Look around you; what do you see? Well, if you’re living in the same world as I am, you’re most likely faced with the constant reminder that civilization as we know it is crumbling at the seams. You don’t have to wander too far off the straight-and-narrow track to see firsthand the consequences of environmental degradation, economic and social inequality, and a toxic culture that reinforces existential anxiety as a means of cajoling us into buying more stuff. Perhaps the most frightening part is that none of this seems to be getting any better; indeed, with each passing day, it only gets worse. Ladies and gentlemen, we are careening towards a bottomless pit of doom, dug with the shovels of our own selfishness, at a speed that would make the peregrine falcon blush.
What, then, can we do? Is there any hope for humanity? Of course there is, and I am here to tell you where it lies: in the power of pizza.
Everyone loves pizza
According to a 2014 USDA report on pizza consumption trends (yes, that is an actual thing that exists), nearly one in eight Americans eats pizza on any given day. Among preteens, this figure is approximately twice as large (so large, in fact, that you’ll probably have some of it left to stick in your fridge for tomorrow). Now, it would be easy to write this information off as just a few hungry whippersnappers splitting a pie after a night at the sock hop, or whatever the kids are up to these days; however, I would caution against doing so. You see, these preteens comprise the generation that, given the proper resources and level of encouragement, could be the one to rescue us from our impending destruction. This is a task that will require an immense amount of resolve and steadfast determination, something that cannot be achieved on an empty stomach.
Well…what’s more filling than pizza? The richness of the dough, the heartiness of the tomato sauce, the comfort brought about by the carefully layered coating of cheese, and the self-confidence cultivated by the capacity to select one’s own smattering of additional toppings work in tandem with one another to provide these future movers and shakers with all the energy they need to save us from ourselves. The central question, then, becomes: which style of pie should we stock up on in order to keep our young heroes as satisfied as possible?
New York, you’re out; if you seriously think I’d recommend we produce more of those flimsy, paper-thin plates of grease…fuggedaboutit, kid. D.C. jumbo slices, while filling, are far too expensive for large-scale production and consumption and don’t really lend themselves to redistribution among peers, which is crucial in order to strengthen the collective morale among our saviors. California, Ohio, Missouri- please step aside; you’re out of your element. The correct answer, to me, is extremely obvious. When it comes to pizza that provides the utmost level of satisfaction and joy to all who let it comb their lips and roam through their taste buds, Chicago reigns supreme.
With the thick, mountainous crust and ripe, saporous tomato sauce, not to mention enough cheese to melt your pretty little heart to pieces, there is nothing quite like authentic deep-dish pizza from the city that brought you Harry Caray and Ferris Bueller. Furthermore, eating pizza in Chicago is an incredibly communal affair. While New York slices are meant to be snarfed down quicker than the time it takes for the clerk to count your change, a proper pan pizza is meant to be savored among friends, family, and loved ones. You truly feel good about yourself when eating it.
Call me biased, but I am yet to stand corrected in this assertion. Time and time again, I have taken naysayer after naysayer, from Burbank to Brooklyn, to Lou Malnati’s, Pequod’s, Ricobene’s, Punky’s in Bridgeport, or any one of the Windy City’s wonderful eateries, and time and time again, I have been met with an expression that melds the pure bliss of biting into a pudgy pan slice, fresh from the wood-fired oven, and the bitter discontent of being proven wrong and originating from a region with inferior pizza. I cannot emphasize how happy this makes me.
Where am I going with this? Did I really just use this article as an opportunity to shamelessly promote deep-dish pizza? Perhaps. Does that make it any less enjoyable of a read?
I don’t know, to be honest. I really need to stop writing when I’m hungry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a delivery menu and a Postmates coupon that are calling my name louder than the sound of the bomb that these kids won’t be able to stop from being made unless we fire up those ovens…stat!
