Today I am grateful for pizza. I know, I know, it sounds trivial. What a stupid thing to show gratitude to, but I don’t care. You don’t have to only be thankful for big, important things. Sometimes the little things in your life can be just as worthy of a nod of thanks.
Pizza is a perfect food. A wonderful, chewy bread (or a thin, crisp bread or a thick, oil-fried bread or…) covered in a light layer of seasoned tomato sauce (or pesto sauce, or barbeque sauce or…) and topped with as many cheeses and meats and vegetables as your imagination can think of. Pepperoni, sliced tomatoes, pineapples, chicken, bacon, anchovies, green peppers, Butterfinger pieces (I have indeed seen and eaten a Butterfinger pizza!).
I worked for a year at Papa Murphy’s pizza, and part of the interview that helped me get the job was the fact that when they asked me what my favorite Papa Murphy’s pizza was, I had already prepared a list of ten. I could have done well at that job, but my life wasn’t in the place it needed to be. Maybe it won’t ever be. Nevertheless, I am much happier and healthier where I am now, and so all I take with me from there is my undying love and gratitude for pizza.
Pizza is awesome because it is a scalable meal. You can eat pizza by yourself, or with friends, or in a crowded arena with 100 people you’ve never met. You can get it with 10 toppings or no toppings. You can adjust the thickness of the crust, the amount of the cheese — and whether the cheese goes over or under the toppings — or both — or woven into the crust itself!
You can cut a pizza into any size serving you want. You can cut smaller pieces for smaller appetites, or enormous pieces for hefty hungers. You can make it without cheese if you want. You can experiment with literally anything and pizza will smile and say “Yeah. That tastes good on me too. Let’s go!”
Pizza makes friends. It salves enmity. It mortars the cracks in a broken heart. It goes perfectly with beer, wine, root beer or water. There’s never a such thing as “too much pizza” because it can be eaten lukewarm after an hour left out, cold out of the refrigerator, or steamy-melty-nuclear hot out of the reheating microwave zone. No other food offers better left-over opportunities.
I don’t know who invented pizza, beyond the generic “Italians.” But I am thankful they did. I am thankful Italian-Americans worked and reworked and worked over again their recipes until they had mastered the craft of pizza-making. I am thankful that my parents encouraged me to eat pizza, let me have high school jobs at Dominos and Pizza Hut, and that I had a chance to work at Papa Murphys. A part of my life has been spent helping people enjoy pizza, so maybe my entire life hasn’t been a waste.
I like to think so, at least.
This has been post 11 out of the 1000 that I hope to post in my 48th year. If you’d like to see how close (or far) I am from finishing, please check out the Chaostician page.