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No Place Like Home

“We carry our homes within us, which enables us to fly.” John Cage

As the 4th of July weekend approached I was feeling restless, my brain held hostage by an exhausting work-week and an ever-broadening list of “daddy duties”.  I was bored with Madison. I wanted to run, to get free, to feel like a kid.  I wanted summer fun; a glistening sun, a pine-laden horizon, friends, fireworks and some great pizza (that’s a given).

I wanted that sense of freedom that arises when you get out into the country or dunk yourself into greenish-blue Wisconsin lake water; resurfacing with a rush—a swirl of adolescent giddiness.  That feeling of leaning back and looking into a vibrant blue sky blotted with fluffy, pillow-like clouds; your day-to-day tensions melting away like sidewalk chalk in the rain.

Most of all I wanted the excitement of seeing my favorite people and eating my favorite pizza. The question is then, where can I capture all these classic 4th of July feels in the same spot?

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Going home. 

Tess and I got a sitter for Ellis (Thanks Mom!) and ventured back to our old stomping grounds Whitewater WI. for the 4th of July, with our eye out for everything I’d been daydreaming of, especially my crème de la crème of Wisconsin pizza: Gus’ Pizza Palace.

If you know me or have read any of my stuff you may realize that Gus’ is not just any old pizza to me; it’s the best pizza, my favorite pizza. The all-time greatest pizza. It’s the rule—the measure—the standard by which I judge all pizza.

For the longest time, I was nervous to even write about Gus’ because it’s so special to me, I was worried about whether or not I would be able to do it justice. Or, worse yet, what if it had changed in some way.  I’ve only had the chance to eat it a handful of times since moving, but I figured I’d try to let the legend shine.

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Confession: I went to Gus’ twice in one day.

If you grew up in Whitewater, you undoubtedly know the passion and loyalty that the locals share for their Gus’ pizza.  It’s the gold standard for small-town, thin crust, cheesy pizza, sliced up in squares since 1962.  That’s right, it’s a legacy, it’s been whipped up by the same family using top-secret family recipes for 56 years (way to go guys!).

For Whitewater folk, it’s lovingly known as “Greasy Gus'”. 

Though they keep their formulas confidential, my conspiracy theory has it that the legendary grease factor is due to them using slices of mozzarella instead of shredded like most pizza places.  When the cheese melts in their old-school deck-ovens, the grease collects on top of the slices and creates this delicious blend of grease, melty cheese, and sauce.  I’ve had no other pizza that accomplishes this unique consistency. It’s bliss.

The crust is super thin—cracker thin and has a hand pinched rim that is efficient in holding an excessive, greasy pool of cheese.  The crust is like a little floury canyon. (Ahh, writing this makes me want to dive right in).

unnamedSimplicity and home go hand-in-hand for me.  With my Gus’ I follow suit; I want the pizza in it’s most pristine form: cheese. I’m a sucker for good quality cheese pizza.  I want to bask in the harmony of the cheese, sauce, and crust; let them join together and do a  sacred dance.  If a pizza place can’t get plain cheese right, then I see no future.

Tess often goes for green olives or we’ll share a pizza with gyro meat on it with a side of tzatziki sauce (their gyros are bomb by the way, meat carved from the spit and all).  I’ve heard rave reviews of topping combinations all over the map; from black olives and feta (put on after it’s cooked), to bacon and onion, to onion, green pepper, extra sauce, extra cheese, the infamous Gus’ Special and as I previously mentioned my friend who will give his right arm for beef, bacon, sausage.  I’ve even heard the old-timers talk about the joy of shrimp on their Gus’.

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Gus’s in recent years also got into the cheese-sticks biz to stay competitive in the college market and their sticks are holy wow, topped with at least a quarter inch of mozzarella, definitely among my top 3 three cheese-sticks (that’s a whole separate blog post).  Also, I just gotta say potato wedges, do it.

 

My 4th of July fuzzies wouldn’t be complete without Gus’. 

Just like home, Gus’ is one place that seems to be a constant in a world that’s always changing; it’s one thing all my old friends and family still share in common. For almost 60 years they’ve stuck to their guns and for the most part, the product goes unscathed (though I always remembered more cheese, my grandma agrees).

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Cheese-sticks

In my glory days, I remember the goal for my friends and I on the 4th was to throw the biggest party we could, now it’s scrounging for babysitters and exchanging parenting tips (did you try this new swaddle!?).  That’s what makes life exciting, it’s constantly evolving as we are.

Phil Knight the founder of Nike says in his biography “Life is growth. Business is growth, You grow or you die.”  Whether it’s new additions to our families or nuances to our holiday traditions; we get reminders every day that everything changes, yet there is a resemblance, a fragment of the past that we can cherish.  That’s Gus’ for me.

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Potato Wedges.

What pizza taught me:

Simply going home can be all the negotiation our nagging mind needs in order to chill itself out.  It’s been six years since I left Whitewater and everything feels different but familiar at the same time. There will always be a part of me that finds comfort in going home and Gus’ is a piece of that history.  I hope everybody has a place like that.

What I’m eating: Gus’ cheese pizza, gyro meat pizza with side of tzatziki, cheese-sticks, wedges

What I’m reading:  Shoe Dog: A Memoir by the Creator of Nike –Phil Knight

 

 

 

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To Find Excellent Pizza, Accept Pizza.

“Good luck is nothing but preparedness and opportunity coming together” -Deepak Chopra

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Navigating through life and finding a new favorite pizza place can share the same anxieties, lessons and triumphs.  I uncovered this several years ago after I relocated to Madison, Wisconsin for work and found myself equal parts excited and overwhelmed. I had the stress of a new job, new living arrangements and the biggest challenge of all; discovering which pizza place would become “my new pizza place”?

Pizza compels me.

I should start out by explaining that I absolutely love pizza, more than most things. Everyone knows I have a serious passion for pizza, my friends tease me about it, my co-workers regularly inquire about it, my wife’s embarrassed by it, and my parents seem confused over it.  I crave it all the time and every week build anticipation for my next pizza adventure. So, this whole idea may seam trivial, but pizza, in my opinion is one of life’s finest pleasures.

Gus’ Pizza in Whitewater, Wisconsin is my all-time favorite pizza.  It’s very thin, cut in squares and really cheesy.  In my opinion close to the perfect pizza composition.

Off to my new home.

As I set off for Madison I had nerves about adapting to a new home, it was my first time moving away from the small town I grew up in.  I had traveled a bit and I knew I would adjust and probably come to love it, but at the end of the day I also wanted a good piece of pizza.

Though I had many things on the table, I would commonly find myself asking “How was anything around here going to compete with Gus’ pizza?”  “Who’s going to have a little hand pinched crust like them?” “What place would deliver that borderline excessive amount of cheese?”

Gus’ and their cracker thin crust had transformed into the security of back home, it was a warm a quilt of high quality mozzarella snuggling me in, delicate hints of basil assuring me I’d be ok.  Worse than that, Gus’ had become the metric by which I was judging all other pizza.

I had put Gus’ pizza on a pedestal.

What I was really asking is “How can a new pizza restaurant compete with the idea of Gus’ pizza” I’ve created in my mind?”

In my first few weeks in Madison, what do you know?  I tried too hard to replicate that cheesy cracker thin-crust I missed from Gus’ back home.  Often, I would force a solution: I would order thin-crust pizza from a notorious deep-dish pizza place, then walk away in disappointment because it didn’t live up to expectations.  I would order chain pizza with extra cheese to mimic the “hole in the wall” pizza I craved so much.  I was forcing outcomes into square “tavern style party cuts”.

Then I learned to let go.

I’m an avid reader, especially into mindfulness, behavioral psychology, personal development, leadership etc.  Through my extra curricular learning, I found how to enjoy myself and enjoy pizza even more.

I discovered how to take delight in an experience and let it soak in, the new pizza along the way was a perk. I started reaching out of my comfort zone and trying new varieties of pizza and savoring every bit of the uniqueness they brought.   Along the way I found new favorites and created fond memories.  And of course I found new favorite spots.

What pizza taught me:

When I attached to a specific result in my pizza quests I set myself up for disappointment.  The pictures I created in my mind of how I wanted situations to play out, created unrealistic expectations and often left me feeling like things didn’t go my way.  By opening up my mind to alternative options and to the infinite ways life can go, I felt the real joy of living.  I was free to ebb and flow with the world and let opportunities present themselves.

We should all invite change and different experiences and enjoy them for what they are. I have to force myself to do this everyday, but the results are worth it.  You will be able to seize unforeseen opportunities because you won’t be set on one specific outcome. Know what you want, detach from the result, enjoy the moment and just be; you will find what you’re looking for.

  • What I’m eating: Rosati’s, Madison West, super thin crust (yes, that’s an option) extra cheese, pepperoni.
  • What I’m reading: “The Happiness Hypothesis”-Jonathan Haidt

The Perfect Bite

“The five senses are the ministers of the soul” -Leonardo Di Vinci

The first bite of a slice is a fantastic experience for all five senses. 

From the moment you open that warm box and get a waft of garlic, basil, buttery cheese, and cardboard, it’s undeniable your sense of smell, sight, sound, touch, and taste are in for an epic treat.

It all begins, as your eyes flicker back and forth making an initial scan for the best slice—searching for the piece where the toppings fall in the just the right places—the perfect pepperoni count—maybe even one with those pepperoni slivers that get lodged in the extra cheese that spills into the canyons created by the pizza cutter.

Next, you gingerly pick up your chosen slice.  You pinch a dry corner of flour-dusted crust—you can feel the heat emitting from the molten cheese and grease that sieges it.

You let out a gentle, whispered blow, your mouth slightly whistling as your breath sends steam rolling off of it—simultaneously cooling it down and speeding up eating time.

Finally, the best part, your sensory pleasure cruise crescendos as you open up wide and your teeth and gums plunge into melty cheese—unleashing grease that graces the roof of your mouth.  The sauce and toppings mix as your lips close around them—all of the elements merging together into a harmonious collision.  The lapping of your tongue fusing together the flavors into a compacted ball of pizza mush with each gyration of your jaw.

There’s nothing quite like that first bite and usually, it’s gone before I think twice.

Recently I witnessed my 1-year-old son frantically scarfing down his dinner as fast as humanly possible.  Prior to that, for about half an hour, he had whined for it, moaned and groaned for it and then as soon as he had it, down it went in the blink of an eye.

“Slow down and enjoy it, buddy” I commented.

Then, I paused and pondered those words for a second: slow down and enjoy it?  

I thought about when I get that pizza box in front of me and my taste buds are about to be stormed with a deluge of salty goodness, I quite often go HAM and just devour it all as well.

Maybe I’m the one who needs to slow down?

Shouldn’t I savor my favorite moments?

Perhaps I could reach new levels of pizza eating enjoyment if I just paid more attention?

Taking that first bite to another level. 

Best-selling author and reformed stock market manipulator Jordan Belfort (portrayed by Leonardo Dicaprio in the film The Wolf of Wall Street (no worries, he says he only uses his powers for good now)) takes that idea one step further in his recent book on persuasion Way of the Wolf.

In the book, he describes a process called “neuro-linguistic programming” in which he explains we can achieve a primed state on demand by honing in on our senses while in a moment of success.  The theory says that we can condition ourselves using sensory experiences to create behavioral patterns.

In essence, it works by connecting powerful emotions to memories, similar to the way we get the warm and fuzzies when we smell fresh cut grass in the summer, cookies around Christmas or pizza straight from the oven.  When we experience those sensations we get transported right back to the time we enjoyed them.

So, the idea behind Belfort’s concept is to manufacture that effect by concentrating on the most intricate details of the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings when we are in “the zone”.  By doing that we can create a connection or an “anchor” to that moment.  We can then call upon that “anchor” by using whatever sensation we connected it to and in doing so trigger our A-game when we need it.

So, looks like I’m carrying around pizza seasoning in my pocket from now on.

What pizza taught me:

I don’t know if romanticizing pizza will help me reach my ideal state, but slowing down and cherishing that first bite made me realize how close to perfection pizza already is.

What I’m eating: Marco’s Pizza: hand-tossed old world pepperoni pizza

What I’m reading:  Jordan Belfort Way of the Wolf: Straight Line Selling: Master the Art of Persuasion, Influence, and Success

Slowing My Rolls

“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves”-Viktor Frankl

I could eat pizza every day and at one point in my life, I did.

It all started my freshman year of college when I first realized the freedom of being on my own.  I could stay out as late as I wanted, sleep in as late as I wanted and eat pizza anytime I wanted.

And why not eat it all the time?  After all, it’s cheap, it’s easy, it’s versatile—a great breakfast, lunch or dinner (on many occasions I made it was all three).

I got along just fine eating pizza at every whim for quite some time too.  Living in a college town made it quite easy:  I had Gus’ Monday, Rocky’s Tuesday, Rosa’s Wednesday and Toppers Thursday.  Life was good.

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Then one day, just past my mid-twenties with the thrill of college life behind me, I noticed that some of the favorite clothes started to feel a little snug.  Shirts I had worn for years, filled with nostalgia no longer fit like they used to and my pants were getting tight in all the wrong places.

After a while, my mirror reflection was confirming what my constricting shirts and inner self-consciousness were:  The metabolism of my youth could no longer keep up; the daily pizzas were going straight to my hips, belly, chin, butt, arms, and back.  I was getting…..husky.

Slowing my rolls. 

Before long it was apparent that my diet needed to change and with a passion for pizza as strong as mine saying goodbye would be no easy feat.  The thought of losing the warmth and security of my old friend shot a ripple of anxieties through me.

What would I have left to look forward to?

Would dinner even be any fun anymore?

Would this mean I’d have to go grocery shopping?  And cook? 

Though I was apprehensive I knew the only way back from the belly I’d created and was to ease up on the cheese and dough.  I would need the discipline to pass on the late night deliveries and skip the leftover breakfast slices.

To curb my pizza habit I would have to figure out how to embrace change.  Looking back, the guide to making those changes may have been right in the blue and red pizza box on my post-college apartment table.

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Dominos.

The first pizza place that comes to mind when I think of change is Dominos.  For as long as I can remember Dominos has been innovating their menu—sometimes gently following the trends of other chain behemoths like Pizza Hut (introducing pan crust), other times aggressively jerking the wheel to save face (revamping their hand-tossed crust).

From twisty bread in the 90’s to those breadstick loaves in the 2000s to the parmesan bread bites and full circle back to the current garlic bread twists, Dominos is always evolving.  There’s practically a different Dominos menu for every phase of my life.

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My favorite time in Dominos history was in High School when they had the “Beat the clock” medium special in which the price of the pizza matched the time you called—my friends and I would load up.

Then in college, they revolutionized pizza specials forever with the trend-setting pick two for $5.99 deal.  Now they delve into technology leading the way with their pizza ordering app and “piece of the pie” rewards program.

Over the years they’ve experimented with pasta bowls, sandwiches, breadsticks stuffed with stuff and even used boneless chicken wings as the base for a crustless pizza amalgamation (still scratching my head on that one).

Whether you consider those experiments successes or failures Dominos continual exploration has undoubtedly contributed to their growth.

What shall I do in the next dire moment?  Focus my attention on the next right move.  -Jordan Peterson

Dominos ability to quickly pivot has allowed them to remain one of the biggest pizza companies in the world. I give them credit because course correcting is no easy task, especially if we don’t want to change the behavior that needs changing.

When I started packing on the lb’s it was apparent I couldn’t have my pizza every night and eat it too, but I didn’t want to give it up.  Change has never come easy for me and losing the comfort of those cheesy pizzas made me feel lost.

To ensure that I would have years of pizza eating ahead of me, it was obvious I’d have to switch it up—I would have to strike a balance.  I’d have to settle with only indulging on pizza once a week—for that night I chose Friday.  Today I’m healthier, happier and still enjoying my pizza everyday (by writing about it).

What pizza taught me:

Change is inevitable: our waist sizes can change, our jobs can change, our families can change and even our favorite pizzas can change.  How we adapt is what really matters.

When you stop growing, you start dying– William Burroughs

What I’m eating:  Domino’s thin cheese and garlic knots

What I’m still reading:  12 Rules for Life Jordan Peterson (it’s a long ass book).

The Slice Is Always Cheesier on the Other Side of the Box

“The way forward is sometimes the way back” -The Wiseman (Labyrinth)

In Wisconsin when the first feel of Spring hits, my immediate response is to get my car windows down.  It may only be 50 degrees, but I can’t wait to get that fresh crisp air across my face—I want the aromatherapy of the thawing, damp, greenish-brown grass that exhales from beneath the accumulated salt and sand on the ground.

With Winter and my windows winding down, I’m always brought back to one of my fondest memories: I was seventeen and basking in the freedom of my first job.  I was driving around my small hometown, blasting music, chasing girls and earning my pizza scratch all while delivering sandwiches for Jimmy Johns.

Though I didn’t deliver pizzas during that time (I always preferred to be on the opposite side of that transaction), recently it was a  pizza delivery driver that evoked those same youthful feelings as he dropped off my Friday night fix.

A rat-a-tat-tat on the door signaled that my AJ’s pizza had arrived.

My delivery driver couldn’t have been more than 16 years old—pimple faced, mop-headed and timid—blaring music echoed from the cracked windows of his car on the street.  Suddenly, I was in his shoes and I couldn’t help but imagine the excitement his night held.

Dashing around from door to door with his adrenaline pumping—the pulsing sound of whatever punk teenagers listen to these days charting his course from house to house.  All the while not knowing what each knock or doorbell ring would bring.

It was Friday night, the busiest night of the week, so he’d be autonomous—quick in and out of the pizza shop re-upping on deliveries and then back out on the road.  He’d be making some quick cash and then in few short hours off with his buddies to do all the fun things punk teenagers do these days. No responsibility and his whole life ahead of him.  I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous.

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AJ’s Pizza in Verona

I always cross my fingers when I order AJ’s Pizza in Verona because I don’t think I’m technically in their delivery area, but somehow they keep coming to me.

I imagine it’s because no one that works there is over 18—from the person answering the phone to that shaggy kid who comes to the door—it’s like the lost boys opened up a pizza shop in downtown Verona and could care less about who orders from where.  They’ll take the business and chance to get out on the road.

I appreciate their disregard for delivery zones.

AJ’s is one of the few places in my vicinity that delivers the kind of hole-in-the-wall pizza I crave all the time.  The pizza is thin and typically comes piled with extra cheese without even requesting it (I once ordered extra, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but it was overboard).

They cut the pies in triangles, I usually request squares to get it a little closer to my beloved mid-western tavern style. Also, I swear the larger the pizza you order the thinner the crust is, so I always go for at least a large even if my appetite calls for medium.

They also have killer cheesy breadsticks and their ranch is extra tangy and on the thin side; reminiscent of Rosa’s in Whitewater (extra nostalgia points).

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Wanting what I can’t have.  

The emerging Springtime and the youthfulness of that AJ’s delivery driver gave me feelings of my youth that were fun to romanticize and for a fleeting moment made me want to go back to my beloved first job, but would I want to be that AJ’s driver working on a Friday night?

Heck no, I want sweatpants, a couch, HBO and to be eating the pizza not delivering it.  It was a classic case of the grass is always greener, the old proverb in which we feel the circumstances and conditions of others are better than your own, even when that’s not the case.

What pizza taught me:

It’s tempting to be envious of other people and other pizzas, but it’s more fulfilling when we can learn to appreciate what we have.  I always joke that when I retire I’m going to go back to my favorite job of delivery driving, but I think I’ll stick with the memories.

What I’m eating:  AJ’s Pizzeria large pepperoni-cut in squares, small cheese sticks.

What I’m reading: Jack Kornfield The Art of Forgiveness, Lovingkindness and Peace

 

I’m Sick of Pizza

“Change your thoughts and you’ll change your world.” -Marcus Aurelius

I’ve got a confession:  Last Friday night instead of pizza, I ordered wings.

Yes, that’s right, Friday night—pizza night—the most sacred night of the week, I voluntarily opted for Buffalo Wild Wings over pizza.

Maybe, it’s time to put the crushed red pepper and parmesan shakers on the shelf and retire my trusty pizza cutter.

Deep down, I’m not craving pizza at all.  I’ve got only one thing on my mind:  Spicy, garlicky, wings.

Is it time to close the pizza box? 

After 33 years of eating pizza every Friday I feel I’m drifting away from it.  The cheese, sauce, and crust combo has gotten stale and I’m off into a new realm of Buffalo sauce doused in ranch.

Wings have always been the side item, never the star.

For years I’ve loved wings but they’ve always taken a backseat to pizza (literally, pizza takes shotgun). They were always left sweating it out in the takeout box as I’d snap pictures and whisper words of encouragement to my mozzarella covered model; like a photographer immersed in his shoot.

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Buffalo Wild Wings: Spicy Garlic.

Recently I was introduced to Spicy Garlic sauce at Buffalo Wild Wings and that transformative experience has left me craving them frequently—going there for lunch and getting them for mid-week dinners.  My urge for their garlicky greatness is becoming undeniable.

The sheen of their uneven shapes glistening with spicy garlic sauce tempts me like a dark red forbidden fruit. Each one pulling me further into a spiral of wing infatuation.

Turning a (menu) page. 

After that Friday night without pizza, I felt like a guardian angel had granted me a set of wings.  Those drummies and flats gave me a fresh perspective, a new path, a new passion to pursue.

Maybe it’s time to stop obsessing over pizza and expand my passion into other comfort foods, like wings.  There’s so much great junk food out there and I shouldn’t limit my explorations to the confines of pizza.

What pizza taught me:

There’s more to life than pizza and tomorrow’s April Fools Day so I’m completely joking. Syke!  I got slices from Rocky Rococo’s for dinner on Friday.  Pizza for life.  Wings can wait until Saturday.

What I’m eating:  Rocky Rococo’s sausage and pepperoni superslice

What I’m reading:  12 Rules for Life:  An Anecdote to Chaos Jordan Peterson

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The Yellow Pages: Section P

“Time moves in one direction, memory in another.” -William Gibson

Whenever I wind up in hotel rooms with the Wi-Fi wavering I try to find a phonebook (they still exist some places) and I go straight for the yellow pages to section P. 

Before instantaneous Google searches followed by Yelp or Instagram image confirmations, we had to rely on the yellow pages to plan our pizza eating in unfamiliar territory.  Back there you’d find the full page ads of all the local joints showcasing their menus and specials—a snapshot of what you’ve got to work with side by side.

The ancient book of the landlines. 

Last week we packed up the family for a vacation to New Smyrna Beach in Florida and as soon as we settled into our rented condo overlooking the ocean I couldn’t help but wonder:  What kind of pizza does this little beach town have?

I knew it wouldn’t be long before a pizza craving would strike, so after a long day of travel, with my electronics dying and our Wi-Fi sparse, I began to search for some stashed away coupon catalogs or a stack of menus left behind by the owners.

On an end-table covered in brochures for local attractions—next to the landline phone, I found my New Smyrna guide book.  My instincts guided me as I picked up the paperback artifact, dusted it off like Indiana Jones and slowly thumbed to the yellowish section of its back pages.

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The pizza of New Smyrna Beach. 

My first step in section P was to do a quick scan for any food-porn worthy imagery—though I didn’t expect to find any high-quality images printed back there, I couldn’t even find anything besides run-of-the-mill staged stock pizza photos.  Not a good start.

Next, it was time to get into the details of what each menu had to offer, I began searching for clues to what might make one place better than another.  I combed the details of thin and thick crust options, specialty pizzas and appetizers.

I weighed the options between New York style slice shops, Italian Restaurants and dive pizzerias.  After a lot of internal back and forth and more pizza hypothesizing than Tess cared to hear I had made a decision.

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Manny’s Pizza Beachside.

The first place I opted for was called Manny’s Pizza Beachside.  I figured might as well stick with the vacation “beach vibe” and it was backed by the recommendation of the front desk employee who mentioned they also do a killer breakfast.

I went for a half pepperoni and half deluxe which included pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, green peppers, and onions.  The crust was the most noteworthy element as it was uniquely reminiscent of focaccia bread.  The pizza portion was thin but the crust rolled up into a hand-tossed handle at the edge that was really good for a dip in some ranch.

The veggies had a nice rough cut and the sausage was sliced in thin medallions.  It wasn’t the best pizza I’ve ever had, but the toppings, sauce, and cheese were flavorful and executed properly (it’s vacation pizza so it can do no wrong).

Visiting the past.

Flipping through the phone book to find Manny’s reminded me of going through catalogs before Christmas as a kid and circling all the things I hoped to get.  Just like vinyl records, cassettes, VHS’s and early Nintendo games, scouring the yellow pages revived a dorky nostalgia within me that was fun to embrace.

With everything we need right in our smartphones, I imagine it won’t be long before the old paper phonebook will be a thing of the past—an item that will stump the kids of the future like 8-tracks or rotary phones.

What pizza taught me:

With technology increasingly integrated into our lives, it’s nice to disconnect and spend time with some of the remnants of our modern age. In New Symrna Beach that old-school method of researching pizzas was almost more fun than the pizza itself.  

What I’m eating:  Manny’s Pizza Beachside half pepperoni and half deluxe

What I’m reading: I Love Capitalism Ken Langone

 

 

Pizza Hacks

“Don’t settle with good, fight for great”-Jim Collins

I’m fascinated with life hacks: health hacks, home improvement hacks and of course pizza hacks.  

Pizza is arguably one of the universe’s greatest gifts so why would something so inherently awesome even need to be hacked?

The millennial in me wants all pizzas to have participation trophies, but the truth is that all pizzas are not created equal.  Therefore, the idea that one slight tweak could optimize a pizza eating experience has got my attention.

Finding an edge. 

Some hacks are as easy as extra cheese, but most are not so obvious.  It could take years to stumble upon a decent hack through trial and error, so instead of finding out the hard way, I’m pooling together some of the pizza hacks I’ve discovered right in my area.

Below I’ve listed some of my tricks of the trade, but I hope to take away more than I share by writing this.  I want to open a conversation on what can take already awesome pizzas to the next level.

Top Six Madison Area Pizza Hacks 2019

Rosati’s- Super Thin

This Chicago chain has a worthy deep-dish and pan, but they go the other way with thin-crust too—not many people know this but they actually have a “super” thin-crust option. They take their normal thin and give it an extra squeeze through the dough rolling machine.  Try ordering super thin with extra cheese and you are in for a Midwestern tavern style treat that can get you through the lonely nights when your missing Gus’s in Whitewater.

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Rosati’s Super Thin

Ian’s Pizza-Par-Bake

If you get slices to go, stop that quick-handed pizza-tender and have him skip the oven and go for a takeout box.  By taking your pizza home par-baked you set yourself up for a huge win later.  Preheat to 450 at home, keep a close eye and you’ll get a perfect melt and char on those slices that are just as good or better than the restaurant.

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Papa Murphy’s-Get it four ways

No more half and half limitations, Papa Murphy’s will let you dial in your topping choices four different ways on a single pizza. If you want a slice of plain cheese, Hawaiin, sausage & mushroom, and green olive you can now get them all nicely divided up in quarters—it’s great for the whole family.

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Sugar River Pizza-Skip the crust

If you’re sticking to a low carb or keto diet Sugar River Pizza Co. in Verona has got you covered—they’ve got a pizza bowl.  Take any of your favorite toppings and they’ll throw em in a bowl, smother them with cheese and serve it up with sides of sauce.  The best of pizza without the carb-heavy crust.

Toppers Pizza-Subbing Sauces

One of my all-time favorite switcharoos is swapping BBQ sauce for pizza sauce on the Meat Topper at Toppers, try it and you will forever bow down to its sweet, savory, salty, smokey awesomeness.  Also, step up your red sauce dipping game by giving the infamous Topperstix a spin with a side of pizza sauce (the sauce they put on pizzas) instead of the default marinara.

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Toppers Meat Topper with BBQ sauce

AJ’s Pizza-Get it thinner.

I’ve noticed that places that hand toss their own dough often stretch larges pizzas thinner.  I’ve found this to be especially true at AJ’s pizza in Verona, so I always opt for a large over medium.  I’m a thin-crust lover through and through so I’ll take whatever advantage I can to get my thins as thin as possible.

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Aj’s  Pizza in Verona

Simple adjustments can take our favorite pizzas from good to great.

Ordering a pizza straight off the menu is a lot like living the status quo—it’s easy—but it can be dangerous as we don’t realize what we’re missing out on—things can also get awfully mundane.

Jim Collins in his book Good to Great says “Good is the enemy of great.””Few people attain great lives, in large part because it is just so easy to settle for a good life.”

What pizza taught me:

There are many paths to achieving success, some are quicker than others. With the right mindset, we can not only push our pizzas from good to great but everything else in our lives as well.

What I’m eating: Scraping the toppings off a Pep’s supreme pizza.  The equivalent of my own pizza bowl (low carb hack to work on my spring break beach bod).

What I’m reading: Give and Take: Why Helping Others Drives Our Success Adam Grant.

Cover photo cred: low carb-pizza-thm-s-pizza-bowl-keto, My Montana Kitchen, October 27 2016 Sarah Hardy

Pizza in Paper Bags?

“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans” Allen Saunders

I’ve always been intrigued by the pizza-in-a-bag phenomenon.  While this rarely occurs outside of old-school pizzerias I have to wonder the intent:

Is it to cut costs?  

Nostalgia the old-timers cling to?

Perhaps a Mythbusters worthy scientific explanation involving the pizza staying fresher?

Either way, pizza in bags does NOT seem very practical.  One wrong move and your pizza could incur some serious damage.  When picking up you’ll need as many helping hands as the pizzas you’ve ordered and delivery seems awfully dangerous.

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Last weekend I was fully prepared for some of the best pizza in Milwaukee, but I didn’t anticipate a bag.

I don’t get to Milwaukee as much as I’d like, so when I’m in town I like to spend time checking off infamous pizza joints.  A friend of mine has been hounding me for the last several years to try Balistreri’s Italian-American Ristorante on 68th Street (it’s got to be the one on 68th! he’d insist).  Now was my time.

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Balistreri’s is a cozy sit-down Italian restaurant that opened in 1968, it’s got classic Sinatra playing in the background and nice white tablecloths—its a place I’d like to sit down and savor a historic pizza eating experience, but with a finite amount of babysitter time that wasn’t going to happen.

My plan was to eat the pizzas on the way home—it’s not that hard to open a box and grab a slice in the car.  So, Tess and I ordered for pick-up and after a 15-minute wait, I was handed two piping hot oval shaped paper bags?

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How in the heck am I going to eat this in the car?

As I walked to the car with the scorching hot pizzas searing my fingers, it was obvious I’d have to reassess my plan.

I knew there was no way I could enjoy this delicacy on the interstate—to taste it in its prime I’d have to get down to business on the streets of Milwaukee.  Hilarity ensued as I struggled to unwrap and balance the bagged pizzas next to a snowbank on the side of the road.

Neighbors gawked and cars slowed down to catch a glimpse of the weirdo blowing on seething hot pieces of pizza, meanwhile, his accomplice snapping pictures of him fumbling around to get stretchy cheese shots.

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It was worth every sloppy minute.

We ordered two mediums: a classic cheese to provide a baseline and a pepperoni & sausage combo to assess toppings and they were both superb.  The pizzas were rectangular and from observing the dining room may have been cooked on baking sheets—they looked more like larges than mediums.

The cheese was stretchy, glistening with grease and speckled with a dusting of flavorful spices that baked in.  The crust was delicate and had a flaky crisp to it.  The sauce was oregano forward and was spread in a thin layer that provided a bright contrast to the meaty hand-pinched sausage and crispy pepperonis.

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Bagged Balistreri’s is how it’s supposed to be. 

Outside of Balistreri’s, on the slushy street, eating my pizza out of the backseat of Tess’s car I had the choice to feel disgruntled or to embrace the goofiness.  I realized there is no point in denying Balistreri’s operations, after 50 years they know what they are doing—the pizza belongs in a bag and I shouldn’t wish it any other way.

Amor fati is an ancient Latin phrase that translates to “a love of fate” and is often linked to Stoic Philosophy and the German Philosopher Freidrech Nietzsche who said:

“My formula for greatness in a human being is Amor Fati:  That one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary…but love it.”

Stoic revivalist and author Ryan Holiday echoes him as he describes Amor fati as “the Stoic mindset that you take on for making the best out of anything that happens: Treating each and every moment—no matter how challenging—as something to be embraced, not avoided.”

What pizza taught me:

Remembering Amor fati can provide a mental cushion when life throws our plans sideways —a reminder that the difference between highs and lows is all in our perception.  There’s beauty in every pizza we are dealt, even if it comes in a bag.

What I’m eating: Balistreri’s on 68th Street; cheese pizza and pepperoni & sausage pizza.

What I’m reading:  The Inner Game of Tennis-Timothy Gallwey

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