Pizza Fix!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

I've been wanting pizza for more than a year now; 'wanting' in the way that a drug addict 'wants' another fix. When I think of what I miss from back home, my thoughts focus on my mother, brothers and sisters and a few friends.Those thoughts of loved ones last only a few seconds, before an extra-large pizza appears on the screen of my mind, blotting out all other thoughts and visions. Sometimes the pie has pepperoni; sometimes it's a Hawaiian, and often it's a pizza with white sauce, chicken and three kinds of cheese. I can see those cheeses clearly. The ricotta is pure white. It's creamy and light with a hint of curdle to it. The taste? Mild and delicious. And then there's mozzarella, the mainstay of pizza and there is no acceptable substitute for good quality when it comes to mozzarella. The creamy white is..... Oh my gosh! I'm not writing a food review here! Ha! I was taken off course by my vision. Never mind.

I hail from Massillon, Ohio, which has enough pizza places and beer joints to service the entire state. Massillon's claim to fame is its football team. But its players are big and beefy because of pizza, washed down with a cold brew - usually Budweiser, but I don't hold that against them.Teenage boys think it rounds them out as potentials for professional sports stardom.

Pizza is a complete food. I read that once. Maybe I was the one who wrote it. I can't remember, but it doesn't matter. Its good enough for me  The mere fact that it's in print makes it believable, which is a strong persuasion for it's truthfulness.  Fact is, there's never been a clinical study to refute the nutritional value of pizza. If you don't believe me, look up 'pizza' under "Clinicaltrials.gov." And there's evidence that any kind of pizza, sprinkled with powdered aspirin, helps alleviate a head ache. (It's a recipe I got from a beer-guzzling halfback, as a sure cure for the 'day after'.)

All bullshit aside, (don't believe it!) I am completely and wonderfully satisfied, more so than I've been for a long time. Don't tell my wife, though. Filipinas are known for their jealous natures and my wife is pure Filipina, to the bone. Sounds kind of silly, I suppose, to suggest that her jealous nature might be roused into a pique over a pizza. But I'm not taking a chance. Someday, maybe just one particularly wonderful day, I can be eating pizza in bed with my wife, Emelie, while we are... Oh, don't get your minds all wrapped up in a pornographic, sauce-licking vision of melted cheese on a hard salami pizza! (Is there such a thing? Should be.)

I can't think of anything else to write, so I'll just kick back and digest what I ate. I hope you can do the same with what you just read.