After 10 Years, This Loxahatchee Pizzeria Is Finally Expanding

You know that feeling when your favorite hole-in-the-wall place finally gets some love from the universe? The kind of spot where you nursed a heartbreak with a pepperoni calzone or shared a sword-in-the-stone struggle with a stuck parmesan shaker.

Well, after an entire decade, Jabrewski’s Pizza Company, the legendary Loxahatchee pizzeria tucked in the heart of Florida, is finally making a move. And it’s not just about extra square footage; it’s about what this means for all of us loyal regulars who measure time in slices, not years.

The Family Table That Started It All

Everything kicked off at that battered round table near the window, the one with the wobbly leg and the painted-over initials. If you ever crashed there for a late-night slice or a post-soccer game victory, you know exactly what I’m talking about. I swear the wood absorbed more secrets than a therapist’s office.

The bickering, the belly laughs, the nights you thought you’d never recover from, somehow, it all got patched up over garlic knots and fountain sodas. It’s weird, but that table felt like a low-key spiritual headquarters for anyone orbiting this side of Loxahatchee. Even the staff at Jabrewski’s tiptoed around it when you were mid-confession.

Now, as Jabrewski’s Pizza Company expands, I can’t help hoping they drag that same table into the new place. Or at least bolt down a replica and let the next wave of locals add their own stories. After all, where else in Florida can you vent about your boss or fall in love over cold mozzarella sticks?

The Sauce That Launched a Thousand Debates

You could practically set your watch by the arguments over their sauce. Too sweet, too tangy, too much oregano, everyone had an opinion, and nobody ever changed theirs. My cousin once stormed out, swearing loyalty to some Naples-style place, but she snuck back the next week, sauce-splattered smile and all.

Real talk: the way Jabrewski’s makes their sauce is kind of a local legend. Rumor says the recipe came from a grandmother in Brooklyn who measured spices in fistfuls, not spoons. When the expansion plans dropped, the first question everyone had was, “Are they messing with the sauce?” Priorities, obviously.

So if this next chapter means more of us can argue, sample, and, let’s be honest, hoard those tiny plastic containers, I’m here for it. I’ll take my pizza extra saucy and my debates even hotter, thank you very much.

The Pizza Maker Who Never Forgot Your Name

Sometimes you walk in after the worst day, and the guy behind the counter greets you by name, tossing dough in the air like he’s throwing out lifelines. No one keeps better tabs on your favorite toppings or your breakup status than him. He’s basically the unofficial mayor of carbs.

He once slipped extra olives onto my slice after I flunked an exam, and I still remember how weirdly seen I felt. Not because olives solve existential angst, but because someone noticed. That’s rare in a world where even your dog forgets you if you’re ten minutes late.

As Jabrewski’s Pizza Company expands, I hope he’s first in line for a bigger spotlight. If loyalty earned frequent flier miles, he’d get his own runway. Here’s to the people who made pizza personal, one floury handshake at a time.

The Shady Patio Where Friendships Grew Roots

Picture this: a string of wobbly plastic chairs in the Florida heat, a table sticky with spilled soda, and a breeze that never quite cuts the humidity. It sounds gritty, but something about that patio made it the perfect hideout. You could be loud or silent, together or alone. No one judged you for eating an entire pie by yourself.

Remember the first time you saw someone break up outside, tears, pizza crusts, awkward group divide? Or the summer night when you and your friends planned to move to New York, only to stay put because, well, Jabrewski’s had better garlic knots? Those memories stuck like cheese on a pan.

With the expansion, maybe they’ll pick fancier furniture or string up more lights. But I hope they keep a corner for the grown-up kids who never really left. Grown-ups need a place to hang out, too.

The Slice That Was Worth the Wait

Waiting for your order at Jabrewski’s taught more patience than yoga ever could. The line snaked out the door, kids bounced off the gumball machine, and everyone insisted they were next. Still, you waited, because you knew what came at the end: a slice that hit every craving at once.

That first bite, crispy bottom, stretchy cheese, and just enough char to taste like a tiny rebellion. No fancy toppings needed. Just the basics, done with a stubborn sort of pride that felt almost old-fashioned.

Now that their sign finally reads “Coming Soon” in a new location, I get why it’s a big deal. Good things aren’t supposed to come easy, and pizza that’s worth the wait is the ultimate proof. Besides, half the fun is eye-rolling at the wait times together. Florida may have a lot of pizza joints, but only Jabrewski’s Pizza Company makes waiting feel like part of the tradition.