3 minute read
Connell Sanders
CONNELL SANDERS
Who are you, Frankie? Big slices, bigger mystery
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SARAH CONNELL SANDERS
Itry to stay on top of the food scene in Worcester, but I can’t take credit for this one. Frankie’s friended my husband on Facebook, Friday afternoon. They had plenty of mutual connections and there was a certain amount of credibility in Frankie’s business URL: www.worcestersbestpizza.com.
“Ever heard of this place on Providence Street?” my husband asked me. I hadn’t, but we decided to give it a shot for dinner. He accepted the request and placed an order.
My husband arrived home later than expected, carrying a pizza box the size of our coffee table. “I ordered a large,” he said, “I guess I couldn’t picture how big twenty-four-inches was until it came out of the oven.”
We didn’t bother with plates. We pulled the massive slices straight from the cardboard, letting oil and juices drip down our fingers as we shoveled melted cheese into our hungry little mouths. The dog lost his mind. I was transported to a different time and place entirely — the year 2008, 2 a.m., Fordham Road in the Bronx. We used to say there were four meals a day in college: breakfast, lunch, dinner and pizza. Finally, I remembered why.
Who are you Frankie? Where did you come from? How did you know who to friend on social media, because I know my husband wasn’t your only target. Was it luck?
The moment I posted a picture of the pie to my Instagram story, the messages rolled in. Everyone around me seemed to be aware of Frankie’s, but no one had the scoop. Had Frankie’s been manifested in the dead of night, under a waxing crescent moon? Sort of.
Based on Frankie’s posts and the experiences of friends who visited his shop over the weekend, here’s what I have gathered:
Frankie likes to sing and shout his feelings while tossing dough high up into the air. His hair is long; he favors stocking caps and the occasional fedora. Until recently, he ran a pizza shop in Colorado. On Frankie’s cross country road trip to Worcester, his appendix burst and he had to have emergency surgery in Indianapolis. Somewhere along the way, he adopted a Dalmatian puppy, a gift for his daughter. He loves Michael Jordan. The shop opened in late January at 90 Providence St., and although the sign from outside reads “A&C Pizza,” it is indeed I Love Frankie’s on the inside. Last weekend, Frankie’s sold 100 of their 24-inch pies. “You guys are relentless … thank you,” @i_lovefrankies posted on Feb. 9.
There’s something refreshing about Frankie’s lack of standard social media strategy. The account handles are all over the place, at times getting jumbled with the owner’s former business — 3 Guys Pies out of Denver. The use of an emoji in the name “I Love Frankie’s” and an on-again, off-again attitude toward apostrophes intrigues me. Frankie’s is intense, aloof, mysterious.
A post from Frankie’s in January cites the Law of Attraction, a popular new-age philosophy that claims positive thoughts can bring positive consequences in a person’s life. Frankie claims to have picked up a job application from a Worcester pizza shop a few years back with the intention of working his way up. According to the caption, life kept him in Colorado for much longer than expected. When he got back to Worcester in August of 2020, the very pizzeria where he had asked for a job application was now up for sale.
“The law of attraction has never been more electric in my life than it is right now,” Frankie writes, “I’m literally bawling my eyes out in my car right now, sitting in front of the pizzeria — Worcester, Massachusetts ... I’m inside you.”
Keep drinking that moon water and activating those crystals, Frankie. You just manifested yourself some free press. Now, tell us the whole story.
A mysterious new pizza shop, I Love Frankie’s, opened at 90 Providence Street in late January.
SARAH CONNELL SANDERS
