PIZZA MEMORIES
Want to be part of the pizza memories book project, as discussed on Peter Reinhart's podcast, Pizza Quest?
|
|
|
Unedited text of pizza memories from the original blog posts appears below.
Want to share your own pizza memory for the book project? Click here.
Memories of pizza past, triggered by pizzas of today...
Peter Reinhart
James-Beard Award-winning author
Educator at Johnson & Wales
Pizza guru & host of the podcast, Pizza Quest
I grew up in Philadelphia in the 1950's and 1960's. My family had two go-to pizzerias: Mama's and Pagano's. They were different but each equally good and, because they formed an iconic part of my childhood, they represented, going forward, the benchmarks of what pizza ought to be. There were others, pretenders to the throne, but these two were the Coke and Pepsi of my formative pizza years. Since then, as I have reported in my writings, my world has expanded and Mama's and Pagano's have been parked in my cherished way-back-when memory vault, along with Bobby Rydel, Chubby Checkers, and the 1967 Champion Philadelphia 76ers with Wilt Chamberlain, where I sometimes served as Wilt's personal ballboy. Pagano's is long gone, folding up shop shortly after patriarch Charlie Pagano passed away. Mama's, where I was a sometimes delivery boy, is still going strong, in its third location, even after founder Paul Castelucci died, the family legacy carried on by his son Paul, Jr. But Paul Jr. was never a pizza savant like his dad and, instead, focused on his own personal passion, cheese steaks, crafting what I still believe are the best cheese steaks in Philadelphia (and, thus, in the world). In fact, Mama's stopped serving pizzas altogether about 5 years ago to focus on cheese steaks and hoagies. (I wrote a more extended version of this story in my book, "American Pie: My Search for the Perfect Pizza," should you care to track it down).
Those taste memories from Pagano's and Mama's are, nevertheless, imprinted onto my soul and, every once in a while, I'll taste a slice somewhere else that has a vibrant messy tomato sauce like Pagano's, or a blistery, bubbly crust with a gooey, stringy cheese pull like Mama's (which I later learned was caused by a blend of mozzarella, cheddar, and Parmesan cheeses) and I'm instantly transported back to my youth. This happens here in my new hometown of Charlotte, NC, where my pizza go-to places are Luisa's and also Geno D's. Luisa's triggers the Pagano's button, and Geno D's taps open the Mama's lock box. Geno D's is helmed by Geno DePaulo, originally from the Tom's River area of, NJ. He refers to his pizza as Jersey-style, which he describes as meaning, "Because I'm from New Jersey and my pizza is made with love." Okay, not too esoteric but it works for me. His pizza is baked in a conveyer Marshall Middleby "Wow Oven," which is nothing like the Baker's Pride deck oven that Paul Castelucci used at Mama's, but somehow the resulting Geno D's pizza sets off the time machine and I am instantly back in the original Mama's Pizzeria, with its 1950's Formica-topped tables, on Main Street in Manyunk, PA (way before Manyunk became gentrified and retro-trendy). The main thing that Geno's has in common with Mama's, I am forced to conclude, is that it is made with love and, everything else being equal, that is all the trigger I need.
Luisa's makes their pizzas in a wood-burning, gas-supported hybrid oven, an unheard-of concept when Pagano's, with its standard pizza deck ovens, was in full flower. But the balance of flavors and textures in Luisa's pizzas, especially their juicy tomato-pesto pizza (called "The Luisa"), blows open the memory vault and there I am, thanking Charlie Pagano for yet another memorable meal, including Pagano's signature Broasted Chicken (a pressure cooker/deep fryer hybrid, later adopted by KFC and the other fried chicken chains), and also their spaghetti with clam sauce (red or white, but I preferred the while).
Pagano's was a full tilt restaurant experience, while Mama's was all about pizza, hoagies, and cheese steaks. Both places, however, are etched in my taste memory hall of fame, and now, sixty years later, and 600 miles away, it's nice to know that they both still exist, reincarnated in spirit and taste, at Luisa's and Geno D's.
James-Beard Award-winning author
Educator at Johnson & Wales
Pizza guru & host of the podcast, Pizza Quest
I grew up in Philadelphia in the 1950's and 1960's. My family had two go-to pizzerias: Mama's and Pagano's. They were different but each equally good and, because they formed an iconic part of my childhood, they represented, going forward, the benchmarks of what pizza ought to be. There were others, pretenders to the throne, but these two were the Coke and Pepsi of my formative pizza years. Since then, as I have reported in my writings, my world has expanded and Mama's and Pagano's have been parked in my cherished way-back-when memory vault, along with Bobby Rydel, Chubby Checkers, and the 1967 Champion Philadelphia 76ers with Wilt Chamberlain, where I sometimes served as Wilt's personal ballboy. Pagano's is long gone, folding up shop shortly after patriarch Charlie Pagano passed away. Mama's, where I was a sometimes delivery boy, is still going strong, in its third location, even after founder Paul Castelucci died, the family legacy carried on by his son Paul, Jr. But Paul Jr. was never a pizza savant like his dad and, instead, focused on his own personal passion, cheese steaks, crafting what I still believe are the best cheese steaks in Philadelphia (and, thus, in the world). In fact, Mama's stopped serving pizzas altogether about 5 years ago to focus on cheese steaks and hoagies. (I wrote a more extended version of this story in my book, "American Pie: My Search for the Perfect Pizza," should you care to track it down).
Those taste memories from Pagano's and Mama's are, nevertheless, imprinted onto my soul and, every once in a while, I'll taste a slice somewhere else that has a vibrant messy tomato sauce like Pagano's, or a blistery, bubbly crust with a gooey, stringy cheese pull like Mama's (which I later learned was caused by a blend of mozzarella, cheddar, and Parmesan cheeses) and I'm instantly transported back to my youth. This happens here in my new hometown of Charlotte, NC, where my pizza go-to places are Luisa's and also Geno D's. Luisa's triggers the Pagano's button, and Geno D's taps open the Mama's lock box. Geno D's is helmed by Geno DePaulo, originally from the Tom's River area of, NJ. He refers to his pizza as Jersey-style, which he describes as meaning, "Because I'm from New Jersey and my pizza is made with love." Okay, not too esoteric but it works for me. His pizza is baked in a conveyer Marshall Middleby "Wow Oven," which is nothing like the Baker's Pride deck oven that Paul Castelucci used at Mama's, but somehow the resulting Geno D's pizza sets off the time machine and I am instantly back in the original Mama's Pizzeria, with its 1950's Formica-topped tables, on Main Street in Manyunk, PA (way before Manyunk became gentrified and retro-trendy). The main thing that Geno's has in common with Mama's, I am forced to conclude, is that it is made with love and, everything else being equal, that is all the trigger I need.
Luisa's makes their pizzas in a wood-burning, gas-supported hybrid oven, an unheard-of concept when Pagano's, with its standard pizza deck ovens, was in full flower. But the balance of flavors and textures in Luisa's pizzas, especially their juicy tomato-pesto pizza (called "The Luisa"), blows open the memory vault and there I am, thanking Charlie Pagano for yet another memorable meal, including Pagano's signature Broasted Chicken (a pressure cooker/deep fryer hybrid, later adopted by KFC and the other fried chicken chains), and also their spaghetti with clam sauce (red or white, but I preferred the while).
Pagano's was a full tilt restaurant experience, while Mama's was all about pizza, hoagies, and cheese steaks. Both places, however, are etched in my taste memory hall of fame, and now, sixty years later, and 600 miles away, it's nice to know that they both still exist, reincarnated in spirit and taste, at Luisa's and Geno D's.
Kristian Tapaninaho
Founder & CEO of Ooni
One of my really early childhood memories goes back to my grandmother in my hometown, Pyhäjärvi. [International phonetic alphabet pronunciation: “pyhæˌjærʋi.”] This is a memory around my grandmother's house where she used to live. It was a farmhouse. They had 20 cows and a very small farm. It’s kind of my earliest memory.
My grandmother used to make this kind of very rudimentary pan pizza. She had a bread-style dough, and spread it across a pan. And it was baked in a regular electric oven. So you're looking at only about 500 degrees Fahrenheit.
She often used ketchup as the sauce. I don't think we even had canned tomatoes in the ‘80s in Finland, so I don't think that would've been a thing. So ketchup for the sauce, and a lightly sautéed mince. Not English style mince meat, which is a sweet filling used in pies but, I think, ground beef in American English. Usually lightly seasoned with salt and pepper. Simple flavors in Finland around those days. And then, big slices of tomatoes, and cheese on top of that, and then it was baked in the oven. Maybe a bit of dried basil as well. All dried spices and herbs like that. I don't think we had any fresh ones at that stage.
That goes to my first early pizza memories from my childhood. It was always a special occasion to have pizza. A bit out of the ordinary. And it was always wrapped with that warmth and joy of visiting their farm. Until I was 7, we lived two hours north where my parents were still studying so this was not every week at all.
Is there any pizza today that makes me think of that pizza? No, not really. I've asked my mom to keep an eye out in old bookshops and places like that, if she's ever in one, to look at cookbooks from the seventies and eighties. I’d like to see if she could actually find some of those early recipes for what we thought of as pizza back then in the ‘80s in Finland. The dough was quite different from what you get today.
I think pizza is better thought through these days. And, I mean, nobody would use ketchup as a pizza sauce these days. I'd love to try and recreate that pizza as close as possible, but then maybe twist it a little to be a bit more to, I don't know, I don't want to say “palatable.” But it wasn’t fantastic pizza. We didn't eat pizza very often when I was a kid. I can't imagine there was a lot of pizza in Scandinavia at all.
The pizza that we got in restaurants back then was closer to German flammkuchen style. A really thin-base kind of thing. And there are other maybe memories of that style of a pizza. But it's only been in the last 15 years that pizza has become a thing, really. And I hope [with Ooni] we've maybe played a little part in that around the world, introducing people to that and maybe inspiring a few people to get into pizza making.
It takes a lot to start a pizzeria. It's not just having an idea, but actually finding enough people to run the pizzeria for you. I think that's what I find that pizzerias struggle with the most, is just getting great pizzaiolos in to continue doing great quality at a consistent rate.
Founder & CEO of Ooni
One of my really early childhood memories goes back to my grandmother in my hometown, Pyhäjärvi. [International phonetic alphabet pronunciation: “pyhæˌjærʋi.”] This is a memory around my grandmother's house where she used to live. It was a farmhouse. They had 20 cows and a very small farm. It’s kind of my earliest memory.
My grandmother used to make this kind of very rudimentary pan pizza. She had a bread-style dough, and spread it across a pan. And it was baked in a regular electric oven. So you're looking at only about 500 degrees Fahrenheit.
She often used ketchup as the sauce. I don't think we even had canned tomatoes in the ‘80s in Finland, so I don't think that would've been a thing. So ketchup for the sauce, and a lightly sautéed mince. Not English style mince meat, which is a sweet filling used in pies but, I think, ground beef in American English. Usually lightly seasoned with salt and pepper. Simple flavors in Finland around those days. And then, big slices of tomatoes, and cheese on top of that, and then it was baked in the oven. Maybe a bit of dried basil as well. All dried spices and herbs like that. I don't think we had any fresh ones at that stage.
That goes to my first early pizza memories from my childhood. It was always a special occasion to have pizza. A bit out of the ordinary. And it was always wrapped with that warmth and joy of visiting their farm. Until I was 7, we lived two hours north where my parents were still studying so this was not every week at all.
Is there any pizza today that makes me think of that pizza? No, not really. I've asked my mom to keep an eye out in old bookshops and places like that, if she's ever in one, to look at cookbooks from the seventies and eighties. I’d like to see if she could actually find some of those early recipes for what we thought of as pizza back then in the ‘80s in Finland. The dough was quite different from what you get today.
I think pizza is better thought through these days. And, I mean, nobody would use ketchup as a pizza sauce these days. I'd love to try and recreate that pizza as close as possible, but then maybe twist it a little to be a bit more to, I don't know, I don't want to say “palatable.” But it wasn’t fantastic pizza. We didn't eat pizza very often when I was a kid. I can't imagine there was a lot of pizza in Scandinavia at all.
The pizza that we got in restaurants back then was closer to German flammkuchen style. A really thin-base kind of thing. And there are other maybe memories of that style of a pizza. But it's only been in the last 15 years that pizza has become a thing, really. And I hope [with Ooni] we've maybe played a little part in that around the world, introducing people to that and maybe inspiring a few people to get into pizza making.
It takes a lot to start a pizzeria. It's not just having an idea, but actually finding enough people to run the pizzeria for you. I think that's what I find that pizzerias struggle with the most, is just getting great pizzaiolos in to continue doing great quality at a consistent rate.
Tuan Tran
Chef & Entrepreneur
FAT Tacos
DuMa Pizza
Growing up in a Vietnamese household, we didn't eat pizza. My parents weren't very familiar with pizza. It was something my sisters and I would eat only at school or at a birthday party of my non Viet friends.
I do remember the first time I remember having pizza. I was in 1st grade at Escambia elementary in Pensacola, FL. There was a Domino's pizza very close to the school. So close that during a field trip there, we walked single file to the store. There I was welcomed by (at that time) a very foreign smell to me. The smell of a pizza shop. Dough, yeast, pizza cooking in the ovens.
Every pizza shop regardless if it's a chain or a local shop has their own smells. Watching and learning how pizza was made (at Dominos) was a very fun and exciting time. We got to make a bunch of pizzas for the class. The first slice I ate was from a pepperoni pizza.
Up until that moment, I have no memory of every eating pizza.
From that moment on until my adult life, every time I have Dominos, it brings me back to that moment in Pensacola. That is the first time I remembered having pizza.
Now has an adult, I have had the pleasure of eating some of the best and some of the worst pizzas in my years.
Another pizza that will always have a soft spot in my heart will be Totino's party pizza. That was the first pizza my mom ever bought for us to eat at home. I remember me and my 3 little sisters getting excited when she would bring some home from the store.
We were so little that 2 of these were enough to feed all 4 of us. Plus being that Totino's was invented IN MN, it will be awarded bonus points for being home brewed. [EDITOR'S NOTE: Tuan grew up in Minnesota.]
Now, Totino's and Domino's are far from being the best pizzas I’ve ever had, but they are indeed memorable to me.
Stephanie Swane
Publisher
Modernist Cuisine
I have a couple but the more recent one is Benny Tudino’s in Hoboken, NJ.
When you walk into the place the smell of a NY slice house hits you straight on and the oven is right when you walk in so you can see what’s coming out and how many slices are in for reheat.
Benny’s was my late night spot after a show at Maxwell’s, hanging out with friends at Louise & Jerry’s on Washington St. or my last stop on my way home from NYC.
The white pie was always my moment of rejoice when I would take that first bite of the slice that’s the size of a pizza box, the ricotta and combo of cheeses melted in my mouth. It was a celebration of the night’s accomplishments in a slice that if it was a great night or a shitty night it was always there for me.
Moving from the West coast where slice shops were rare, this was an amazing adventure and anything open past 11pm that was good was even more difficult to find out west.
Whenever anyone came to town it was always the spot of choice to have a slice either in one of their awesome booths to people watch, to take to go in a pizza box and sit on a bench in the park famous from On the Waterfront on my way home or the rarity waiting the 15 minute walk home to open the box to start devouring a slice.
It’s the whole package of what a NY slice shop meant to me and still does when I want that classic white pie slice – for over 50 years they have kept the party people of Hoboken very happy.
Publisher
Modernist Cuisine
I have a couple but the more recent one is Benny Tudino’s in Hoboken, NJ.
When you walk into the place the smell of a NY slice house hits you straight on and the oven is right when you walk in so you can see what’s coming out and how many slices are in for reheat.
Benny’s was my late night spot after a show at Maxwell’s, hanging out with friends at Louise & Jerry’s on Washington St. or my last stop on my way home from NYC.
The white pie was always my moment of rejoice when I would take that first bite of the slice that’s the size of a pizza box, the ricotta and combo of cheeses melted in my mouth. It was a celebration of the night’s accomplishments in a slice that if it was a great night or a shitty night it was always there for me.
Moving from the West coast where slice shops were rare, this was an amazing adventure and anything open past 11pm that was good was even more difficult to find out west.
Whenever anyone came to town it was always the spot of choice to have a slice either in one of their awesome booths to people watch, to take to go in a pizza box and sit on a bench in the park famous from On the Waterfront on my way home or the rarity waiting the 15 minute walk home to open the box to start devouring a slice.
It’s the whole package of what a NY slice shop meant to me and still does when I want that classic white pie slice – for over 50 years they have kept the party people of Hoboken very happy.
Kevin Godbee
Food Writer & Professional Blogger
My base reference point for pizza is Nino's Pizza and Subs in North Brunswick, NJ. I still remember it as the best pizza I ever had, and every once in a while, I'll find something just as good, and it brings me back to Friday Family Pizza Night at home with family, neighbors and friends, and at least two large pizza boxes open on the table. I didn't have a care in the world except where my next slice of pizza was coming from.
Nino's was (and still is) 2/10th of a mile, or a four minute walk from the house I grew up in, and my family and I ate their pizza all of the time. Antonino “Nino” Bellavia immigrated from Sicily to Brooklyn in 1964. He moved to North Brunswick in 1973 when he opened Nino's Pizza and Subs. He retired in 2008 when his son Tony took over the restaurant, which is still there today in the same spot, but not the same building. (I went to school with Tony. The school bus would actually drop him off at the restaurant rather than home, so I guess he was apprenticing at the time.) Back then, Nino's was a standalone building with a loose flint stone parking lot. Now it's Nino's Plaza - a full strip mall with a paved parking lot and several other stores.
There is a lot of good pizza to be found, but it's harder to find really great pizza. There are two places that I think are the best that bring me back to my childhood.
The first one is aptly named, Best Pizza, 33 Havemeyer St, Brooklyn, NY 11211. The first bite, and you just have to pause and close your eyes. Luckily for me, the other place is a 5-minute car ride from my house. Nicko's Pizza and Subs, 1239 4th St South, St. Petersburg, FL 33701, has been open for just a year and a half, and I had their pepperoni pizza as recently as yesterday, and must have repeated myself five times, "This is sooo good!"
Food Writer & Professional Blogger
My base reference point for pizza is Nino's Pizza and Subs in North Brunswick, NJ. I still remember it as the best pizza I ever had, and every once in a while, I'll find something just as good, and it brings me back to Friday Family Pizza Night at home with family, neighbors and friends, and at least two large pizza boxes open on the table. I didn't have a care in the world except where my next slice of pizza was coming from.
Nino's was (and still is) 2/10th of a mile, or a four minute walk from the house I grew up in, and my family and I ate their pizza all of the time. Antonino “Nino” Bellavia immigrated from Sicily to Brooklyn in 1964. He moved to North Brunswick in 1973 when he opened Nino's Pizza and Subs. He retired in 2008 when his son Tony took over the restaurant, which is still there today in the same spot, but not the same building. (I went to school with Tony. The school bus would actually drop him off at the restaurant rather than home, so I guess he was apprenticing at the time.) Back then, Nino's was a standalone building with a loose flint stone parking lot. Now it's Nino's Plaza - a full strip mall with a paved parking lot and several other stores.
There is a lot of good pizza to be found, but it's harder to find really great pizza. There are two places that I think are the best that bring me back to my childhood.
The first one is aptly named, Best Pizza, 33 Havemeyer St, Brooklyn, NY 11211. The first bite, and you just have to pause and close your eyes. Luckily for me, the other place is a 5-minute car ride from my house. Nicko's Pizza and Subs, 1239 4th St South, St. Petersburg, FL 33701, has been open for just a year and a half, and I had their pepperoni pizza as recently as yesterday, and must have repeated myself five times, "This is sooo good!"
Albert Grande
Global Pizza Ambassador
Founder, PizzaTherapy.com
If I am in Southeastern Ct / Westerly, Rhode Island / Pawcatuck, Rhode Island / there is a person / shop called The Pizza Lady who makes pizza strips. Going to parties at Jon F.'s house he will often order from the shop. Those pizza strips take me back to those childhood days...
You know after much thought, and going through the pizza files in my mind... my favorite childhood pizza memories are from pizza strips in Rhode Island. I was born in Rhode Island and moved to Connecticut when I was 11 or 12. All the relatives lived in Rhode Island and we would go back frequently...These were thin, strips of dough lathered with sauce. You could only find them in bakeries... very unusual and very much a regional pizza.
Global Pizza Ambassador
Founder, PizzaTherapy.com
If I am in Southeastern Ct / Westerly, Rhode Island / Pawcatuck, Rhode Island / there is a person / shop called The Pizza Lady who makes pizza strips. Going to parties at Jon F.'s house he will often order from the shop. Those pizza strips take me back to those childhood days...
You know after much thought, and going through the pizza files in my mind... my favorite childhood pizza memories are from pizza strips in Rhode Island. I was born in Rhode Island and moved to Connecticut when I was 11 or 12. All the relatives lived in Rhode Island and we would go back frequently...These were thin, strips of dough lathered with sauce. You could only find them in bakeries... very unusual and very much a regional pizza.
Chuck Park
Pizza Hobbyist & Fan of Free The Pizza
My "Proustian" pizza, my benchmark that I compare all NY thin crust pizzas to, was from Sante's Restaurant on Central Ave in Greenville (Scarsdale), NY.
It had a simple, tasteful tomato sauce, high-quality mozzarella, and a thin leopard-spotted crust, with charred cornicione bubbles.
Sadly, Sante's has been gone for decades, but I was lucky enough to find a restaurateur who was also a childhood fan of Sante's, and makes Sante's style pizza in his restaurant, Abbatino's in North White Plains, NY.
The owner of Abbatino's worked at Sante's when he was a kid, just before it closed, so his pies are a tribute to Sante's. It's the whole package; the look, the smell, and the taste.
Pizza Hobbyist & Fan of Free The Pizza
My "Proustian" pizza, my benchmark that I compare all NY thin crust pizzas to, was from Sante's Restaurant on Central Ave in Greenville (Scarsdale), NY.
It had a simple, tasteful tomato sauce, high-quality mozzarella, and a thin leopard-spotted crust, with charred cornicione bubbles.
Sadly, Sante's has been gone for decades, but I was lucky enough to find a restaurateur who was also a childhood fan of Sante's, and makes Sante's style pizza in his restaurant, Abbatino's in North White Plains, NY.
The owner of Abbatino's worked at Sante's when he was a kid, just before it closed, so his pies are a tribute to Sante's. It's the whole package; the look, the smell, and the taste.
Honey Parker
Author & #1 Fan of Free The Pizza
Pizza Bite Memory.
A bite that took me back in time came courtesy of my live-in pizzaiolo, Mr. Parker.
The place it took me back to was a restaurant/bar in Northeast Philly called Vitale’s. Think dark wood paneling and servers who’d been there forever. I don’t remember the first time I had a Vitale’s pie because it was a staple of my youth. We’d often go when we visited my dad’s parents, who lived just a few blocks away.
Thin crust, cheese under the sauce. The sauce wasn’t too sweet and the bite on the cheese was completely satisfying. (NOTE: Always add dried oregano on top.) The pizza has become a legend because the pizzaiolo died with the recipe. I know. Tragic.
But the pizza memory I associate most with Vitale’s was the time my older sister and younger brother went on our own. El and I were legal drinking age, but Matt wasn’t. After trying and failing to get a beer (Remember, the staff had been there forever and knew how old my brother wasn’t) he was served a Coke.
My sister was joking about his botched beer attempted and Matt, trying to contain his laughter, shot soda out his nose and onto the pizza. That lead to more laughter, but much harder. And, of course, a fresh pizza.
My family still waxes poetic about this pie. It’s the standard we hold all other pizza to. The fact the Mr. Parker came close is a shocking and delightful.
Author & #1 Fan of Free The Pizza
Pizza Bite Memory.
A bite that took me back in time came courtesy of my live-in pizzaiolo, Mr. Parker.
The place it took me back to was a restaurant/bar in Northeast Philly called Vitale’s. Think dark wood paneling and servers who’d been there forever. I don’t remember the first time I had a Vitale’s pie because it was a staple of my youth. We’d often go when we visited my dad’s parents, who lived just a few blocks away.
Thin crust, cheese under the sauce. The sauce wasn’t too sweet and the bite on the cheese was completely satisfying. (NOTE: Always add dried oregano on top.) The pizza has become a legend because the pizzaiolo died with the recipe. I know. Tragic.
But the pizza memory I associate most with Vitale’s was the time my older sister and younger brother went on our own. El and I were legal drinking age, but Matt wasn’t. After trying and failing to get a beer (Remember, the staff had been there forever and knew how old my brother wasn’t) he was served a Coke.
My sister was joking about his botched beer attempted and Matt, trying to contain his laughter, shot soda out his nose and onto the pizza. That lead to more laughter, but much harder. And, of course, a fresh pizza.
My family still waxes poetic about this pie. It’s the standard we hold all other pizza to. The fact the Mr. Parker came close is a shocking and delightful.
Blaine Parker
Head Geek at Free The Pizza
Yes, that's me and this is my website. So I'm including another of my own key pizza memories.
When I was in my 20s, I was working in England on summer. I was out with a couple of guys from work. We were in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. The pubs had just closed. We were on our way back to our accommodations and passed the chip shop, which was still open. I wasn’t really in the mood for fish and chips, but hey: Open.
I was looking at the menu board, and it said, “Pizza.” And I thought, "That makes no sense. This is a chip shop. The operative word in here is “fried.” I don’t even see an oven."
The woman running the chippy asks what I want. I say, “Do you have pizza?” She says, “How many?”
How many pizzas? I say, “Um, one?”
Without missing a beat, she dives into the chest freezer, whips out a 6-inch frozen pizza, and before I can say anything, WAP! It’s in the deep fryer.
It was fantastic. Cheesy, savory, crusty, crunchy, fatty, salty--all the food groups!
And I’m sure that’s not just the beer talking. It's been over 20 years, and I still remember that pizza distinctly. I've not been courageous enough to try deep-frying a frozen pizza on my own. But pizza fritti, which is a raw pizza folded in half and deep-fried, is very much an Italian thing.
(An Englishman has since told me that deep-fried frozen pizza is a thing in Scotland.)
Head Geek at Free The Pizza
Yes, that's me and this is my website. So I'm including another of my own key pizza memories.
When I was in my 20s, I was working in England on summer. I was out with a couple of guys from work. We were in Cowes on the Isle of Wight. The pubs had just closed. We were on our way back to our accommodations and passed the chip shop, which was still open. I wasn’t really in the mood for fish and chips, but hey: Open.
I was looking at the menu board, and it said, “Pizza.” And I thought, "That makes no sense. This is a chip shop. The operative word in here is “fried.” I don’t even see an oven."
The woman running the chippy asks what I want. I say, “Do you have pizza?” She says, “How many?”
How many pizzas? I say, “Um, one?”
Without missing a beat, she dives into the chest freezer, whips out a 6-inch frozen pizza, and before I can say anything, WAP! It’s in the deep fryer.
It was fantastic. Cheesy, savory, crusty, crunchy, fatty, salty--all the food groups!
And I’m sure that’s not just the beer talking. It's been over 20 years, and I still remember that pizza distinctly. I've not been courageous enough to try deep-frying a frozen pizza on my own. But pizza fritti, which is a raw pizza folded in half and deep-fried, is very much an Italian thing.
(An Englishman has since told me that deep-fried frozen pizza is a thing in Scotland.)