I’m Jake Hounds, and this is One Thousand Words or Less
EPISODE 6 - The Worst Pizza on Earth
In every town, in every city, and at every rural crossroads in America, you will find pizza. It’s in your grocer’s freezer, or at a chain, or made at a local independent joint. It is the most popular food in the world.
Why shouldn’t it be? For hundreds of years, diners have enjoyed the perfection of three key ingredients, bread, tomatoes, and cheese, to form the most marvelous bite the human palette has ever known. Not only perfect but customizable to suit all tastes, with some estimates suggesting that pizza has upwards of 34 million possible combinations!
Pizza has always been one of my favorite foods, from my first slice at the age of six. I still remember that bite, at the kitchen table in our old apartment. My father brought in the box, from Tony’s Pizza. It was a pepperoni pizza, and back then it was real Italian pepperoni, so it was peppery to my virgin taste buds and I remember drinking copious amounts of water to cool the heat.
My father was also a pizza aficionado since his first bite, which he also clearly remembered. His first slice of pizza was from a bakery in Scranton Pennsylvania in the early 1950s. It was baked in a tray, and served wrapped in paper. Some things just stick with you, and the love of pizza is one of them.
This wonderful pizza journey, this viaggio della pizza, has been punctuated by innumerable average pizzas, some mediocre ones, and a few perfect pizza pies that all other pizzas bow down to, which begs the question: How could you wreck pizza?
Yet also in every town, every food court, every high school cafeteria, lurking everywhere in plain sight, there are people masquerading as pizzaioli, leveraging the word pizza, the shape of a pizza, and, of course, the insidious “pick up special,” to lure us into the trap of terrible pizza.
You likely know the worst pizza in your area, because it’s the one you never order from, even when it’s the only one open. It doesn’t even cross your mind, you drive on past it as it fails to ensnare you with it’s pizza lies. You may have fallen victim to those lies before, or someone warned you, in any case, it is dead to you now, and you are better off without it.
The worst pizza where we live is from a place called Tino’s Pizza. (Not the real name) It is the worst pizza on earth. I say that with some confidence in the logic of pizza which is as follows, I’ve never had a pizza this bad before, therefore how could any other pizza be worse than this one.
When I mentioned Tino’s Pizza to my daughter she was surprised to learn that it is open at all. From the outside she always assumed that it was closed down, and in her imagination, she considered it haunted. She thought it was a haunted house! Could Tino himself be a ghost?
When you look at the building through her eyes you can see why. It sits on an awkward corner, just over a small bridge as you move from the core retail and residential area, towards more industrial properties.
It doesn’t face the street, but points it’s corners at you, framed by an abandoned diner, and an auto detailing place. They’re all part of the same narrow shabby cinder block building with peeling gray paint. Overall, the whole complex gives off a “waiting to be burned via arson for the insurance money” kind of vibe.
How’s that for curb appeal?
Listen, I get it! We’ve all gotten pizza out of desperation, we were starving, the kids were crying, the game is about to start, or we’re going to a friends for dinner and we need a last minute hostess gift. We trust the word pizza more than we trust one another!
Gratefully, even in the most clutch of the times, pizza usually keeps our trust, with predictably average experiences. Although once in Greenwich village I passed up a fancy restaurant for an inviting Neapolitan place across the street, and it was fantastic.
Some days you get lucky in the pizza game, but there is no luck with Tino’s. Many years ago, I was driving with my son, and as we crossed the bridge I said, hey let’s get a pizza. They have a pick up special! We walked into the dimly lit take out counter area, where the gruff owner took our order. Was this Tino I met? He seemed real to me.
Tino appeared surprised at having a customer at all, and he had to find a pen to write our order. He did so with no pleasure or outward sign of appreciation for our business. Just a few grunts. We had interrupted him into making us a pizza, not from taking a shower, I might add.
It was our bad luck. The crust was like a chemically infused tortilla, dry, hard, cardbread with a tasteless sauce, like watered down tomato paste, and partially melted plastic cheese. It had seemed alive when he slid it into the box, but at home ten minutes later whatever illusion the low lighting and steam gave it, was gone. After a couple of bites, we made a sandwich. I’ve had bad pizza before, and I’m sure I will again. For now, Tino’s was the worst.
I have rules. I never eat the same bad pizza twice. When a pizza shows itself, I believe it. A banana or a handful of nuts can help avoid ordering a bad pizza. When in doubt, make it yourself. Because for all the great pizza in the world, the best pizza is the one formed by your own hands.
Viaggio, compagni di amanti della pizza! Ciao!
This has been 1000 words or less, I’m Jake Hounds.
Thanks for listening.
One Thousand Words or Less is one hundred percent created by flawed natural human intelligence.
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