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When I was a Freshman in college – back when the dinosaurs were still executing panty raids on the saber-tooths – my roommates and I pooled our cash to order pizza one night. One of the roommates wanted, in all seriousness, an anchovy pizza.

Yeah…we could have just run to McDonalds instead.

Anchovies, those salty little fish, get zero respect in the pizza topping community. Even cauliflower makes fun of anchovies.

We all groaned and made fun. College might expand your mind, but if you try hard enough, you can hold onto your ability to mock anything outside your immediate sphere.

But, for all his quirks and the sneering response of his dinner companions, this roommate was quite generous and he offered to share his anchovy pizza. For all the fun we were having, we were still polite enough to accept a slice. I can’t remember what my roommates did with theirs, but I ate mine.

AND…I didn’t hate it.

,..I didn’t really like it either, mind you.

BUT…to this day, all these decades later (sigh), I can still taste that anchovy in all its salty fishiness. Why?

I don’t think it’s the flavor so much as the distinctiveness of the experience. It was a little like eating a bit of shoe leather covered in salt. No chance of mistaking an anchovy for a pepperoni. Maybe the taste isn’t something worth recreating, but a memorable food experience is.

Every Saturday is homemade pizza and movie night here. We make good, basic, pizza for finicky kids. I like it, but, frankly, I’m a little bored. I could use a new recipe. A new crust, kick-ass toppings. Excellent sauce. Some combination thereof.

So, world, step up. Hit me with your best pie. Extra points for the pinnacle of pizza pie that includes whole wheat crust.

Hurry up, I’m hungry.


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