On pizza

Last night I was driving home from work down one of 3 routes I take. Not being a creature of habit and often acting on whims I chose Main St., the route that takes me by a 12 x 12 box of dark, weathered boards, with a white sign that reads "Pizza Chief" in red cursive lettering. I've only eaten at Pizza Chief twice because of Tony's Pizzaria. That's right it's pizzaria not pizzeria. Tony's Pizza on Thompson is on my top 5 pizzas ever list. It's worthy of periodicals like Food and Wine and Saveur. It's thin with a crispy crust on bottom, soft crust on the outside, salty cheese and a subtly spiced sauce. In a word it's sublime, so anytime within 30 miles that Pizza is the cuisine of choice, I'm choosing Tony's. But before I knew about Tony's I ate Pizza Chief. Twice. The first time it was pretty good. Just cheese and sausage. The second time I ate Pizza Chief was at work when we ordered several for a department lunch. Not nearly as good. I'm not sure what went wrong, although the pizza did sit for at least a half hour before we dug in. Cold pizza is good, reheated pizza is good, hot out of the oven pizza is best, but warm pizza misses something.

So when I was driving by Pizza Chief last night I was remembering fondly my first pizza from the place, the fennel sausage, the greasy cheese, the chewy crust - nothing like the overly topped, warm pizza of my second Pizza Chief experience. I was thinking my happy pizza thoughts when I noticed something fly off of the car in front of me and land in the road. As I approached, I quickly realized that the car must have just pulled away from the 12 x 12 driftwood establishment and that before me lay a box of pizza. My mind raced. Was this a gift from the pizza gods? "No!" The samaritan in me shouted, "this is a tragedy." I stopped in front of it trying to think quickly of how I could save this pizza and return it's deliciousness to it's owners, speeding home unawares of the loss that had just befallen them. I checked my rear view mirror and there were several cars behind me. I pulled to the side not wanting to impede traffic only to see the car behind me drive over the box. I was sad for whoever had sped off in the silver SUV with the peace sign on the spare tire cover that thought they were en route to sweet, salty, savory, chewy perfection, but was instead driving home to a very dark hour. Could I have done more? I don't know. It all happened so quickly and there's no planning for what to do in a situation such this. Would the pizza have even been viable if I had been able to rescue it? I could only hope that the purchasers of the pizza would have the endurance to return for another, that the proprietors of Pizza Chief the goodwill to make them one for free. and that diner and dinner would be united in delicious harmony that night.