I eat too much pizza

I can’t remember the last time a week went by without one whole meal revolving around pizza. It’s disastrous (and when I say one whole meal, what I really mean is at least two whole meals). Why do I continue to justify this gluttonous, not-all-that-healthy, and overly lazy excuse for a meal? I’m not sure but it was love at first bite for this immigrant child who still holds onto that original Queens pizza taste from 1979.

Nowadays I try to diversify my pizza consumption – albeit mildly. Nick’s on the Upper East Side one day, Dean’s in Tribeca another and John’s on Bleeker on a rare trek to the West Village.

My local pizza shop is Sal’s on Madison – right off the bus stop. My only diversity there is whether I order a medium or large (plain cheese) pie. But I stress out when it’s time to call Sal’s. Like everything in my life, I take my pizza too seriously. I like my pizza to be well-done enough to be perfectly crispy – but not burnt!

Under-cooked pizza creates a fondue-went-bad texture on a still-taste-the-yeast crust. (For me, that is – everyone is entitled to their own bad taste.) So I like to ask for my pizza to be well-done but I want to do it in a way that doesn’t insult Sal’s pizza making skills into spitting on my pizza. I wanted Sal to understand that I fully acknowledge that there is a fine, yet blurry line between well-done and burnt.

I’ve come up with the brilliant line to use when I call to order pizza. It goes like this: ““Well-done but not burnt. You know.”

This is the pizza box that Sal’s came in today. Seriously? Is this what we’re doing now?

Got something to say?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s