I don't favor the blind belief that all worthwhile writing must be deep, powerful, significant, that true writing does with words what can't be explained in words. It's too serious to be taken seriously. Thus, to mark my coming of age, my first week in my first place in Austin, I decided to chronicle the simply delicious. I made an unbreakable vow, a promise so serious that to fail it would doom me to a forevermore faithless life.
I decided to eat only pizza for a week. Join me on this journey of endless crust, cheese, and assorted toppings.
The Glorious First Day of My Unbreakable Pizza Vow (or Monday)
If you could eat only one food for the rest of your life, what food would you choose? My answer has always been pizza - versatile yet reliable. I remember reading this young adult book about time-traveling kids. The kids needed flying chips to fit in with the the futuristic crowd, so they ordered a pizza. In the the future, you can order any kind of topping on your pizza, and what is the future but a permutation of the present? Thus, pizza would be the perfect food to eat for the rest of your life.
I started with Home Slice in South Austin. Their motto is “In Crust We Trust”, and their trust is well-placed. With pizza, the sum is greater than its parts, but crust is still the foundation of any worthwhile pizza experience. If you're the type who leaves their crust untouched, leaving a work of art as a pile of dejected breadsticks, then at least try to do it outside where pigeons with more sense can feast on your fabulous leavings. Seriously, go on, get the fuck out on a picnic, and don't forget your non-alcoholic beer and decaffeinated coffee.
For dinner, I did Gatti's pizza near my new place. They have a buffet option, but I went with their large two-topping pizza (pepperoni and jalapenos) and pepperoni rolls. One apt review described it as warm-slug pizza; that isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it was soft food that couldn't be made up for with exciting toppings.
That night, I felt dizzy and nauseous. In tracing the source of discomfort, I realized that I'd fallen for pizza fallacy #1: that it's obligatory to get a meat topping every time you order a pizza. By doing that, I'd consumed close to half a pound of pepperoni with six days still left to go in my unbreakable pizza vow.
Veggie Redemption (Tuesday)
I needed vegetables! I ended up going to Draft Pick, a sports bar in Riverside. They had about 80 big screen TVs (this doesn't count the booths, some of which had TVs embedded in the tabletops to spare people the inconvenience of having to look up from their food). Although, I don't follow or understand sports, I enjoy visiting sports bars to remind myself that there's still plenty I won't understand. Anyway, I got their Every Veggie pizza (mushrooms, onion, olives, jalapenos, and other green stuff).
This place had amazing crust, crispy yet chewy. Unfortunately, the place is planning to change their crust fairly soon. The bartender gave me a free piece of pizza with the new crust – while still decent it lacked that same, subtle crispiness.
This was the best day of my pizza vow. My little brother had driven down with me to help with the move and stay for the week (and humored me by taking photos). We rented stand-up paddle boats on Lady Bird Lake before checking out the nightlife on E. 5th and 6th street. Austin is known for its food trailers, and there were two reputable pizza ones on E. 6th.
The first was Spartan Pizza. During a previous stay in Austin, I had ordered a full pizza from them with elaborate toppings and had been reasonably impressed. I bought two slices: plain cheese and veggie. The veggie was slightly disappointing, since it only came with bell peppers and onions. The meal was tasty but unsubstantial.
Luckily a trailer selling Detroit-style pizza was right across the street. I didn't know what Detroit-style meant, if it tasted like broken dreams and motor oil, but I decided to give it a chance. This squarish, thick pizza jumped to first place in the crust category. You know that almost-burnt fusion of cheese dough that you sometimes find near the edges of more typical crusts? It's salty, crunchy, mind-consuming, and it lined the entire crust of this Detroit-style pizza.
Longing (Wednesday)
I woke with hunger and realized that I didn't know any place in Austin that served breakfast pizza. I lost my patience after Googling possible places for 30 seconds, so I asked several friends for advice.
One of these friends reminded me that cold, leftover pizza is the perfect leftover pizza. This would require forethought to buy enough pizza to have reserves, so it'd have to wait for another day.
My quick fix for that morning was CiCi's pizza buffet. Their pizza had that same warm-slug consistency as Gatti's pizza, but there was also this white film on each piece. Perhaps it was some sort of cheese paste to help the toppings stick. I kept going back for more, but I felt soiled.
My brother and I went to Zax for dinner, where one of our new friends in Austin waitresses. She suggested that I get the pesto base, which was a welcome change with chicken, tomato, and caramelized onion toppings.
Yet, my brother ordered the turkey burger, and I found myself gazing longingly at it between mouthfuls of pizza. This was my first inkling that my unbreakable pizza vow wasn't going as planned.
Pizza Reserves (Thursday)
In moments of hunger and weakness, it was important to have pizza reserves. As Pizza Hut was also rather near my new place, I took advantage of one of their family-sized deals: two large three-topping pizzas plus breadsticks and cinnasticks.
Pizza Hut has had a special place in my heart from early childhood, since that was the place that our Dad would always call for pick-up. I remember riding home triumphant with a warm pizza box secure on my lap during chill winter nights. Plus, with Pizza Hut you get plenty of those brown beauty cheese spots. On old people they're called liver spots, but on pizza they are divine.
I went with bacon, ham, and pineapple on one pizza and mushrooms, onions, and olives on the other. These pizza reserves lasted me all through Thursday and most of Friday. I kept opening and closing the fridge, willing them to turn into something else.
3-Day Confession (The rest of my week)
Pizza, I must confess that I did bend my unbreakable vow.
Most New Year's resolutions won't be kept. Many monks living in silence communicate with intricate hand signals. Old-school Catholics don't eat meat on Fridays. They eat fish.
And I ate a waffle sandwich on Friday.
I was out at the 24 Diner with friends and was going to meet up with you later that night, but one of them offered to buy dinner. My first betrayal had fried eggs, cheddar, bacon, sausage, and brown sugar sandwiched between two waffles and slathered in syrup. I tried to convince myself that the waffles were similar to crust and that it could count as pizza, but I felt in my heart that I had forsaken you.
It's not you, it's – actually it is kind of you. On Saturday, I tried to spice up our relationship by ordering a calzone at Southside Flying Pizza. This closed loop version of pizza is quite refreshing in that it cooks the toppings in a slightly different fashion. I once had a spirited conversation with a Scandinavian bartender in Kansas City about how calzones are perfect for steaming broccoli. This Saturday morning calzone had spinach instead as well as basil pesto, herb ricotta, artichokes, mushrooms, and chicken.
Your close cousin reminded me of your glory, and I thought we were back on track... until it happened again. It was St. Patrick's Day, and I met some Japanese pancakes – think exotic hash browns, onions, herbs and spices. The first one I got (yes, there were two) was topped with finely-shaved, smoked pork belly. While it was closer in consistency to you than the waffle sandwich, it gave me flavors and textures that you could not.
As I pondered my disgrace over an incredible hungover Sunday Chinese buffet, I began to see eating you and only you as a cheesy metaphor for never leaving my comfort zone, for all the new experiences that I'll never have if I want to stay exactly the same.
What if vows weren't made to be broken? What if vows were flexible, organized ways to pursue possibilities instead?
My new unbreakable vow then will be to search for a new experience every week and document the results here each Monday. Thank you pizza for showing me the way – still friends? Anyway, I hope that I can visit you at places like East Side pies, Hoboken pies, and Firefly pies in the future.
As for this upcoming week's experience, I don't know what you are just yet. But, as I find new and better ways to name you, I will escape you with an embrace.
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