RECENTLY the Tribune reported the story of a young man who won a $2,000wager by eating one pizza per day during the month of April. I found itboth fascinating and infuriating. It's infuriating because I reside with the one and only Pizza Boywhose gastronomic achievements in the field of pizza eating eclipsesthat of a man who devours but one pizza each day for a month...and onethat has only 30 days!
Pizza Boy,16, eats at least one pizza each day of the year,unless,heaven forbid, mom can't get to Jewel to replenish his stash. When thathappens his eyes glaze over and he becomes even more incoherent than theaverage 16 year old. Pizza withdrawal is not pretty to witness. Pizza Boy's story has extra toppings. He won't accept just any frozen pizza.Those of you who might be of the belief that all these products tastebasically the same will get an argument from Pizza Boy. He contendsthere is no frozen pizza like a Jewel Frozen Pizza. Plain Cheese. Whowould've thought that a grocery chain that devotes acres of shelf spaceto all manner of food and supplies would specialize in the manufacturingof the perfect pizza? To Pizza Boy,the making of his favorite food is a ritual. Hecarefully peels off the plastic and discards it anywhere he pleases (heis, after all,16) and then removes it from its cardboard bed ,handlingit as if it were a precious gem. Flecks of frozen cheese dot the kitchentable like confetti befitting the celebration taking place.
Twenty minutes before,the oven was turned on-- for no pizzamust be deposited until said oven is exactly at 450 degrees.Pizza Boychecks the temperature as meticulously as if he is in the lab splittingan atom (which he is more likely to do than split the cooked pizza.)Hereverently places the pizza onto the oven grill sans pan and sets atimer which will go off in precisely 11 minutes. He walks awayreluctantly,allowing the oven to work its cheese melting magic.
The tools of his trade are his portable tray,pizza cutterand CNN, all in place when the timer tinkles,signalling that his pizzahas met its destiny.With reverence he removes it from its heatedconfinement,inspecting it to be sure a bit of burning has taken placeatop it.His impatience won't allow much cooling time.He rests it on thecardboard from whence it came (whence???) and carries it with therespect afforded popes and presidents into the living room.His pizzacutter need only make one cut down the middle ,he lifts a half to hismouth ,takes a large bite and he is home in a land where a warmcrust,melted cheese,sauce and salt make life so much more worth living. This ritual takes place daily at our house and not just in April.The stained pizza cutter rests in the sink,the crumbs ,the foldedcardboard,relics of a once great meal are littered about in his wake. Imight give Pizza Boy the $2000 if he just starts to include cleaning upafter himself as part of this odd ritual.
