Pizza is good, a gift from the gods. We eat enough pizza to keep a cabin full of junior high boys happy for a week. And we eat it from everywhere. Pizza Hut. Papa Murphy's. Homemade. Luigi's did reign supreme until Papa John's moved in, so now we have two favorites.
Tonight it's Papa John's. Half cheese, half pepperoni & mushroom (I cannot wait to be able to eat red meat again). Top it off with a BudLight Lime. The second to last one. And if SHH (scorching hot husband) doesn't get home soon, there will be no BudLight Limes left.
Eating pizza with my husband takes me back to our days of dating in high school. Date night consisted of mushroom and pepperoni pizza with a garlic crust from Hungry Howie's. Husband had them on speed dial.
Pizza also makes me think of my parents. My father is the quintessential New York pizza lover. If it's not New York style pizza, it's not pizza. I have spent my life in search of the perfect pizza outside of New York. Interestingly enough, it's in Parkersburg, West Virginia. My parents took my brothers and I there when we were little, and when they want to go for a drive, it's still to that great pizzeria. I don't even know the actual name of the restaurant; we just always referred to it as "Parkersburg Pizza."
When we wanted local pizza, though, my dad always trekked to the Adrian Small. He loved mall pizza and it was a pretty good deal. They knew us by name and it was always the same order: large pepperoni. It was soooo greasy and so big and soooo good.
In college, the only time I got pizza outside of the caf was when the parental units came to visit. We'd go to Round Table (good pizza, ridiculously overpriced) and we would order a larger pizza than we could eat, so I could have leftovers. Mom was always worried about me eating in college, especially after I went through a period of time where I couldn't eat certain foods. Pizza she knew I could eat, so pizza I was stocked up on (including those $1.00 Totinos pizzas from the frozen food section).
Someday I would love to travel to Italy to have authentic pizza. I understand it's really different, but I'm no pizza snob. I prefer to think of myself as a pizza connoisseur.
For now, we buy our own pizza because I cannot make it to save my life. I mean I can but it just isn't the same. If I use premade pizza crust from Winco, it's much better. But on a Friday after being screamed at, cursed at, hung up on and generally just annoyed, I need to NOT be in the kitchen. Shoot driving to pick up the pizza is already too much work. And recently I discovered I can order online, pay and then pick up. I know, it's screams lazy, but again, you spend 40 hours a week at a collection agency and then come home and see how you feel about cooking. So you keep your high and mightiness and I'll point and click my way to dinner.