We have no shortage of pizza in Portland.  From the plethora of pies from Otto ovens all over Greater Portland to the appeal of the big blocks of luscious pies at Slab and lots of others in between, choices abound.  One, though, is in a class by itself—and I don’t mean it stands above the rest but rather is one of those places where it’s all about the specialty pie.  That’s what you get—or hope to—at Bonobo, the rather ramshackle house of pizza that’s graced the corner of Pine and Brackett streets for years.

The no-frills dining room at Bonobo

I have only gone a few times to Bonobo in the last decade,  and one of the last times was during the reign of its original pie maker, Oliver Outerbridge  who confidently commandeered his small brick oven for wood-fired pies.  He, too, was in a class by himself.  A self-taught chef he specialized in the esoteric, calling his cooking Third World. It included touches of Thai cooking when Pad Thai was at a time a new dish to most American diners.

The lively bar at Bonobo

I first encountered his cooking at a small restaurant in Dark Harbor, Islesboro, the swank summer colony where the likes of Dillons, Travoltas and sundry social register members and wannabees spend their time.  Outerbridge himself is a trust fund baby.  But his cooking style held interest. The short reign of his Dark Harbor restaurant was the only one on the island apart from the dining room of the summer community’s private club.  Dining there was a chore indeed because it was the slowest kitchen in the manner  of Outer Mongolia.

He then went on to cook in Belfast when that town was just beginning to emerge as a happening place.  And somewhere along the way he wound up at Bonobo.  I don’t know if he came up with the name or inherited it.  It doesn’t matter.  His pies were special.

That was long ago.  Today it’s firmly a neighborhood place.  I don’t think there’s been a recent fresh coat of paint anywhere at 46 Pine St. In fact the owner of the building maintains a few very rundown rental  buildings nearby that are in various stages of decay.

A plain Caesar salad

A recent review in the Portland Press Herald deemed this place as a neighborhood spot with requisite bonhomie and had some measured comments about the quality of the pies and the friendliness of the staff treating everyone there like first cousins.

I don’t know about that and don’t really care.  It’s the quality of the pies that I wanted to experience when we walked in on a crowded Saturday night.  The hostess led us directly to a table smack in the middle of the traffic flow in front of the doorway.  I turned it down flat and pointed to where I wanted to sit, even if I felt the need to dust off my chair, which I did.

All around us—at the bar (only beer and wine) and at tables–everyone was drinking and chatting but not a speck of food in front of anyone.

And that is the key  here.  The kitchen is so slow as though in suspended animation.  There’s only one small if imperfect wood oven that accommodates 8 pies at a time.  I’m not sure if it even yields that much since the pies are all about 13 inches round, which would require that there be at least 100 inches of space in this small oven.

While you wait, you can order from a desultory list of wine and beer to wash down one of several salads listed on the menu: a garden salad or Caesar.

We ordered the latter and it came out fairly quickly as  the kitchen staff must have scooped out the fresh, cold  leaves of lettuce (naturally sourced) that was mixed in with a mild dressing.

There was a table of four next to us and they too lingered with suspended forks waiting  as everyone else in the room for food to arrive. Our very friendly waitress gave us progress reports: “Ten more minutes; five more minutes; almost done.”

Diners receiving their pies

And voila! A multitude of pies arrived for the party of four sitting next to us and ours shortly thereafter.  I must say the pies were beautiful looking. (And the pizza chef did an admirable job of putting out delicious pies.)

We chose one of the pies of the day (there are 16 different pies on the menu) called Old Major.  It’s a dumb name for a very tasty pie with house-made pork sausage, an avalanche of roasted red peppers, green olives and “mozz.”  This thin crusted pie would have been quite tasty if the crust were less soggy.  You had to eat it with a knife and fork since if you tried to pick it up slice fashion it would go as limp as a corpse.

The Old Major pizza

It will take at least 30 minutes to get fed here, which is a shame because the place has fleeting charms. Such as when you walk in there’s a counter of pies by the slice, which are held in one of those glassed heated carousels; the slices must be as old as the hills.

On the plus side, dining here is a true bargain.  Pies are $16 to $17  and a full meal  for two with salads, pie and drinks tops out  at about $20 each.

Some restaurants, however,  you know right away whether you’ll return and others merit this quip: I’ll never go back.

Bonobo Pizza, 46 Pine St., Portland, ME 207-347-8267 www.www.bonobopizza.com

Rating: Fairly good pizza in a drab, rundown setting in a popular West End setting

Ambiance: Basic

Tables: wobbly and small

Service: Friendly

Parking: On street

$$$: Inexpensive