It Had to Happen Sometime...

If it hasn't happened to you yet, it will. You and I will be somewhere, perhaps a party, perhaps the grocery store parking lot, maybe a lazy day stroll, or a marathon shopping trip, possibly it will be in my own home lingering over a glass of white wine. I can't tell you when or where, but it will happen. There we will be engaged in conversation when somehow you will bring it up. It will likely be innocent, possibly playful, never vicious, no matter though, there it will be.You'll see the change in my eyes, my mannerisms; you won't quite know how to read me, what's happening to Aimee. Her eyes are as round as saucers, her face is turning so red. I'll try to practice self control, as we experts do, but finally, I won't be able to hold back my knowledge and my opinions.

"What was that?" I might start, "You say you've never tasted anything better than a Margarita Pizza from the California Pizza Kitchen? Did I hear that right?" If other people are around, people who are privy to my paramount pizza palette, they will start to inch slowly out of the room. You might notice it, but it won't register until it's a little too late. Now I'm the one doing the inching, inching closer to you, so close you feel the air in the room growing thin. I'll edge closer still, my teeth clenched in a very polite New England smile. "I'm sorry, would you just repeat that? Did you just suggest we order Domino's?" Don't fret, that's not anger you are seeing in my eyes, oh no, it's sheer pity. Poor ignorant fool, it's likely you have never been East of Pittsburgh. (A quick and loving note to my Chicago friends the deep-dish is a fantastic invention to be discussed at another time-apples and oranges).

See "back East" we enjoy something called REAL PIZZA! And it has become this girl's quest, some might say obsession, to find it. Here's the thing, I had no idea that good pizza was a regional gig. It's just not something we talked about in our family. Sure, mom and dad claimed to be open--ask me anything they'd say, but when it came to warning me about the pizza deprivation I might face, well their lips were sealed. I understand, there are some things that parents just can't prepare their child for and bad pizza is one of them. Still, I should have known, all the signs were there. Let's rewind about 14 years, I was visiting my now in-laws in Colorado. They ordered pizza one night, but I just thought we got a bum pizza. I didn't know this was the standard fare. Then the next visit the same thing. Over the years I developed a false belief that my in-laws had stock in some second-rate pizza company and that is why we never got a real ,piping hot, quality pizza. I feel so guilty for thinking such things, but really I was so naive then. I didn't even catch on when I once heard my father-in-law telling the story about his first visit to Boston. He was walking around the North End and all these people were eating huge slices of pizza. He noticed they were all folding their slices so he did it, too. He was pretty passionate, calling the whole experience, "fascinating". I should have known at that moment that I had something special going tucked up in the Northeast. I just never put two and two together. That is until I moved to Washington.

Now before you get your umbrellas in a bunch, I am not dissing Washington. This state has a lot of bragging rights, but alas, pizza isn't one of them. Of course, there are pockets of good pizza places, but you shouldn't have to try so hard to find one. If my calculations are correct, and you know they are, there is 1 good pizza place for every 17.2 mediocre pizza places and 38 bad places.* Tonight I wanted good pizza, so I drove 20 minutes one way to pick up a pizza from Tony's in Bremerton. Tony's makes me happy, they get the crust almost perfect, there are bubbles in the pizza, the cheese/sauce ratio is usually right, when it's hot everything starts to slide right off (yes this is a good sign my friends) and the slices are perfect folding size. Tonight the pizza was a little greasier than I would like, but my word, that's why there are paper napkins out there people--a little dab will do ya!

You have to eat a lot of bad pizza to find a gem. And sometimes the gems are in the most unexpected places.Yesterday, on our road trip, we stopped at Cape Disappointment State Park on the Washington coast. As we swung the family truckster into the parking lot we noticed a little pizza stand on wheels called Serious Pizza. Mike and I were just oozing with feelings of pity for the campers gathered round that pizza stand. Heck, we just had McDonald's in Asotria and these poor folks were stuck here at Serious Pizza. No wonder they call this place Cape Disappointment. Then we caught a better look. There was a real wood oven! My eyes darted over to the pizza as it passed from cook to camper--it looked perfect! I could taste it from my seat. If I hadn't just eaten, or let's face it, if no one knew I had just eaten, I would have pulled a Yogi Bear and snatched that pizza out from under those campers' noses. We decided then and there that we will be vacationing there next summer. Didn't even get a glimpse at the beach or the campsites. But the truth is, who needs high quality amenities when you have good pizza. You say Cape Disappointment, I say Cape Delicious.

On the topic of pizza I could go on and on, and I will, I promise you. Just because you've read this blog doesn't get you off the hook. Sure, it will buy you some time, but we're not through here. You might try to outsmart me by writing it down on your list of things never to discuss with Aimee (I'd like to see that list by the way and I am going to go ahead and suggest you add adverbs to it if you haven't yet), but there will come a day when you slip up. And when you say the "P" word, get ready for me to unleash my wisdom East Coast Style.


*I am working feverishly on an official equation and once I own the rights to said equation I will publish it right here on the Squeaky Voice. :)