Here’s another short post, but what do you expect? Today is the longest DAY of the year. I am the NIGHT writer. I have very little time today, and just venturing this post now is already hurting my eyes.
Anyway, Peter Welle has a story about finally redeeming his Papa Murphy’s punchcard for a free pizza (“perhaps the greatest single delight known to man”). He’d only been working on that card since 2001.
Personally, I’m just one more lunch buffet visit to Old Chicago short of my own free ‘za fest (so close I can almost taste it, you might say) … but I’ve held that status for about seven months now, ever since my pizza-partner and liberal foil, the Beast From the East, moved to Texas (when I heard Dick Cheney had shot someone while he was in Texas, I initially thought it had to have been the Beast). I hate to buffet by myself because I need a “sponsor” to keep me from going overboard.
Anyway, Peter’s long wait and my own deferred gratification both pale in comparison to the 25+ year interval between the times I could enjoy my all-time favorite pizza. That would be a Noble Roman’s Sicilian Deep Dish pizza, which was a staple of my teen years when I lived in Indianapolis. Zesty, cheesy, perfect in every way except that Noble Roman’s is a chain with very few links. A few years ago, however, I was back in Indy on business and I was delighted to see a Noble Roman’s near where I was staying.
With excitement and some trepidation (how might things have changed in the long interval?) I called in an order and went to pick it up. Oh, the smells as I walked into the place! Barely able to contain myself, I quivered in anticipation as the sweet young thing behind the counter fetched my distinctive box and brought it to me with a big smile.
“Ah,” I said, “I can’t wait. I haven’t had one of these Sicilian Deep Dish pizzas in 25 years!”
“Really?” she said (or, more accurately, “Ree-allly?”) “Where have you been?”
I was suddenly possessed by deviltry. Without pausing a beat I just looked at her and matter-of-factly said, “Prison.”
Omigaw, I thought her retainer was going to fall out as her jaw and eyebrows went in opposite directions. Boy, did I get my change back really fast! Which was okay, because it allowed me to get the reunion started that much quicker.
It was every bit as good as I remembered, too!
*sheds a tear*
I’m so proud.
Awww man… I just lived vicariously through you in that post.
I almost tasted the pizza.
The notion of the perfect pizza is both universal and peculiar. That is, many of us can relate to this post, though we may all have a different idea of what the perfect pizza is.
And that pie may show up in the most unusual of places. Indianapolis? Who knew? For me, the greatest place is in Kalamazoo-zoo-zoo, at Bilbos Pizza in a Pan. Thick crust. Slightly sweet. Generous amounts of cheese and sauce … heck, a river of each …. Half a small portion, plus a small salad, is enough for the evening, leaving plenty for the next day.