One of the great joys of living in America is that, at any moment, no matter where you are, you can order a pizza. This was a fact well-known to me when I was in high school and college. “Let’s order a pizza,” is a phrase most of us are quite comfortable saying and it wasn’t until very recently that I realized I hadn’t uttered those words in a really long time. But hanging out with my friend John at his new house in Glendale, recently, we were talking about where to go to dinner and suddenly I found myself saying those magic words. Before we knew it, there was a knock on the door and our pizza had arrived.
Don’t roll your eyes, but we got pizza with broccoli on it:
The place we ordered from was a local Italian joint and who knows if this was good pizza or bad pizza; it didn’t matter. The crust was chewy instead of crisp like what you get from a coal oven place in New York. But eating it in John’s living room while drinking the wine that I’d brought, there was so much to be happy about. Here was dinner that we could eat on paper plates, no silverware necessary, and when we were done eating it we were full and satisfied in a way that can only happen when you order a pizza.
Even if you’re a die-hard food lover who forages for micro arugula on a regular basis, sometimes you just need to order a pizza. Go order one now with my blessing.