When it comes to rating Chicago deep dish pizza, customers invariably point to the ingredients.
Cheese gooey-ness, sauce thickness, crust firmness and quantity of toppings are frequently mentioned in online reviews or in conversations with visitors and fellow Chicagoans alike.
But if you’re Camille “Pearl” Matuszewski, the key ingredient is loyalty.
Matuszewki, one month shy of her 76th birthday, has been getting her deep dish pizza fix at Pizzeria Due since 1967. When Matuszewski — who goes by her middle name Pearl because “it’s the shortest of my names” — first entered Due at 619 N. Wabash, Richard Nixon had yet to launch his second presidential campaign, The Beatles were singing about a fictional bandleader named Sergeant Pepper, and Martin Luther King Jr. was urging people of all races to peacefully protest civil rights violations.
In today’s social media-addled world, Chicago’s hottest pizza establishment is most likely the one garnering the most “likes” on Instagram. That is, until another pizzeria comes along and produces more. Pearl has neither the time nor inclination to sample the competition. Her 42-year career as a massage therapist is proof that there is no need to abandon, or even tinker with, something you love.
“I didn’t even think I’d be alive in 2025,” said Pearl, who can’t estimate how many slices of deep dish have passed her lips. She just knows she’s been hooked on Due’s recipe since wandering into the renovated brownstone with her cousin, Sally, picking up some deep dish and sharing it with Sally’s fellow employees at the Time-Life building. Until then, she’d only tried Chicago’s thin crust alternative, known throughout the city as “tavern-style” pizza.
“It was greasy cheese with balls of sausage and tasted horrible,” she recalls.
Don’t Cross the Pizza “CEO”
Having lunch with Due’s most loyal customer is akin to dining with the restaurant’s CEO, which is how Pearl playfully refers to herself.
“I’m the Chief Eating Operator,” she says.
Due’s Marketing Director Chris Dellamarggio called Pearl a beloved customer but said her devotion to the brand is not overly unique.
“We have thousands of folks who have called Uno and Due their favorite pizza for decades,” he said. It’s about a great product and treating people like family.”
On a recent visit, Pearl waltzed directly into the kitchen to greet her “family” and ensure her signature order was being prepared to her specifications. That means the Numero Uno individual pizza with no cheese (“it bothers my sinuses”), sausage, pepperoni, and extra onions, green peppers, black olives, garlic and mushrooms.
“And burn the crust,” she says.
Slow Down, Stop and Eat Pizza
Pearl’s loyalty has literally made her a walking billboard for Pizzeria Due, which opened in 1955, twelve years after founder Ike Sewell launched Pizzeria Uno, a block south. A second restaurant was needed to accommodate Uno’s overflow crowds. When Due celebrated its 70th birthday last month, Pearl was there, working the room and dancing with strangers, including this columnist, as a Frank Sinatra impersonator warbled “My Kind of Town.”
When Due management decided to reward struggling cab drivers with free pizza slices, Pearl grabbed a blow-up decorative pizza slice and stood on Ontario Street, inviting cabbies to stop and receive some deep dish nourishment. Despite living four miles from Due, she remains a regular customer; although, her visits are down significantly from the thrice weekly forays she’s made in earlier years. She stays in touch with former employees who’ve departed Due for warmer climates and always includes a stop at her favorite haunt when friends visit Chicago.
“I’ve tried other pizza places with an open mind and an open mouth,” she said. “It’s just not as good.”
She hopes to someday be the voice of a commercial jingle for the restaurant. She’s already written a few lines and recorded them on her phone. If it doesn’t happen, she’s content knowing she has found a home away from the home she first entered 58 years ago.
All you new restaurateurs take note: If you want a customer to return to your place in 2083, and ask for the same meal, it may take more than a social media presence.
