Peace Of Pizza

By Dobie Maxwell –

   Who have you ever met in your entire life that doesn’t like pizza? I can’t think of anyone in all my days who has ever told me they didn’t care for it, and I hope I never do. I’m sure there has to be somebody somewhere who may pass on partaking in the pleasure of piping hot pie, but that’s not someone I’d purport to call a pal. As for me and my pedigree, pizza has a prominent perch.

Unfortunately, there are as many personal peccadilloes in pizza procedures as there are people on the planet. Powerful passionate pleas of preference are part of the package, and pinheads who possess peculiar palate propensities become perpetual pariahs. This is a pert petition for peace.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to settle on anything, but let’s at least open the floor for a bit of discussion. There are so many points of potential provocation I don’t know where to start. It’s a powder keg of potential poison I want to approach with purpose, not a pigheaded point of view.

Living in Lake County, IL has put me even closer to the great pizza debate that has been linked to Chicago for years. Which is best, thick crust or thin? Chicago style pizza is thick crust, and the subject isn’t open to opinion. When you order a pizza, you get a cinder block with toppings on it.

Growing up in Wisconsin, deep dish pizza was something exotic and mysterious we only heard about – like leprechauns, unicorns or people who didn’t know how to play cribbage or deer hunt. I never tried deep dish pizza until I moved to Chicago in 1984, and it wasn’t something I took to.

I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t pizza to me. It’s just like Taco Bell. I don’t hate that either, but it’s certainly not Mexican food. It’s its own entity, and so is Chicago style pizza. I’ve acquired a love for places like Lou Malnati’s, Gino’s East, Giordano’s and the like since I’ve moved south of the border, but when I get a hankering for pizza it’s got to be thin crust. Sorry, that’s just how I feel.

Not everyone will agree, but it’s going to get worse when the topic of toppings is tossed out for toxic talk points. Everyone likes what they like, and most people won’t bend an inch to another’s wishes. It’s like the Mason/Dixon line when someone orders half pepperoni or sausage or any of a number of ingredients that are considered normal on a pizza. Cross that line and a battle starts.

Then there’s the matter of slicing the actual pizza itself. Is it sliced in squares like I was used to growing up, or is it sliced in triangles? Personally, I like triangles because every slice has a piece of crust and it’s easier to eat when it’s hot. But that’s me. Others will insist on squares. I give up.

And don’t even try to bring up putting pineapple and/or ham on a pizza. I lived out west for a few years and that’s how they do it there. Maybe it’s that thin mountain air that restricts blood flow from the brain to the taste buds, but I could never get used to that. I’m glad I’m back in the Midwest, but pizza is still a delicate subject I try to avoid at parties like politics or religion. Unless there’s pizza at that party – then it becomes the topic of conversation. All I am saying is – give pizza peace a chance.

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