A Trip to the Suburbs: Christopher's in Humble

Thursday, March 27, 2014
Prepare yourself for some super hipster photos.

Well, for me anyway. I'm playing with this new "Matte" action I installed on my Photoshop, and it's just so darn fun!

It's also so darn fitting for this post because this was the day I sat in traffic for 75 minutes to go to the eye doctor who I've been going to all my life (come on, you know you do it too with your dentists and hair dressers and psychics and whatnot), and ordered my new pair of super hipster glasses because my right eye has been literally the worst lately.

That's my "hipster" face. I'm sorry you can't unsee that.

But I won THIS battle, Right Eye!

Since I was out in Humble, I asked my friend Melinda to meet me for dinner. We decided to meet at a pizza joint called Christopher's. I had only ever been to the Kingwood location a million years ago, which is called J. Christopher's, and I LOVED that place. The Humble one used to be called J. Christopher's as well (where did you go, J?!?!), but it is now under new ownership which you can read all about on their website.

Anywho, Melinda has a beautiful, exceptionally well-behaved two year old named Adele, who she brought along with her to our pizza night.

Here's a little story about how even though I babysat my way through grad school in New York, I still know absolutely nothing about children:

I walk into the restaurant before they get there, the host asks me how many we'll be, and I say "Three. Well, two and a baby. Actually she's not really a baby, she's a toddler." The host says, "So do you need a high chair?" Me: "Nahhh, we don't need a high chair."

Five minutes later, Melinda walks in with Adele and says to the host, "Hi, could we please have a high chair?"

Listen, she's a super advanced child! I was giving credit where credit was due.

Oh, but look at those bread sticks. And look at the BUTTER dripping off of them. I think their garlic bread sticks were my favorite thing I ate that night. Soft, fluffy, perfectly salty, and sinfully buttery. I couldn't stop shoveling them into my mouth! Poor Adele had to wrestle the eighth one out of the clutches of my fists and gently explain to me that I need help.

Told you she was advanced.

To start, I ordered a side Caesar salad with anchovies. Dear Christopher Without the J: Thank you for giving me the exact perfect amount of anchovies. Sometimes restaurants give you an overpowering amount. Sometimes they're so chintzy with them it makes me feel empty inside. But on this night, after having undergone the ever-dreaded blowing-air-into-my-eye procedure, followed by proving that I'm a complete moron when it comes to children, this Caesar salad was a ray of sunlight. Just perfect.

Oh my gosh, and guess what? I ordered a beer and it was free. As in, it cost nothing. Like, I paid zero dollars for it.

And I know you must be thinking that surely the bartender had gotten lost in my overly dilated pupils and rapidly twitching right eye so my drink was on the house, but surprisingly you would be mistaken.

They are just free, end of story. Something to do with liquor licenses. I'm so on board.

Big pizza, little human.
Unfortunately, I have to say the pizza was my least favorite part. But this is ENTIRELY my fault. You see, when I was younger, the only kind of pizza I ever ate was cheese pizza (that was after I got over my hatred of tomatoes and wouldn't eat any kind of pizza, which I still have trouble comprehending). So when I ordered pizza at Christopher's with a J in the past, it was always cheese, and it was always amazing. Nowadays I try to be all fancy with my pizza, so we ordered a large pizza, half cheese for the small adorable human and Melinda (who also happens to be a small adorable human), and half mushroom and onion for me. It was fine, but it really did throw off the whole thin crust, super crispy to the point of *almost* being burned but not, minimalist, delicious pizza that I remembered. I feel like the beauty of a thin crust Christopher pizza is in its simplicity. The simplicity of it allows the ingredients of cheese and sauce and super crispy crust to shine. I feel like my additives took away from all of that. So lesson learned: If you remember something being wonderful from years ago, DON'T DEVIATE.

Also, I saved the pizza. Uhh, I mean I saved Adele.

After I unintentionally convinced Melinda that she should never leave her child alone with me I saved her child's life from a pizza mishap.

Melinda went to pull off a slice.

Instead, she pulled off the entire pizza.

Which I saw slide off in slow motion towards the high chaired-lap of Adele.

I dove.

Stuck MY ENTIRE HAND into the pizza.

And saved the day.

But heroics aside, I really do cherish this little spot. It's very casual and comfortable, and everything is super delicious (get the thin crust CHEESE pizza) and incredibly inexpensive. I'm so glad I was able to experience it once again!

Hipstering OUT. *mic drop*


  1. LOL 1) I love your glasses 2) that was a hilarious hero story 3) that pizza still looks damn delicious no matter what you say 4) I wish Humble wasn't so far away!!!

    1. Why thank you! On the weekends it's only a 45 minute drive out there, which isn't nearly as bad. But I'll admit it - if it weren't for my dentist, eye doctor, and friends out there, I'd probably stick close to my inner loop apartment 100% of the time.

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