Thoughts for Company

“Cooking shows again?! What, you wanna become a chef or something?” *smirks*

My mom asks this every time she walks into the family room and sees anything food-related on TV. Sure, the television has always been a great educator in our household, but really now…

She is hardly a fan of my cooking. Turns out my creations don’t slide down the throat as easily as the traditional Chinese dishes for which she is famous.

I do watch a disproportionate amount of the Food Network, though. No argument there.

One of my fave shows is, without a doubt, Diners, Drive-ins and Dives. It’s not that I necessarily have an appetite for all of the down-home fare featured on “Triple D’s” (as it is affectionately known to fans).  The appeal lies in the notion that one’s pores and arteries magically seem to clog with the mere act of watching the show. And at least half the fun is simply marvelling at how the incredibly likeable host, Guy Fieri, can actually down all that food without it showing more than it already does.

That said, there are inevitably at least a couple options from each show that would warrant a long road trip across America.  Or in my case, a short flight down to San Diego!

Life is tough, eh? Weekends in sunny California, digging my toes into the warm sands of Coronado Beach… But before you airmail me that jealous punch to the nose, you must realize my life is a picnic no longer. My European adventure last year certainly left me worse for wear, cibariously speaking (and yes, I had to Google that word too!). There is no real gelato or pizza outside of Italy.

Or so I thought, until I caught the Real Deal Italian episode of Triple D’s featuring Pizzeria Luigi.

*Watch for the multiple Nick Nolte appearances, beginning at around 2:42.

I love being able to say I've been to places you've seen on TV. Admit it, you feel the same way. (from PizzeriaLuigi.com)

Our party (and oh, what a party it was, lounging on the patio beneath a large beach umbrella and a clear blue sky, within wafting distance of a couple of hoodlums smoking up!) ordered three varieties of the famous Luigi pizza: the Leonardo, the Donatello, and the Vegan. I guess they ran out of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle names.

Oh, the crispy, thin crust; the sweet herbed sauce; the fresh and delicate toppings; the generous wedges… 18 inches of gut-busting bliss.  The meal was fantastic.  Light and delicious and flavourful and not at all like what North Americans mistakenly call pizza.  For those looking for the stuffed-crust, been-to-the-edge-and-back, stacked-high-and-mighty novelties, your style this ain’t.  But if, like me, you yearn for the kind of pizza you enjoyed in a Tuscan castle but without the long flight, look no further.

You certainly can’t argue with the price, either; just $2.50 per gigantic slice, or up to $18.50 for the most ornate version.

Not surprisingly, I was too consumed by the feast before me to take pictures myself, but luckily others weren't too distracted to do so. (from saysgranite.com)

A few words of caution: don’t forget to BYO fork and knife (if that’s your style) AND don’t be shy with taking a napkin to the tops of certain varieties of pie before shoving them into your piehole (unless you have an aversion to chewing) AND don’t forget that (IMHO) food never tastes as good when you’re still - very blissfully - in a food coma from a delicious lunch of BBQ chicken from the La Jolla Open Aire Market (that’s la-HOY-ya and not la-JOE-la, FYI) AND don’t think you’re being prudent by saving a slice for the plane ride because the crust will be a soggy mess after you cleverly smush it between two paper plates and stuff it in a big paper bag and close the top while your dinner is still warm because this hardly does the flavours any justice at all and then it will definitely taste like tomato-topped cardboard that you dropped in a puddle (though this is hardly Luigi’s fault).

But aside from that, Pizzeria Luigi will still be on our hit list the next time we jet set our way down to San Diego.  Until then, I’ll just have to try out their recipe for the Mona Lisa pizza - arm-hair optional.