Hot Tomato Pizza

Rolled into Hot Tomato solo, close to closing, expecting to feel awkward—pizza joints like this usually buzz with big energy. But instead? No weird vibes. No rush. Just reggae low in the background. I got the cheese slice—because if you can’t get that right, what are we even doing? They got it right. Chewy crust, sauce that tastes like someone gave a damn, and cheese that’s rich, melty, and exactly what I was hoping for. The staff? Not fake-friendly—just cool. Like they rode all day, then strolled into the kitchen still sun-warmed and smiling. Fast, easygoing, and genuinely kind. The kind of people who’d help you fix a flat and hand you a slice. Hot Tomato’s not trying to impress anyone. That’s exactly why it does.