Start walking southwest from Camp Randall and you’ll notice the pavement beneath your feet is uneven and rustic, as though it arose organically out of the ground. Your mind will wander over the decorative shop fronts of a locally-owned Oriental rug store and a stately wine cave…wait, is that a Trader Joe’s underneath an apartment building? What’s going on? Why is that sign in Italian? Phrases like “Quisiera postre” and “?? squisito!” swirl in your mind as you start to whistle a tune from Bolivian pop group Los Kjarkas…which can’t be right, because you’ve never even heard of Bolivian pop group Los Kjarkas!

You can only be in one place: Monroe Street. University of Wisconsin students and neighborhood planning council members alike flock to this cultural mecca to partake in the sheer variety of ethnic food available.

From roti bread at Taste of India to moules frites (a Belgian dish consisting of French fries with mussels) at jacs to The Scrambler (an all-American, hangover-obliterating egg-and-potato explosion) at Mickies Dairy Bar, your palate can make an Epcot-like span of the globe in the 1.5 mile stretch that is Monroe Street cuisine.

To start off with something semi-familiar, head to Pasqual’s for some Tex-Mex. Although you order and pay for your food at the front counter, the similarities to Taco Bell stop there. From the stucco walls to soft mariachi music to wood-burned images of Kokopelli and coyotes on the tables, Pasqual’s is all about the southwestern-infused details.

As for the food, the Cowboy Fajita Burrito – smoky steak, savory red chile sauce and gooey cheese – is a melt-in-your-mouth celebration of southwestern indulgence. But beware – if you go to Pasqual’s, you must order the bolder, meatier dishes they do best. If you don’t, you might find yourself saddled with a half-hearted taco salad redolent of Pasqual’s two persistent vices: too wet, with too many onions.

After stuffing yourself loco, head across the street to a grocery store that is less an errand than it is a social gathering place: Trader Joe’s. Located under a posh apartment building, Trader Joe’s boasts covered parking and a gourmet food pedigree.

But don’t let the witty, plant-based packaging scare you – here “organic” does not necessarily translate to “expensive,” and Trader Joe’s can often match or even beat your average Copp’s prices. While Trader Joe’s brand food itself tends to be bland and anticlimactic, I have a feeling the store is less about taste control than it is about quality control and the promotion of earth-friendly eats. Ah, a grocery store after Madison’s own heart.

After leaving the grocery store, the intoxicating smell of fresh pizza will waft up the street. You’ll follow it, half expecting to arrive at a brick alley somewhere in Naples. Instead you’ll find Pizza Brutta, an Italian restaurant specializing in thin, authentic Neopolitan-style pizzas.

When you walk in, the very first thing that captures your attention is the sharp, tantalizing smell of garlic and San Marzano tomato pizza sauce. In the back, white-clad chefs move around easily in their cooking space, at home and on display to the clean, spacious, dark wood dining room as they roll dough, spread sauce, garnish and slip pie after pie into a giant flaming wood oven.

The menu, like the d?cor, is simple: one list of pizza bianco, one list of pizza rosso and a build-your-own pie section. The salad and sandwiches are shoved into the back of the menu like an afterthought, which is their way of saying, if you come to Pizza Brutta, you better get pizza.

The basic margherita pizza (red sauce, bufala mozzarella, parmesan and basil) is a delicate Italian miracle. The sauce yields a rich explosion of tomatoes and garlic with every bite. For a second you can almost believe the tomatoes were shipped straight over from Italy – which, as it happens, they were.

The cheese is fresh, perfectly stretchy and mild, and the basil provides a hint of smoky herbs the way only fresh, whole basil leaves can. The crust – certified organic from North Dakota – is thin, pliable and soft with a gently browned (and in some places, blackened) crackly outer shell. Because Pizza Brutta keeps its ovens so hot, the blackened crust can sometimes overpower the other flavors, but for the most part it remains a peppery, harmonious accent.

Add in some meat – curled-up pockets of salty pepperoni or succulent pink discs of salami – to the mix, and your eyes just may roll back in your head with pleasure. I could praise these pizzas forever, but suffice to say Pizza Brutta soundly restored my faith in the integrity of the American pizza industry.

Thank you, Pizza Brutta, and thank you, Monroe Street. The citizens of Madison owe you one.

Side Dish: 

• The whoopie pie battle continues. 
• Hanging out at the grocery store?
• Think your textbooks are heavy? Check out a slide show of this 6-volume, 40 lb. cookbook.
• The Huffington Post dishes on the best burgers in the U.S.
• This just in: veggie burgers are no longer nasty.

Sam Stepp is a junior majoring in journalism. Email recipes, suggestions, or comments to [email protected].