Perfect Pizza
This was written for another venue but I'm not one to ignore a gauntlet. How to Make Perfect Pizza (and Why You Really Don’t Want to) When I was 24 years old, I made perfect pizza. Pizza: The Americanized version. If you’re Italian, all that follows will be heresy. I’m talking standardized, reproducible, served on an aluminum pan, sitting around the table with a bunch of friends and a pitcher of beer, watching the game on the big screen, pizza. I other words; I had a pizza joint. My journey to perfect pizza began when I was 17 and landed a job as busboy in a local restaurant. Over the next five years, and several locations, I worked my way up from busboy to cook to dough roller to assistant manager to delivery manager. I made manager at the ripe old age of 21when the company I worked for opened a new store in the little town where I had attended high school. It was the nicest restaurant in town. The position also brought with it certain karmic benefits. The small minded losers who