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Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Pizza is the Only Love Triangle I Want

Pizza is magic. To me the word pizza always conjured New York, or at least escape from my life to the magical kingdom of my birth (and the pull to return to New York was a life-long instinct).


I grew up in Puerto Rico and back in the days I was living there, there were not a lot of pizzerias nearby–not that I was allowed to hangout or eat junk food (and, certainly, my grandmother would define pizza as “junk”).

I think the first slice of pizza I ever had was from a shop in the Bronx and I was about five. I’m pretty sure it was after a visit to the Bronx Zoo. That I remember it so clearly lends credence to it being the precedent. The memory may have more to do with the fact that I’d spend a whole day involved in a wild adventure with Mom. But the memory is also very specific about the flaky crust, the tangy sauce and its melodic marriage with cheese.

But I distinctly remember slices of pizza from little Italy, from Coney Island, from the theater district, from Wall Street, from the Yupper East Side and from El Barrio, from the West Side and from Chelsea. Each slice heaven in its own right.


I have great memories of pizza runs in Jersey City – where I almost relocated when I was 11 years old. One of my cousin’s classmates worked at the pizzeria on the way to school, Journal Square, McCrory’s, the movies, the roller skating rink, or even the record store (if you veered a few times).

When I moved back to New York, Brooklyn pizza loomed large in my social life because apparently there is a level of freedom teenagers attach to their ability to hang out at a pizzeria. You meet there after school, you take your dates there, and you wind down movie night at the pizzeria. Pizza is a self-contained food group for growing high school boys!


In college, leaving campus for a slice of pizza across the tracks from the Long Island Railroad was a special treat. As students, we had to pool our limited cash reserves to meet the munchies, and sometimes resorted to calling an order to non-existing rooms or wings at the dorms so we could “grab” the “undeliverable” pizza at a discount.

Then, when I started working and we moved to Bay Ridge, I ended up in an area where you had a church and pizzeria in almost every other block! In the city, I tried to taste pizza in every new neighborhood I visited. 


And yes, we visited every Ray’s Pizza, had a slice in each, and danced back to each establishment for good measure (though in that battle the true winner was John’s but that’s old news; you may read about that whole kerfuffle here).

I once had pizza in Connecticut but I wasn’t impressed (somewhere in the vicinity of the naval submarine base). Though the first time I had pizza in Boston it was awesome – delicious and magical, a white Christmas made better by a slice that was a meal in itself! I had a slice in Vermont. It was okay. I think there was a quick slice in Rhode Island, but it was just alright. I had a slice in Montreal and that one was pretty tasty (beat the heck out of Connecticut).

There are at least two dozen pizzerias within walking distance and plenty more that deliver (not Domino’s but mom and pop shops that have been part of our community). There is a Papa John’s next door to a pizzeria that has been in the neighborhood over 30 years (how rude is that?!).


Now that we have a bread machine, I intend to make my own pizza dough, and it occurred to me that I need not be limited in pizza any more than I allow in other favorite dishes. My first pizza has been on stand-by as we’re curtailing dairy for the moment. Instead of the traditional red sauce, the planned pie included ricotta with spinach and artichokes and sausage, Mozzarella and shaved Gouda.


Of course, I started collecting some fun recipes that I want to try (alternate sauces to the traditional, meat red sauce). I realize not all of you will have a bread machine, so I have tried to provide variety in as many ways as possible (you can use already made dough or improvise, create plant-based doughs, pizza invites creativity). Go check it out! Let’s make pizza.