Barnabys

The famous sign out front

It's sad, it's really sad.  But Barnaby's in Schaumburg is closing it's doors.  Barnaby's is a fine family establishment, and has been in business for 32 years.  I have been a customer for 28.  Barnaby's holds fond memories and great food.  They specialize in pizza.  Opposite of Chicago style, and by far the thinnest pizza I have tasted.  As you enter the restaurant, your eyes have to adjust to the dark, dungeon like atmosphere.  There isn't a window in the place.  You choose your seat and decide what to order.  Once the decision is made, at least in my case, mom would go order the food, and my dad would go order the drinks.  Two separate lines that would always confuse a first timer to the restaurant. After ordering you sit and wait for your number to be called to pick up the food.  I am always a fan of restaurants in which I don't have to tip anyone because I do all the work!  

When I say dungeon like, the lights fit the description.

While waiting for the main entree of pizza, you eat appetizers, watch TV, write letters to Andrea on the back of menus, poke at your siblings, mosey over to the juke box, and do your best as your salivary glands pump out saliva due to the smell of this thin crust pizza.

The memories that this place holds are not only about food.  They are about family.  We used to go with my grand parents on Sundays.  While the rest of us ate pizza, my grandpa would happily order spaghetti and garlic bread.  He loved it and was so happy, and it involved him going up to the salad bar, and allowing me to help him fill his plate.  I am reminded of my brother playing games with me on the back of the menu, hang man, tic tac toe, and connect the dots.  I am reminded of my parents arguing about what to get on the pizza, even though they get the same exact thing each and every time.  There is an area with a window where you can watch the guys make pizza.  Most of my time as a child was spent there, struggling on my tippy toes to see thru the window as they put on a show tossing the dough up in the air and running it thru that machine that makes it flat.  It left me mesmerized.  

And finally right before leaving as you prepare for the sun to stab your eyes again, there is a juke box by the door.  On the side ( and not everyone knows this ) is a small hole, where people's change used to come out.  Those putting in their money were not always aware of this hole.  And like clock work, on my way out, I would always stick my finger in the hole to see if there were any coins.  If there was a quarter, I hit it big.  You better believe I stuck my finger in that juke box one last time.