Meet the dough-maker who’s keeping a Randolph classic exactly as you remember it.
I knew I wanted to interview Kittu Nelakuditi, Randolph Village Pizza’s new-ish owner, so I spent the whole month of February eating their food—strictly to see if anything had changed—before mustering up the courage to ask him if he’d sit down with me for a conversation. He agreed immediately. We met in my office at Town Hall and ended up laughing for almost an hour. Kittu is one of Randolph’s most eligible bachelors and easily one of the smartest, kindest people I’ve met in a long time. Let me share our conversation.
(Steve Toulis, Randolph Village Pizza cook since 1995)
Keeping What Works
When I asked whether he’d changed anything about the food, he didn’t hesitate. “We haven’t even changed a brick in the place,” he said. The dough, the meat sauce, the house dressing—everything is still made from scratch, exactly as it has been for nearly 40 years. The only change, he told me, is him. That commitment comes in part from his deep respect for Steve Toulis, the legendary manager who has been at Randolph Village Pizza since 1991. Steve’s first words to him were, “Please don’t change anything. If you do, I’m walking out the door.” Kittu laughed as he told me this, but he also honored it. He respects the people who built the place long before he arrived, the customers who love it, and the culture of consistency that has kept Village Pizza a staple for generations.
Kittu moved to Randolph in February 2025, leaving behind Nashua, New Hampshire, where he had lived for years. His business partner, Shyam Vasireddy, owns a 7-Eleven in Manchester, and together they decided to take a leap into small-town entrepreneurship. Kittu has a master’s degree in computer and information science and worked as a software developer before deciding to pursue something more hands-on, more personal, and more rooted in community. He didn’t know anyone here. He had never lived in a small town. And on his very first night, his car got towed because he didn’t see the “No Overnight Parking” sign outside his Main Street apartment. “The guy who sold the place to us just said, ‘Welcome to Randolph,’” he told me, shaking his head and laughing. But despite that rocky start, he said the community embraced him immediately. People recognized him. They welcomed him. They wished him well. And over time, he found comfort in the rhythm of the town.
(Kaleigh Jarvis, Erin (need last name), Jeff Theobeau, Steve Toulis)
The People Who Make the Place
Kittu is the first one in the shop every morning—usually by 6:30 a.m.—because he makes the dough himself. He’s proud of that. He’s proud of the scratch-made sauces. He’s proud of the spotless kitchen (“We all have OCD,” he joked). And he’s proud of the people who work beside him every day. He talked about Steve, the backbone of the operation for 35 years, and about Jeff Theobeau, another long-timer who closes the shop with Steve. He spoke warmly about Erin, who runs the front of house with calm competence. And then there’s Kaleigh Jarvis, the high school student who joined the team in November and is already part of the family. We all know Kaleigh—she’s one of the rare athletes in RUHS history to score 1,000 career points. Go Kaleigh! Her work ethic on the court shows up behind the counter too, and Kittu lights up when he talks about how focused and reliable she is.
One thing longtime locals already know—but newcomers might not—is that Randolph Village Pizza doesn’t serve French fries. They never have. Instead, they serve oven-baked potato wedges. “We want to keep our surroundings clean,” Kittu said, explaining that a deep fryer would change the entire feel of the kitchen. “All of us, including me, have a little OCD,” he joked. The wedges have become part of the restaurant’s identity—crispy, satisfying, and honestly a touch healthier than fries.
The grill schedule is another detail worth knowing. From Monday through Thursday, the grill is open from 11:00 a.m. to 7:30 p.m. On Fridays and Saturdays, the grill closes at 3:00 p.m. because of the weekend rush. When the grill is closed, the only item they can’t offer is the steak sub—everything else on the menu remains available. “I feel bad about it,” he said, “but it’s the only way to keep up with the volume.” And truly, it’s just one item.
A Vermonter-in-Progress
When I asked whether he’d made the business more profitable, he shrugged it off. He’s made a few “street smart moves,” as he put it—cutting unnecessary expenses like overpriced Wi-Fi—but he refuses to compromise on quality. “Even if we have to pay a dollar or two more, we don’t mind,” he said. “The quality has to be consistent.” He also refuses to offer delivery because he doesn’t want to promise something he can’t deliver year-round. Winter roads, long distances, and unpredictable weather make it too risky. “I don’t want to tell customers we can do delivery in summer but not in winter,” he said. That’s the kind of honesty people trust.
Kittu is single, lives alone, and is still adjusting to small-town life. But he’s leaning in. He’s learning to snowboard at Bolton. He’s exploring the area. He’s getting to know people. And he’s grateful for how Randolph has treated him. “Wherever I go, people recognize me—‘You’re the guy from Village Pizza!’ I love your pizza,” he said, smiling. It’s clear he feels at home.
After spending an hour with Kittu, it’s obvious why Randolph Village Pizza continues to feel like itself. He didn’t come here to reinvent anything. He came here to honor what already worked, to respect the people who built it, and to become part of a community that—despite a towed car on night one—has welcomed him with open arms. Randolph is lucky to have him. And if you haven’t been to Village Pizza lately, go say hello. He’ll probably be there—making dough, cleaning the grill, or chatting with a customer who has become a friend.
