Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, October 5, 1995                   TAG: 9510050013
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: CHRIS HENSON
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

PALS' PALATIAL MARKET EATERY IS ANYTHING BUT STUFFY

"We decorated with everything our wives won't let us put up at home," says David ``Chico" Estrada, the restaurant's co-owner. He's sold burritos and pizzas in the food court for years. And now he's got a restaurant. He and his partner, Billy Tresky, moved to expand the Market Building's pizza stand when the space became available.

Part of the fun has been making the place uniquely their own. From the bright red, yellow and green walls to the cockamamie menu, Chico & Billy's two basic purposes are to stuff every customer and send them away smiling.

"We give a fat amount of food," says Tresky of the servings. A veteran of both private and corporate pizza joints, he knows how to heap a plate. "I want people to have to take half their meal home with them."

He's proud of the sauces he makes from scratch for the baked pasta dishes, spaghetti and plate specials like eggplant rollatini.

"I simmer it for three hours," he says. "I'm not fooling around."

Then there's the pizza with a host of toppings that at times are downright experimental. Hot bell peppers, artichoke hearts and pesto sauce, for instance.

And pizzas with odd names are par for the course. They've got your "Gutbuster Pizza," the vegetarian "Meat-Haters Pizza." And the curious "The Polish Hammer," which is a pizza dedicated to the memory of the great Ivan Putsky, former World Wrestling Federation superstar. It's topped with kielbasa and red potatoes.

But wait, there's more. Take the mother of all stuffed pizzas: "The Double Over and Under Inverted Hog Back Screaming Growler Deluxe." It's got everything.

But, the best is the "Polish Burrito."

"It's what happens when a [Pole] and a Mexican go into the restaurant business together," says Estrada. It's a sort of pocket pizza stuffed with Polish sausage.

"Most of the restaurants downtown are either loud or expensive," says Estrada. "We're neither. It's like more of a family place."

Guests are treated to the wall of fame, a section covered with signed photographs, most of them bearing the inscription, "Chico and Billy's Pizza Makes Me Smile." Greta Evans and John Carlin of WSLS-TV are represented. Leonard Nimoy shares the wall with John Warner. Bob Dole and Chuck Robb are there too.

"I'm not shy," says Tresky. "I just walked into their offices and asked for them." Mayor Bowers is up there, too.

"He brought his own frame," says Tresky.

One wall features a kind of neo-hip-expressionist-nuclear-hot-key-improv paint job.

"When I was painting, I always wiped my brushes and rollers on that wall," says Estrada. "I figured I'd paint that one last." He liked it so much, however, that he left it alone.

The restaurateurs added the names of friends to the wall, sort of a tribute. Estrada points to the inscription "Bessi and Marge Rule!"

"They're our moms," he says. "We kind of owe everything to them, because both our dads ran out on us."

But, what about the stuff that's been spousally exiled? The framed sign that reads: "Please do not flush toilet while train is in the station." The John Lennon and Stevie Ray Vaughan posters. The sombrero.

"We call it a prestigious pizza and pasta palace because this IS our palace," says Tresky. "That's why we brought our stuff here."

Tresky has been a musician and a teacher, but he's probably happiest when he's cooking. And, Estrada, who moved out from L.A. and has been in Roanoke for nine years, talks like a native. "I love Roanoke," he says. "I never want to leave."

The two men believe the secret to making the restaurant a success is knowing their clientele. "We love to come out and BS with the customers," says Tresky. "They're our friends."

The colorful addition to downtown Roanoke is making more friends quickly. And Chico and Billy are sending them on their way, doggie bags in hand, all smiles.

"I've wanted to expand for a long time," says Estrada. "People were always asking, `When are you going to be open at night?'''

Being a full-blown restaurant means long hours, though, like 60 or more a week, for both Estrada and Tresky.

"It's just like playing basketball all day, man," says Estrada. "When you love it, it doesn't hurt at all."