MMmmm, DiGiorno

The Basest of Baselines: Pizza Means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry

I have long been a pizza addict. It has gotten so bad that at one point I could be found drooling over a pepperoni pizza Lean Pocket, fake cheese guilt dripping from the corner of my mouth. I live in the pizza capital of the country, so you would think I wouldn’t have to resort to mortifying measures to locate the most amazing pizza on short notice.

You would be thinking wrong.

That’s right, I said it. I have been disappointed in NYC pizza for at least the last two years. In fact, in the past two years the best pizza I have burnt the roof of my mouth with was at Luigi’s in Akron, Ohio. Yes, Akron. (Don’t you dare judge them by their website. They’re too busy making pizza so good you would make rough unforgivable love to a pony in order to squeeze it into your face to maintain a fancy website.)

So let’s set the bar. I can’t say one pizza is better than the other without having a base line of comparison, right? The baseline is set at DiGiorno. I mean, look at it — the crust is fat and crusty with a chewy soft center. The sauce and the cheese are perfectly dispersed and in the right proportions and you only have your ignorant self to blame if you burn it. The amount of pepperoni is never too much or too little. And the best part is, you can crouch over it at the kitchen counter while you weep silent bitter lonely tears as you pound mouthful after mouth-singing mouthful past your teeth, unjudged. And by you I mean me.

Think about it: If your pizza — your designer truffle-oil trickled, hipster heirloom-tomato moistened, sausage-from-only-the-most-stable-minded pig unfettered by fencing and other not-as-desirable porkers is less enjoyable than DiGiorno — it’s time to consider animal husbandry.

I welcome you on my journey through a life made more colorful, a bit more chubby, with pizza. Up next? Luigi’s pizza from Ohio, The Heart of it All.

photo by Kelly Samardak