiramisu And Cannoli
The tiramisu soaks into itself, layers soft, dusted with cocoa, quietly boozy in the best way. Cannoli come crisp, cold, and filled to bursting.
Some are dipped in chocolate, some powdered, some plain. All are unapologetic in their sweetness.
I told myself I’d just take one bite of the cannoli. That was a lie. I ate the whole thing leaning over the sink like I was hiding from my own self-control.
13. Gelato Pints To Go
The freezer case hums near the register, pints lined like prize bottles, in flavors that rotate with mood and season.
They’re cold insurance against regret. You grab one knowing full well dessert already happened, but future-you will need it.
Families grab chocolate and pistachio. You might whisper “this is for the ride home” and dig in before the receipt is printed.
14. Multiple Chicagoland Locations
You’ll find them scattered across the suburbs, familiar menus, familiar faces, familiar smell.
The consistency is the magic trick: same lasagna, same stuffed crust, same warm bread in every neighborhood.
Regulars call the one near them “their” location. First-timers just call it lucky.