I have similar feelings about white
pizza as I do about white chocolate and white-bean chili.
In a word, imposter.
White pizza a big round tasty
breadstick but it’s not pizza. I may not be Italian but I’ve eaten a buttload
of pizza during the course of la mia dolce vita. A perfect pizza, with chewy
crust, bubbling cheese, and a tangy tomato sauce, can cause me to temporarily
lose my mind, only to find it right next to an empty pizza box or tray. I have
been known to hoover the whole thing, be it a thick Chicago-style pizza from
Gino’s East or a homemade jobber with a cornmeal-dusted crust and fresh sauce.
A white pizza, however, has never
inspired me to do more than flip the page on the menu and order another carafe
of chianti. I need some color in my life and if I can’t get it from my pizza,
I’ll just drink my dinner instead. I’m not saying it’s not tasty but when faced
with a choice between a pizze bianche or a tomato pie, why would I ever
choose the white one? Olive oil is an oil,
not a sauce.
I call bullshit on white pizza.
(photo: emerilware.com)
Posts
1 comment:
I love white pizza, but I agree that it should not be called pizza. In fact, I punch the face of any food 'inspired by' a classic that calls itself by the same name. I went to vegas and had lunch where we ordered seared ahi 'nachos'. Now, I will admit, they actually printed the quote marks around the word nachos, acknowledging that it wasn't nachos. But, why even use the name?! What it was, was a pile of ahi tuna on a bed of three sauces which were, admittedly, yummy and spicy and perfect, and on the side: some freshly made tortilla chips. That's not nachos, people.
Post a Comment