To Be or Not To Be (A Pizza)

So . . . I like pizza. I know this does not exactly make me unique, but I thought it worth saying. I could eat pizza every week, several times a week if I thought I wouldn’t end up looking like I was from South Carolina (I know this is a generalization, but you know how they say that if you want to feel rich, go live in a poor country? Based on my experience driving through the Southeastern U.S., if you want to feel thin, go there).

But my beloved pizza (North American version - let the Italians do what they want with theirs) has been co-opted, and turned into something it never should have. You see, back in my day (which apparently is longer ago than I thought, based on recent experience) there was a finite set of toppings that were permissible for a pizza. Pepperoni, onions, olives, anchovies, mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers, sausage, and if you were feeling a little wild and crazy, pineapple (though this last one was never officially approved the committee, i.e. me). All pizzas had cheese, tomato sauce, and a crust. And life was good.

Then someone, somewhere, decided that pizza could have anything on it! Chicken, broccoli, spinach, tree bark, engine oil, whatever. And cheese? Who needs cheese? While we’re at it, let’s get rid of tomato sauce and replace it with olive oil or cream sauce. And the madness continued, and eventually pizza became something it was never intended to be.

Someone has to put a stop to this insanity. Are you comfortable with the idea that our children will grow up in a world where pizza has such a loose, vague definition? Who will have the courage to stand up and say: “Spinach, tuna, oil and a sprinkling of parmesan on a whole-wheat tortilla? That’s not a pizza!”

Look, I’m not saying that having different toppings on pizza tastes bad, or is unpalatable to all. I’m just saying that it’s not a pizza. Call it something else. Order yourself a ancho steak/lettuce/taco shell pozza, or pizzu, or something like that. Leave the pizza to be a pizza. When I was in China last year I saw (and had to eat due to lack of options) pizzas (from Pizza Hut, no less) that not only didn’t have traditional pizza toppings, but I wasn’t even sure what it was I was eating.

By now you’re probably thinking one of two things. Either you’re in the “Yes! Thank you, Eric, for illuminating this oft-overlooked issue important to society,” or “Wow, I’ve been reading the blog pretty steadily and had no idea he was this kind of crazy.” Either way, you’ve read to this point, so hopefully at least some of my insanity, er, ideas will sink in and provoke thoughts. And the next time you order pizza, skip the shrimp-bokchoy-hoisin option.