I am not a pizza snob. I love pizza of all kinds, from all places. I don’t love all toppings, but that’s my own personal taste – I don’t care what you put on your pizza.
So we went out to a pizza place last night, and for the first time, I’m questioning whether what we had was really pizza. I mean, it came out on pizza dough. It was round (not a requirement, but a helpful visual indicator). It was flat. It had crust. But instead of sauce and cheese, it had mashed potatoes, bacon, and scallions. That’s it. It was good, to be sure, but was it pizza?
I’m on the fence. It certainly didn’t scratch my pizza itch (we’re ordering more traditional pizza tonight), but who am I to say it can’t be called pizza?
Mashed potato pizza, I’m sorry I questioned your bona fides. I apologize for repeatedly telling John today that you weren’t pizza. I didn’t mean it. It was only so I could justify having pizza again for dinner tonight.
I am ashamed.