On pizza!

I have a confession to make. I live in Italy and until recently I did not like the pizza. On Sunday nights (what I like to call "mamma's night off" when it seems the whole country eats pizza) when friends would say "Let's meet for a pizza!" I'd grudgingly go along.

I grew up in the suburbs and on pan pizza at Pizza Hut (I know, I know - the shame) so my idea of pizza was three parts dough and one part heavily spiced tomato sauce and lots of toppings. Though never pineapple, OK? When I moved to New York, I'd always get a Sicilian slice, which is a nice big bready, crusty hunk of pizza. I lived in New York seven years and I occasionally say "on line" instead of "in line" when referring to queuing up but I just never could bring myself to call a pizza "a pie" and never really ordered that big floppy, cheesy frisbee that many NYC pizzerias sell. So I'm a bit of a reverse pizza snob seeing as though my pizza palate is admittedly not refined having spent my childhood consuming the chain-restaurant stuff and dipping my crust in marinara or garlic sauce. I've heard tell that in the Midwest some people even make "pizza" with those refrigerated Crescent rolls and Miracle Whip mayonnaise instead of tomato sauce though, fortunately, we never sank to those levels in my family. We don't do the jello-and-marshmallow salad either, just for the record.

The first time I had pizza in Milan I was utterly disappointed. The crust was thinner and blander than an unsalted Saltine, the sauce seemed like tomato paste straight out of the can and the vegetables were not freshly cut but dripping with oil having come straight out of the jar. Let's just say that I've had hospital food that is more flavorful than Milanese pizza. Granted, I don't eat cheese and I know that quality mozzarella could make all the difference. Maybe if I ate cheese, I'd be a thin-crust-pizza convert. So I've basically spent eight years avoiding going out for pizza. And the thing that sucks is that pizza is one of the few things that they deliver at home (though the only pizzeria that delivers in my neighborhood - called something like "Speedy Pizza" - takes a couple of hours to bring you your order...) where I live. In those early months of Dylan's life when making dinner was the last thing on my mind, having something delivered would have been really convenient. But I just dislike pizza so much here that I never considered it.

My no-pizza policy ended about a week ago. We discovered a pizzeria that is a cheap yet quaint hole-in-the-wall and makes real Neapolitan pizza, which "non c'entra niente" with that bland Milanese pizza. It satisfies my need for a bready, chewy crust without being obnoxiously thick. The tomato sauce is fresh as are the vegetables and other ingredients. My dining companions attested to the authenticity of the mozzarella. Insomma, it's everything pizza should be. I don't want to publish the address on my blog because really this is a find. We had found another Neapolitan pizzeria a while back that sadly has become a tourist trap and no longer serves the authentic stuff. But if you live in Milan or are going to be in the area, you can e-mail me and I'll give you the address. That is, if I deem you pizza-worthy!