Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 27

           By1:00PM,thestreetsoutsidethepizzeriahavebecomejammedwithNeapolitanstryingtogetintotheplace,shovingforaccesslikethey’retryingtogetspaceonalifeboat.There’snotamenu.Theyhaveonlytwovarietiesofpizzahere-regularandextracheese.NoneofthisnewagesouthernCaliforniaolives-and-sun-dried-tomatowannabepizzatwaddle.Thedough,ittakesmehalfmymealtofigureout,tastesmorelikeIndiannanthanlikeanypizzadoughIevertried.It’ssoftandchewyandyielding,butincrediblythin.Ialwaysthoughtweonlyhadtwochoicesinourliveswhenitcametopizzacrust-thinandcrispy,orthickanddoughy.HowwasItohaveknowntherecouldbeacrustinthisworldthatwasthinanddoughy?Holyofholies!Thin,doughy,strong,gummy,yummy,chewy,saltypizzaparadise.Ontop,thereisasweettomatosaucethatfoamsupallbubblyandcreamywhenitmeltsthefreshbuffalomozzarella,andtheonesprigofbasilinthemiddleofthewholedealsomehowinfusestheentirepizzawithherbalradiance,muchthesamewayoneshimmeringmoviestarinthemiddleofapartybringsacontacthighofglamourtoeveryonearoundher.It’stechnicallyimpossibletoeatthisthing,ofcourse.Youtrytotakeabiteoffyoursliceandthegummycrustfolds,andthehotcheeserunsawayliketopsoilinalandslide,makesamessofyouandyoursurroundings,butjustdealwithit.

           Theguyswhomakethismiraclehappenareshovelingthepizzasinandoutofthewood-burningoven,lookingforalltheworldliketheboilermeninthebellyofagreatshipwhoshovelcoalintotheragingfurnaces.

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