I love Pizza more than I love some (many) people. I know its carbo-loaded grease, but by God I wouldn’t have it any other way. Any pizza is good pizza.
I first fell in love with the stuff back in elementary school in the US, where one day a month, if I was super good, I was allowed to buy lunch on pizza day. It was magical. It still is. Today my diet consisted of a long black, pain au chocolat, a burrito the size of my calf and this mother, pictured above. Good food, good pizza – and every so often, eating like there’s an impending disaster comparable to a zombie apocalypse about to hit Oz.
Sometimes, when I’m eating pizza, all I can think of is how much I am looking forward to that next slice.
My current obsession is Debacle Pizza (sorry if you aren’t from Canberra) where they have the Dumbledore of Pizzas, the Hill. Coated in delicious parmesan, olives, basil and pepperoni on a thick doughy crust, I would be lying if I said my love was purely platonic. They also have other winning combinations (Zucca – halloumi, pine nuts, pumpkin and basil; and Bombay Chicken complete with curried chicken, tzatziki, and papadums as a garnish), and give you a side of anchovies if you ask nicely. Each monday is 2-4-1 pizza, which is directly in line with this blog. Sweet, sweet, bliss. It makes me want to sing gospel.
With love, from Charlotte.