Day 22 – The one with the Pizza

A Pizza a day…

Today was the “best day” of the very many ones I keep besting.

Right from time immemorial (age 6ish or so), we’ve discovered that not all days are supposed to be best. Some days have to be made best/special/favourite. Of the many wonders I ponder upon, this is one, that I wonder upon the most.

Why shouldn’t every day be the best? I feel we kill it for the young ones by unknowingly and subconsciously imprinting it in their susceptible minds that not every day can be favourite or special. Birthdays, anniversaries, victories, first bike, car, phone, house (phone, bike, car and house in the current world) being given the tag of “those were the best days of my life”. Whereas the rest 364/365 (leap year accounted for), are shunned away!

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying we should not celebrate the aforementioned occasions. All I am saying is that why not treat every other day like the best day of your life! Ya ya ya…I know, easier said than done.  I am a sucker for occasions just like you. But WIP, I shall overcome and rescue the abandoned 364/365.

Coming back to the title of this one, “A Pizza a day”.

When you say “Cheat Meal”, I say “Pizza”! A correlation my mind invariably directs itself into. The deep equation that I share with this meal can only be expressed mathematically as follows :

cm = p

where,

the variable “cm” represents “cheat meal”

the variable “p” in this case is “pizza”, and, it being a variable can be switched by your very own cheats – “b-burgers”,”c-cheese cakes”…

This relationship can further be deepened as follows :

2p+ c = cm

where,

the first term, 2p with coefficient 2, represents two 6-inch pizzas,

the second term c, with “implied” coefficient 1, represents one can of Coke/Pepsi.

2 become 1, just as the “Spice Girls” melodiously sang to us, this gastronomic equation becomes me.

So Day 22 started with putting into practice the above equation of mine. It was time to take my best buds – “the taste buds” out on a date!

I come from a small town that is known for its bakery (limited to breakfast biscuits and pastries). We were exposed to “fast food” in the mid-80s/early 90s, when “cable television” introduced us to the idea of “food from the West”, aka – “Pizzas and Burgers”.

Back then, Pizzas were not as readily available as they are now, nor were they baked in any specialised manner. There was an industrial touch to the way they were manufactured.

Whenever I wanted to be rescued from my mom’s cooking (just like my boys need rescuing now! C’mon, the tradition has to continue, right ?), my dad would take me to one of the local bakers whose idea of a pizza was radically unimaginative.

Small clusters of grated cheese sprinkled on a 4-inch thick(medium rared) pizza base, muddled up with some tomato ketchup!

Getting a bite out of it was like punishing my teeth for all the lazy times they refused to do their job properly (swallowing meals).

The best part, though, was the “cheese ketchup” mashup! Ah! (such delicacies are’nt found these days – though that local baker still functions, sans Pizzas).

And, Pizzas didn’t have any subtitles back then- like Margherita or Napoli, etc. Pizza was Pizza. 3 ingredients – medium rared base, cheese(no mozzarella or burrata – who even knew these existed!?!), and tomato ketchup. I mean c’mon, it was called “fast food”. Doesn’t get any faster than that.

Come to think of it now,  I feel that was my dad’s way of ensuring that pizza left an indelible mark on me! And to make sure that I return back to my mom’s home cooked meals.

Only years later, in college, living life on my own, did my taste buds stumble upon an actual Pizza! We cracked an instant bonhomie – Pizza Margherita and me (much later, I’ll discover another culinary namesake  – though this relationship, unlike the Pizza, didn’t last long).

Ok, coming out of memory lane,  Where was I? Yes, taking my taste buds out on a date.

So I pick up my phone and start typing the word “Pizza Parlour near me”. Halfway through typing the text, Google Maps points me to “Pizza Parlour, The Green Southhall, UK”. That’s when I realise that they don’t call it that anymore “parlour”. And, since there is no way I am going to go to the UK for Pizza(unless I’m funded for it), I decide to replace “Parlour” with the currently fashionable “Place” and am led to realistically reachable destinations around me.

As I start getting ready and am in the final last brushes of my makeup, my stomach lets out a grumbling objection to this very act of objectifying. I agree with it and give up on those last few strokes. If the first few didn’t do much, the last ones would hardly matter!

Now the question is do I choose between a quick 15-minute walk or an 8-minute drive (minus parking time). That brings me to this misleading statistic – Drive time without the parking one. I mean, Mr./Ms. Google – you can’t give us half the picture. If you want us to make an informed decision – then please factor in the parks!

Aware that, in this case, parking would double up my travel time, I decide to put the 2 wheels instead of the 4 in motion, reducing carbon footprint and replacing it with my actual ones, the way it was always meant to be. I feel governments around the world should start rewarding credit points to citizens for such environment friendly decisions. Monetize us ! that’s the only way and reason we do anything !

Anywhooo, 15 minutes later, I show up at the doorstep of one of the busiest pizza places around, only to find a further 10-minute waiting line. The belly grumbles but it will have to be patient.

A young waitress offers me the menu to waste my time even further. Why I say waste? I’ll tell you why. Whenever I visit a restaurant and open up the menu, I go through the ritual of browsing through the pages (sometimes colourful images) at least thrice, trying my best to look culinarily educated by flipping through those pages, mumbling, and letting out the occasional “Aah, interesting, this sounds delicious”. Eventually, I will end up ordering either the first meal that I saw or the one that I can easily pronounce. The first act of ordering any meal – All in the name of a good impression.

In this case, I already know I will either have a Margherita or a Diavola (sometimes Pepperoni), depending upon whether I am with kids or sans.

Yet, I, with my “Ah! Interesting” pointers, will go through the – “Polos and Napolis, Rucolas, Funghi”! pictures just to be enthralled.

Having utilised the full 10 min of queue time I give my choice to the nice girl as she directs me to a “Table for 1”.

“Table for 1”. The dining solo moment, that many of us rarely treat ourselves to.

I used to consider it as a taboo, but after trying it a few times, ended up embracing it.

This is the time when you can eat whatever you want and as much as you want, with no “comments” from your co-eaters or the “looks” they throw at you when they hear what you’re ordering and eventually witness you eating. You are free from judgement and can guiltlessly order and eat your heart away with or without the usage of appropriate cutlery !

If you are one of those dining with children, then I could not stress the joys of going solo on dining more. This is the time when you don’t have to figure out what the ungrateful brats will eat. Presenting them with one option after another, only to be met with the ever so graceful “yuck!”, eventually settling for their favourite “fries”.

All I have to say to the third category – ones with their sweet partners or bitter halves – is that you don’t have to stress your brain on coming up with a dish that has to complement the other’s, eventually settling for something that neither one of you wanted to eat to begin with!

Try it guys – “Table for 1”. It’s a revelation! “Dining Nirvana”!

So at “Table for 1” I park myself in my designated spot, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my friend, Diavola. With time on hand, I do what I do best- mind doodle – observe – judge…

Have you ever observed how different the atmosphere in a pizza place is as compared to any other restaurant/eating joint? It just takes you to its place of origin. You don’t even have to think twice as to which country was instrumental in bringing this fun-culinary delight to our cuisines. Walk into any Pizza Place, and you will be greeted with laughter, smiles, happiness, fun and excitement – nutshell – the Italians!

The name of each Pizza in itself corroborates this fact – originating with Margherita (named after Queen Margherita), Marinara (quick food for the seafarers), Quattro Formaggi (the Four-cheesed Pizza), Burrata, Pollo, Napoli, Diavola. I mean, come on, those are fun bachelors, and one fun bachelorette served on a plate! How can you not have a good time ?!?

Some people (and by some I mean “one” – you know who you are!) say, “Pizza? – I am not much for it”. That’s when I start questioning some (one). How can you not ?!? Maybe their dads pulled the same trick on them as mine, tarnishing poor old “Pizza” in the process. I got out of it eventually and I pray from the bottom of my heart, that they do too! This particular blog might be my way of turning them(one) to the other side.

Soaking in the fun air, I slyly look around to see what others are eating. The grass looks greener on the other side, and before I start grazing, I want to ensure that my grass is the right colour of green.

Table on the left, a family of four (!) is engrossed in what looks like a battle between Pepperoni and Sausages. Garlic breadsticks, the silent spectator is trying to pick a side. But 20 tiny soldiers (🖐) are working in different formations ensuring that it moves to either of the sides. In comes the cavalry (🥤) and the battle (much to the dismay of Mom ‘n Dad) just got interesting! I should definitely drop that “Table for 1” note for them later!

Table on the right is full of late teens who are throwing “dirty looks” at the battleground of the Table on the left. How convenient! Not very long ago, you had your very own battle plans drawn up! And now you are judging the present which was your past !?! How dare you ! These imbeciles are having a mash-up of Pizzas. Trying out almost every name in the Menu !!!!

Then there is the “corner table” – occupied by “sweetheart” diners, where the love for each other is reinforced through the shared Pizza. I can see the twinkle of Margherita reflected in their eyes as they playfully indulge in their respective slices.

Diagonally, I spot another “Solo” engrossed in his laptop, paying limited attention to the “Napoli” lying neglected on his table. Napoli, at its appealing best, is trying to entice Solo away from his Laptop, offering him a walk down to the beautiful city of Naples. All efforts are in vain as its overtures are ignored and Solo continues flirting with his Laptop.

I don’t appreciate or advocate this way of dining solo. Table for 1 implies “gadget-free” dining. This…kills the very spirit of it.

I feel Napoli’s dying spirit crying out to me. I wish I could run across to him and away with him to Naples if he would have other suitors.

Sensing a threat, my very own “Diavola” enters, moonwalking his way towards my section, twirling to the tune of “The Girl Is Mine”! And that is enough to get my undivided attention, as I am more of a Michael Jackson than a Paul McCartney person.

“Diavola”, as the name suggests, is known as the “Devil’s Pizza”, and there is no point in guessing that it has a spicy kick to it. It’s a sinister camaraderie between tomato sauce, mozzarella, spicy salami and/or chilli oil/flakes. Add your choicest soda, and voilà you’ve got yourself a party. This party for/of 1 is well underway!

Happy with my choice, I observe the symmetrical slices of the Pizza. The skill of a perfect pizza lies not only in its making but also in the art of its slicing so as to maximise the enjoyment of every slice. I get captivated by just looking at it and detest the fact that I’ll have to pick up that first slice and disturb the structure of it all. Such a shame !

Another art of eating a Pizza is picking up that first slice. When the world’s eyes are on you, waiting to pounce on you, if in the process of lifting, you accidentally (sometimes intentionally) slide that extra bit of salami to your side of the slice. It is hell to pay for if you happen to have your kids around then. And even worse, in case you are doing it for one of them at the price of aggravating the other. Then you have had it! Your motherhood is questioned, with accusations of favouritism and ignorance thrown at you from one of the aggrieved. Fortunately, today, I was free from such slanders and could let the salami slide into any slice that would ultimately be mine !.

The next hard part is managing the mozzarella that refuses to part from the slice about to be devoured, behaving like Romeo holding on to Juliet’s hand, refusing to let go even though he knows that their separation is imminent. This is the trickiest bit for me, personally and emotionally. At an emotional level, I don’t want to be the one to break up Romeo & Juliet, but break ‘em I must do. This separation is momentary, I tell them, and they will join each other in a different world very soon! On a personal level, I do not want to cut a sorry figure of myself, struggling to get rid of that obstinate cheese. I will spare you the details of how I manage to struggle my way through this section of the meal as it isn’t very visually pleasing, and, since a few of you have already experienced a childhood Pizza-related trauma much like mine. I am resurrecting Pizza for you, and, not the other way round!

Now comes the moment of reckoning. When your taste buds are enticed by the lovely smell of the slice they have been waiting in anticipation of. The mix of the spicy salami, mozzarella, tomato sauce and sprinkles of oregano do the trick as you inhale and feel this magic all the way to your mind. It calms and excites you at the same time, leaving you wanting for more. Mid-way you have to break the flavour by sipping the soda so that the next slice and the one after that tastes like the very first.

Another thing I relish about eating a Pizza is that this is one meal that seeks your “undivided attention” when you’re eating. You cannot scroll through those Instagram/Facebook posts or those Whatsapp forwards while you are at it. I, in any case, usually keep my focus on my meals, especially the “cheat” ones. No social media distractions or any other can take my mind off the meal.

In this “mindful eating” mode of mine, I feel like Julia Roberts in “Eat, Love and Pray”, replaying that entire Pizza scene in Napoli (Worthy of an Oscar for the best monologues of all time!)

“I am having a relationship with my Pizza.” piques, Julia, with such simplicity. Not to mention the grace with which she devours slice after slice while throwing one hit dialogue after another.

“Pizza Margherita in Napoli. It’s your moral imperative to eat and enjoy that Pizza”- she emphasizes.

Yeah, someone needs to uphold the moral imperative! And, girl, I am one step ahead of you, having already bought that extra pair of jeans!

With this moral awakening and unlike the ever so graceful Julia Roberts, I finish hogging the last few bits of mine making a mental note to rewatch Eat, Love & Pray soon.

After this therapeutic experience, I sit relaxed, my ears buzzing from the chillies numbing my senses. Don’t you just love those moments after a full meal when your mind goes completely numb? When you can see and not hear the voices around you. When every single cell of your body remains immobile, sitting in perfect harmony and revelling in the aftertaste. In perfect harmony with your heartbeat. No wonder the key to a happy heart is a happy and satisfied tummy!

Moments later as my senses come back to me, I hear a little bustle of furniture moving as the couple beside me decide to leave. The family of four, now enjoying their ice creams, are busy negotiating the next round of activity that is on the cards. The children after their cheese and sugar rush throwing one option after another at their parents, who reluctantly awakened from their therapeutic experience want to just stay put. I hear you !

The college kids are still there, with the table of mixed-up contents replaced by a couple of pitchers of soda, while they all stare at their respective phones.

Mr. Laptop has already left leaving behind a slice of Napoli… Tch! Tch! It stares at me in such agony, begging me to finish it off and save it from this humiliation. I look away, disgusted and heartbroken… It’s a crime beyond time and words. I feel you Mr. Napoli and I assure you, that you will be redeemed and avenged very soon ! Have faith!

In this quiet moment of unspoken promises comes the waitress asking me if I had had enough or would I like to delve my senses into maybe a dessert. I decline politely and request her to bring me the damage.

While waiting, I look up at the queue outside and I can sense the anticipation of their bellies reflected in their eyes, as they flip through the pages trying to find their perfect match. What will it be this time? I get caught up in the moment trying to guess their shortlists. If only I could stay longer to see which ones I got right. But for them to make that choice I need to move out!

I clear my dues and part ways with some more fortune by giving it to the sweet girl, reluctantly getting up, and bidding adieu to my “Table for 1”. We shall meet each other soon, I promise.

The sound of the street welcomes me back. By habit, I start scouring my bag for the car keys (which always takes an eternity!) After wasting a minute, it dawns on me that I was carbon footprinting today! What a bad decision, in hindsight. After such a meal I would rather be carried than carry myself!

Alas, not to be. I saunter my way back home, the 15 minutes going on 30 now. A pleasant breeze and a bench nearby reach out to me, but I valiantly ignore these overtures. Nature is here to trick me, and I am not falling for that!

I enter my house to the sound of “fight-night” transpiring in the living room. Suddenly, I feel nostalgic, reminiscing about “Table for 1”. It beckons me back. “I will be back soon – and this time we will have a soirée with Napoli! “

The boys bring me crashing down to reality (literally!) as soon as they notice me. The daily drudgery will pretty soon overpower this yearning to the point of it feeling like a distant dream…

However, dream I shall continue to till another Pizza Day arrives, bringing with it its distinctive aromas. I can already hear my future hunger pangs grumbling at the very thought…

Now I bet if not “that one” I was able to hopefully influence some of you into giving Pizza a shot. So go ahead and grab that soon to be favourite cheat of yours, I know you want to  😉 !

…theemptyblogger…

Recommendation : Gordon Ramsay’s Street Pizza. I happen to try it recently and the Pizza’s are quite delectable – My current favourite is the Truffle Pizza.