Saturday, July 07, 2012

Pizza Pie Please

OK, OK, let's just get it over with. Pizza for God's sake, big piece-a flat bread with topping, what's the big deal? You wanna talk about pizza, you got sumthin to say? EVERYBODY's got sumthin to say about Pizza. It's Rays, it's not ray's, it's Ray's CORNER pizza, it's the best pizza in town, it's the best PIZZA IN THE WORLD!!

OKAY foodies, here's the beef. There are three places to go for your fancy schmancy pizza. Naples. The whole goddam city. Brixton Market in London. And Chiswick in London. That's it. End of.

Now, for the rest of us ornery joes, there's a choice that will make your eyes bleed. There's so much pizza in the world you just wonder who's eating it all. And more importantly why. It's an open sandwich, it's not quite dinner, it's takeaway, it's transmogrified into versions which have pineapple and chicken tikka and thick and thin crusts. How? Well, hold the phone phatboy (particularly if you were about to call Domino - yuck!)
Pizza makes money. Lots of it. It costs about 5p (that's 5 cents) for the actual stuff, the flour and the tomato topping and then the other 4p goes on salami and cheese, whatever. But you can't buy it at that price because the mafia controls the lot. Y'see, according to this guy I met on the bus, the mafia controls the entire mozzarella industy which is why those little rubber pucks in supermarkets cost 99p because while they want you to buy it they don't want you turning it into a whole goddam industry, do they? You know what it's like to have a horse's head on your pillow?
So they make these pizzas and then cook em up and sell them to you so they can keep their yachts off Sardinia or New Jersey and you just munch away in front of the Kardashians not thinking about the link to crime and the suffering of little children exetera exetera.
Even worse, you go to Pizza Express and pay a WHOLE LOT MORE for their pizza (my lawyer, Bernice, tells to tell you that have no link with the mafia) unless you go on Orange Wednesday before or after the movie and get the stuff at half price. Not the whole deal, not the booze and the doughballs, just the pizza, the Veneziana or the Gardineiera or whatever. Personally I wouldn't pay more than half price for one of them pizzas but at 50% off they're OK. Because I'll tell you what, have you ever tried MAKING a pizza?

WHOA!! First off all the stuff, the 00 flour and the buffalo mozzarella (see above) and the pomodoro tomatoes and so forth costs an absolute fortune. You have to buy it from specialist shops like Waitrose and so forth. Then you have to mix it all up and cook it. A friend of mine has one of those barbecues with the lid, the ones that are like a blast furnace inside. So we make enough pizza for twenty people, there are five of us, and we eat this total mess of burnt and raw, soft and squidgy and rock hard, cold and nuclear hot toppings which have got everything on them. I'm sweatin buckets, runnin back and forth out to his little balcony where the furnace is scorching the walls and the dinner table where everyone's drinking more and more, which is a good thing because they wolf down the pizza as if it's OK.
And while we were polite to our hosts, it was actually schmuck. Like landfill on a plate.

So I'm thinking that this pizza thing is a good business to be in. It's just that if you look at it from the consumers point of view, it's not. It mostly tastes of nothing, which is good if you're really concentrating on something else, but bad if you're on you're own and looking for something to distract you from mind games.
God, Pizza. It's like, really serious.


Anonymous said...

I really hate to be a pain in the arse, but as a fellow Scot now resident in London, I feel I should come clean; I've been following your Guardian comments for years, but have only just got round to checking out your blog.

Get your grammar sorted. Get a better idea of what you want to write and make yourself sound authoritative before pretending to BE authoritative. Don't embarrass yourself by flirting with vernacular American (yeah, yeah, you've lived in New York, but it still doesn't wash) and find a voice of your own. I realise I'm a sad bastard for over-scrutinising you, but I genuinely see promise in your writing and wish you'd stop making a fool of yourself in (semi) public.


A drunk who can no longer keep his peace.

Good luck x


nationwide said...