Whether you say "getting there is half the fun", "it's not the kill, it's the thrill of the chase", or "life's a journey, not a destination", you're at best a liar, and at worst, Steven Tyler. Getting you directly to Boot-style fatness, Little Italy
Situated conveniently just above the South Philly border in the former ChriStevens storefront, Little's a pizza & pasta-driven spot helmed by two Spasso gents, with four outdoor tables, take-out friendly counter service and a 10-table dining area with a deep brown tile floor, muted orange walls, and a monstrous, wrought iron-sculpture-bookended plasma. From-scratch, hand-tossed thin crusts range from the light Margarita, to a Meat Lovers packed with pepperoni, sausage, ham, meatballs, and bacon, to the obligatory Philly Special with steak, fried onions, peppers, mushrooms, and American cheese (sometimes too much authenticity whiz gross). Pastas include spaghetti, penne, gnocchi, fettuccini, and linguini in sauces from Alfredo and tomato to vodka and aglio olio, plus baked specialties like ravioli, stuffed shells, and ziti; there's also a grip of Ital-rolled chicken sandwiches (Scallopini, Marsala, Francese) and grilled ciabatta numbers stacked with everything from capicolla, roasted peppers, and sharp provolone, to prosciutto, spinach, and broccoli -- a bold effort to stow two childhood nemeses inside a piggy Trojan sandwich.
BYOB for now, Little lacks a liquor license, but they're mere blocks from a hooch store -- polish off a bottle o' something, and your boozy staggerings will have you Livin' on the Edge.