So on a Saturday afternoon, we’re heading back from Rome (after visiting our youngest at Berry) and approaching dinner time. If you’ve ever driven from metropolitan Rome to metropolitan Douglasville, you know that the towns through which you pass (Aragon, Yorkville and Rockmart) are not known as culinary Meccas. In fact, the only non-chains once you leave Rome (when we realized we were hungry) and home are the Steak House, a couple of Mexican restaurants and the Pizza Farm. I gave the choice to my beloved and she decided that this was the night we would try the Pizza Farm.
Pizza Farm has been open, basically in a pasture, in Rockmart since 1972. They open at 4:30 on Saturday, a fact that we realized when we arrived at 4:10 and the front door was locked. So we circled town (twice), got back at 4:20 and waited ten minutes (along with several pickup trucks in the parking lot) for them to open.
The most shocking thing about Pizza Farm is the expansive menu – pizza, chicken, steak, burgers, sandwiches and salads.
The pizzas were perfectly fine (I’d leave off the bacon next time) and of enough size to fill you, provided you had an appetizer or salad. We had neither, so we were forced <g> to consider dessert.
It was more of a “crazy cobbler” cooked in a small bowl and was the best thing that we had. The bowl was licked clean. And, as a bonus, as we left Jo picked out a dozen fresh eggs from the basket for sale by the register, which had been lain that morning.