The calzone is something like a gourmet Hot Pocket, and it
is all the new eatery Lovshack, located at 555 State St., cares about. Well,
that and exploiting the mysterious relationship between calzones and sex. The
menu boasts 30 different calzones, many of which have obscure names, such as
"Eddymofo's B-fest," "Happy Trail" and "Hoots." Included are several dessert
calzones, nine dipping sauces and five salads for the boring friend in your
group.

A calzone by any other name…

The quality of the calzones here is as varied as their
fillings. I personally went for the "Sixty-Nine," featuring grilled chicken,
broccoli, and mozzarella, parmesan and ricotta cheeses. While my calzone was
nothing short of fantastic, others in my party left rather disheartened. One
companion ordered a "Where the Figawi?" only to find that the "steak"
supposedly inside was actually roast beef. Another guest tried the steak and
cheese calzone, which had considerably less filling than anyone else's, and for
which the workers said there was nothing they could do.

Every calzone on the menu is $6.25, a price that seems
slightly high for the portion sizes, especially when Chipotle across the way
will give you a burrito as big as your head for a little bit less.

A place to get together?

Walking into Lovshack is either exciting or intimidating,
depending on your perspective. In my experience, many of the dingiest places
have the best specialty foods, and Lovshack does not pretend to be a classy
joint. With random decor that appears to have been accumulated via dumpster
diving adventures as well as a juvenile fascination with sex, Lovshack can be
an uncomfortable place to find yourself in. There's a sign reading "SEX" on the
wall, and one of the dessert calzones is dubbed the "Oh God Yes, Yes." Though
this is all good fun, most George Webbs are cleaner than this place, and this
one is brand new.

Service, or lack thereof

The true problem with Lovshack is that it doesn't put much
emphasis on servicing its clientele. First, the workers tried several times to
give our calzones to the wrong customers. Then, when one guest's calzone had
significantly less filling than the rest, they essentially shrugged and said
there was nothing they could do. Some of us were asked if we wanted dipping
sauces and some were not. And when I asked why the establishment insisted on
spelling its name wrong, I was ignored and remained confused. I chose not to
even ask what they thought calzones had to do with sex.

Given Lovshack's locale, trailer park furnishings and late
hours — they're open until 4 a.m. every day — it seems most likely that
Lovshack wants to cater to the late-night drunkards who will ignore the high
prices and lack of customer service because they want something delicious in
their stomachs. And if that is the aim, Lovshack will likely be around for a
while.