Eating Pizza in Alaska

The sign confirmed that I was in the right place, but I would never have anticipated the value of the hidden gem I had just stumbled upon. As I entered the door I could detect the faint scent of something wonderful cooking. After sitting at my perfectly crafted wooden hightop, I realized the delectable aroma was actually coming from a red-brick pizza-oven. At this point I remembered it would have been a faux-pas to rip off my pants, with my wallet inside and scream, “JUST TAKE MY MONEY ALREADY!” Rationalizing with myself, I realized that may even jeopardize my chances at actually getting a pizza and therefore, it could not be risked.

The menu was something I’d expect from a hip restaurant in New York, as opposed to a random pizza joint in Alaska. There were the classics, but then there were unexpected treasures that I personally would never have even thought of. After much debate, I decided on a ‘Top Pick’ that seemed so off-kilter, I had to see what all the fuss was about.

After ten agonizing minutes of repeatedly reading the menu, wondering if the right choice had been made, my pizza finally arrived. Silton and Steak. Before, I could see it, I could smell it. The scent resembled an aged blue cheese, which only made me worry worse. When I finally saw it, there were nothing but questions. While interesting, I couldn’t help but further question my unconventional choice. Had I made a mistake? Yes, even bad pizza is good pizza. But, did I just ruin true love because I ran off with a trashy one night stand? The crust was charred to perfection, however there were green pockets of cheese intertwined with large chunks of beef, toped with unnecessary amounts of balsamic vinegar drizzled on top. There was no doubt. A mistake had been made. I decided to handle this like any real adult would, I refused to admit there was a problem and suffered in quiet desperation. As I raised my ‘Stinky Foot Pie’ and bit into it, I realized what I thought was betrayal was actually a blessing in disguise.

It was warm as it entered my mouth. The crust crunched as if I were eating a cracker. And those questionable green pockets of cheese, turned out to be delectable bursts of salty flavor. The beef chunks were a perfect medium temperature. I felt like they were meant to be in some incredible two day old beef stew, but I refused to give it back. Even worse, the balsamic vinegar that I was so critical of, turned out to be another well planned component to an exquisite dish. It was bold, sweet and tangy. Competing toe-to-toe with the silton on every level.

There is nothing subtle about this dish. The smell, the appearance, the taste, it all invokes strong reactions. While, this may not be a home run for everyone. I believe it is well worth getting up to bat. Balance is important, and while all these flavors are strong. They are still balanced. For every salty punch, there is an equally sweet kick. Culminating in an abusive relationship that is worth staying in.

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