What is your favorite meal? For me, there is only one answer. It's pizza. When I wrote my entry on this blog about my love for Bacon I referred to it as a "desert island food." One that you would take in unlimited quantities if you were to be marooned on an island for the rest of your life and actually given the time to make a huge Costco trip on the way to the airport. But pizza is at the top of my "one meal of the rest of your life" list. It's a dish. A meal. A perfect conglomeration of ingredients. And believe me when I tell you that I have thought long and hard about this - in fact I've probably spent too much time thinking about it. But I have come to the sincere conclusion that if I were forced to choose one meal to eat every day for the rest of my life I would never get tired of eating pizza. I love good pizza. Who doesn't. It's chewy, tangy, spicy, creamy and it smells just divine. It's also complete. A perfectly balanced combination of all the seven major food groups (I'm just guessing on this one.... I've lost track of how many sections there are on that pyramid or hexagon or other shaped chart the government has deemed officially healthy for us at this point. Also, I don't really care). But here's the secret to truly calling yourself a pizza lover: I also love bad pizza. I love greasy, heartburn-inducing, limp or mass produced pizza made with cheap relatively low-quality ingredients. Sure, I prefer pizza that is made with loving thought and care. And sometimes I will pass on bad pizza in favor of another dish. But I've made no secret that I believe "good" food has to do with how it makes you feel and whether it makes you happy or satisfies some part of your soul. And when the craving strikes, even the Noid* would be welcome in my house. Good pizza is better, though. I have favorites. And I think that pizza is important enough to be taken seriously. Sometimes it is a quick convenience food. Or something easily shared with a crowd. But yesterday I had the opportunity to spend the afternoon with a friend I don't see nearly often enough now that we have left Canada and moved back home to the US. And we went out for pizza. Fancy pizza prepared with care and high quality ingredients. It was delicious and it made us all happy and didn't for a moment feel like an afterthought or a cop out. My kids don't like pizza. On one hand, I want them to be true to their own taste buds. But on the other hand, I feel like I've failed them if they can't behold the universal truth that pizza is delicious. My kids' major hangup seems to be with sauce. And I just can't relate. Tomato sauce is one of my favorite things about pizza and I nearly always order extra in which to dip my pizza and crust. When we make pizza at home the create their own pies with cheese and bacon. That's it: crust, cheese, bacon. My hope is that someday they will strike out and "try" pizza again and realize they've been missing out all along. But until that day, I remind myself that it's not my job to teach them what they like or dislike. As with wings, their own tastes are evidence that I haven't ruined them with my own opinions or hangups. I've said before that I can critique pizza to within an inch of its life. But not to complain. I can discuss the crust, cheese, toppings, shaping and baking techniques with unnecessary passion and conviction. I also have many treasured memories of eating particular pizzas and truths about pizza that I hold to be self-evident....for me. Here are just a few:
The bottom line is that I love pizza. It's fun to think about why and how and go on about memories and rules. But everything here boils down to the truth that it tastes good and I enjoy sharing that enjoyment and experience with others whenever possible. And sometimes that's just simply enough. |
*If you got that one, congratulations! Award yourself five bonus points. If you didn't, click here to learn what you're missing.