Forget the pepperoni. What “crazy” local flavor on pizza best represents your hometown?

Are you at all creative and experimental in the kitchen? If so, it doesn’t take long for you to start thinking about what interesting new pizzas you want to create.
 
There’s a game to play here. I’m not sure you’ll want to play along. There is danger ahead.
 
Have you ever considered a pizza with roast pork, or gravied ground beef, or shrimp, or fresh corn, or lobster or oysters?
 
Do those possibilities make you wonder what the hell is wrong with me?
 
Would you believe they’re not my ideas? (Well, not most of them.)
 
Would understanding where these pizza ideas come from lead you to a “crazy-idea pizza” of your own that represents your own stomping grounds? You might be surprised. 

I’ve begun asking people a question, and I’m asking it to you, too.
 
This morning, I said to my wife and author of hilarious novels, The Fabulous Honey Parker, “What pizza do you think truly represents your hometown of Philly?”
 
She began thinking about it.
 
I already knew she wasn’t going to say “Cheesesteak.”
 
We’ve both already expressed mutual dismay for how a cheesesteak pizza usually turns out. (And since it has been co-opted by a national pizza delivery chain, we maintain an unflattering degree of cynicism about it.)
 
After a moment, Honey said, “Roast pork and broccoli rabe. A white pizza.”
 
Yes! I like this.
 
It’s really representative of Philly food culture in that “If ya know, ya know” kinda way.
 
Yes, everyone thinks the Philly cheesesteak is where the action is. That’s because it’s the sandwich that gets all the fanfare and media coverage.
 
The dark horse, however, is the Philly pork sandwich. It’s the sleeper hit. It’s the sandwich for grownups and sophisticates.
 
So what is a Philly roast pork sandwich?
 
It’s served on a traditional hearty sub roll. Containing thin slices of well-spiced pork roast (which is really braised and not roasted), broccoli rabe (also known as rapini, among other names, and is a bitter plant related to kale), chopped hot pickled peppers, the jus from the pork, and sliced provolone.
 
Of course, because of that jus, this is a wet sandwich. It needs to be adapted to pizza.
 
And I’m thinking, Well, we could reduce that jus and even thicken it with a roux. Make the pizza with thin-sliced provolone and some hard-aged cheese like Pecorino Romano. This could be good.
 
We’re going to work on developing that one.
 
And it was a fairly easy pizza to imagine. Philly has the nation’s largest Italian population outside of New York. It’s unsurprising that in Philly, a sandwich with roots in Italy’s Abruzzo region would be a popular local comestible—and inspire someone to want it on a pizza.
 
I also asked “What pizza would represent your hometown?” to a friend from Kansas farm country.
 
I knew it was going to be tough. She is one of the surprising number of people I know who possess fond memories of the Chef Boyardee Pizza Kit in the box. That was a big deal for her and her siblings back in the day.  
 
I asked her about what pizza topping would represent her hometown (which is 45 minutes a light year away from Kansas City cuisine). She thought about it, and confessed that she had nothing, that the food there was “pretty boring.”
 
She finally said, “Red sauce and cheese.”
 
I said, “Well, what kind of foods did you typically eat there? What did you look forward to? Anything seasonal?”
 
She said, “Meat, potatoes, summer corn.”
 
Ah, summer corn. That’s almost a religion. (Something with which she agreed heartily.)
 
I said, “What about a pizza with potatoes, ground beef and summer corn?” Yes, I know: it sounds a little like a cottage pie gone wrong.
 
She said, “Sure!”
 
Then, I asked the question I knew to be dangerous: “Would you ever eaten a white pizza in Kansas? Or would it have to be red sauce with cheese?”
 
“Oh, definitely red sauce with cheese. No white pizza.”
 
Apparently that would be too edgy and weird back in Kansas. Think what would happen if they’d ended up in Munchkin Land and experienced little people of the Lollipop Guild.  
 
So anyway, I’m thinking about a red pizza with savory ground-beef, potatoes and summer corn.
 
What’s that? You scoff? Did you know, potatoes on pizza are a thing in Italy? I’ve also seen New York slice shops with potato pizza in the case. And corn is perhaps the world’s most popular pizza topping. Didn’t see that one coming, didja?
 
As for my hometown pizza, I had to think about where I grew up on the Connecticut coast.
 
There’s already a pizza that I believe represents the Connecticut coast quote well: the white clam pizza famously created about a hundred years ago by Frank Pepe’s Pizzeria Napoletana in New Haven. To this day, it remains legendary and sought after.
 
I also suspect that most people I know from Connecticut have never had one. (I recently mentioned this pizza to a foodie friend who blurted, “That’s disgusting!” Wow.)
 
More people I know from the Nutmeg state would enjoy eating lobster. And there are all kinds of recipes out there for lobster pizza.
 
My challenge with a lobster pizza is lobster is its own kind of decadence. Putting it on a pizza smacks of a bit too much of a good thing.
 
That said, maybe there could be a lobster-roll pizza. Lobster roll is a thing that has had its own vogue going for awhile. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s basically a lobster salad on a bun, traditionally a hot dog bun. But there have been all kinds of upgrades lately.
 
So, how would the lobster roll manifest itself, pizza-wise?
 
For me, the lobster salad on the pizza would probably have to be mayo-free. Instead, I’d consider something more like a bechamel sauce, lobster on top, and drizzled with a good olive oil and fresh herb mixture.
 
But really, instead of a lobster pizza, how about a shellfish pizza? This is also a nod to the coast of Italy and the pizza pescatore, or fisherman’s pizza.
 
Use the bechamel. It’s a little like the creamy white base of a New England chowder. Top it with clams, squid and mussels. Maybe corn? Don’t laugh. Some Yankees love corn in their seafood chowders, and now we’re sailing into the vicinity of a summertime seafood chowder.
 
I’d have to think more on that one. And since I no longer live in CT, it’s a low priority for me. Instead, I now live on the Mississippi Gulf Coast.
 
And by far, there is one pizza topping that would most profoundly represent the coast, and which I have avoided.
 
I’ve made pizza with boudin and andouille. These are uniquely southern ingredients, each of them a type of sausage.
 
Boudin is ground up pork meat, pork liver, spices and rice stuffed into a sausage casing.
 
Andouille is more familiar to people, and is a double-smoked pork sausage made of pork, garlic, pepper, onions, wine, and seasonings.
 
I’ve also used tasso, which is a kind of mystery outside of the south. Known also as “tasso ham,” it’s not actually ham but a spiced and smoked pork shoulder. It’s flavorful and often used for flavoring dishes like jambalaya.
 
I’ve served pizza with tasso (among other things) to locals who marvel at it. “I NEVER would have thought of putting tasso on a pizza!”
 
My unspoken question to that exclamation is, “Well why not? It’s a spicy smoked meat product like many others that go on pizza.” And the answer is likely: I never thought about it because I don’t think outside what’s already inside the pizza box.
 
But all these toppings are all very Cajun, which more southwestern Louisiana and less Mississippi.
 
Here on the Gulf Coast, shrimping used to be big.
 
And I’ve given people shrimp and garlic pizza, which I think represents Mississippi very nicely. While the shrimping industry here is a faint shadow of its former self, there are still proud shrimpers in the community. It’s also an easy pizza to make, and it’s a crowd pleaser.
 
But the proudest Mississippi food of all, the one I’ve so far avoided on pizza, is…
 
 
The oyster.
 
What’s that? You’ve never had an oyster pizza?
 
Neither have I.
 
But I think I already know what the pizza is going to look like.
 
Have you ever had Oysters Rockefeller?
 
We’re talking chargrilled oysters with butter, parsley and other green herbs, bread crumbs, spinach and bacon.
 
Yes, this is a rich dish, hence its name. John D. Rockefeller was the wealthiest man in the country when this dish was unveiled at Antoine’s in the French Quarter, so Oysters Rockefeller it was dubbed.
 
My only challenge is that it’s a New Orleans-born dish. New Orleans is about an hour up the highway. But I can’t find any traditional Mississippi oyster recipes that will work on pizza. And Mississippians love their Oysters Rockefeller and their cousin, chargrilled oysters.
 
And if the pizza celebrates the Mississippi oyster, then why not. I say go for it.
 
We’re going to work on that, too.
 
So what about you? Where do you live? And what would be your hometown pizza flavor?
 
It should be something unexpected. Something your local pizzeria wouldn’t make. It doesn’t need to be complicated.
 
If you’re brave enough to play this crazy little game, especially if you’re willing to go out to the edge, write down 1. Your hometown, 2. your idea for a hometown pizza, and 3. why.
 
Send it to me here at the contact form using the subject line “Hometown.” We’ll see what kind of hometown pizza madness we can unleash.
 
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