It’s been a long time. Over a year, actually, since I’ve written a Slice of Plain. Let’s be honest, there has been a lot of pizza in that time - a hell of a lot. Plenty of self-reflecting too. I’ve just lost a lot of the inspiration to keep this thing up.
Not that anyone reads it, but it’s just the commitment to it that I’ve lost. I like doing it, too. Anyway, I’m at another crossroads, and when that happens it usually leads me to pizza.
This time, it led me to Temple II Pizza in Camden. This place has been on my radar for the last four years. I see it every day because it’s right across the street from my current school. I parked at the school and as I walked up I immediately recognized some parents. Not of my kids, but of some kids. They seem to recognize me as well. They say “Hey!” and I say, “Hi, how are you!?” We seem to both force an unnatural level of pep and positivity in our greetings. (Tumblr says that word ‘positivity’ is spelled wrong. It’s not.) The woman behind the counter is dressed nice and she’s very kind. It’s not what I was expecting and I think that indicates a prejudice I wasn’t aware of. Teachable moment.
“What do you need, honey?”
“Hm. Just a slice of plain.” (I act like I had to think about it.)
“Just one?”
“Nah, make it two.” (It’s hard to just get one slice of pizza.)
I don’t see any pizza on the counter. There seems to be a bunch of uncooked, breaded meat - chicken and fish, on metal trays. I assume there’s a couple pies already made in the back somewhere. I wonder if any place ever has pre-cut dough into triangle slices and then slap cheese and sauce on them to toss into the oven as ordered, instead of having a whole pie already made and sitting out. As my mind is wandering about ways to prep pizza, I snap back to reality as a man orders a fish hoagie. This sounds like a really weird food item. “Fish Hoagie.” I get goosebumps just saying it. I scan the menu that’s both posted up above the counter and stapled to the wall on printed, but laminated, paper. I don’t see “Fish Hoagie” anywhere. He seems excited for his order and they aren’t surprised, so it must be something people get pretty regularly. I find this oddly interesting, and if I ate fish I might have tried one because it is probably a local favorite.
The pizza comes out in a small box. It’s one of those generic pizza boxes, but there’s a stamp on it that says Temple II Pizza and Seafood. The ink is faded, but I’ve never seen this simple way of branding an otherwise generic box. Interesting. I open it up and, because it’s so small, one slice is actually on top of the other. When I pick up the top slice the cheese from the bottom slice miraculously doesn’t come off. This seems like wizardry. The slice is very greasy, maybe to prevent them from sticking together. It is good, though. Very good. There isn’t too much sauce and the cheese is just right. The crust is what really gets me. It’s a little thicker than thin crust, but thinner than normal. It is perfectly crunchy. Don’t get me wrong, I always eat the crust. If I didn’t, though, I definitely would have eaten this crust.
It’s crazy that I’ve never come here before. I think that’s for two reasons. My fear of change and my loyalty to places that I started with. I’ve seen a lot of pretty looking pizza shops from all over the country. At the end of the day I just end up at one of the same three places I’ve always gone. I know the pizza. I know the vibe. It’s safe.
Sure, I could go somewhere else but the pizza might not be as good. It may cost more. The shop itself may be weird. I might hate the owner. I may not like the other customers. But this fear could keep me from really finding the best slice out there. The slice meant for me. I’ve tried to get the pizza places I love to make the pizza I want, but the system is much larger than me. They might add a little more cheese if I ask enough or maybe leave it in the oven a little longer for a crispier crust. At the end of the day, though, they are going to make it how they want and how they’ve been making it.
I also feel guilty going to other pizza places because I’m loyal. The pizza shops I love won’t go out of business if I leave, but they recognize me there. The small talk isn’t as forced. They know, no matter what, I’m going to show up every now and then and get some pizza. Who am I to do that to them? Who am I to leave?
I’m probably heroizing myself. (Tumblr says that’s not a word, but it definitely is.) These pizza shops that I’m used to and are used to me are not going to go out of business without me. They may even have better customers start showing up in my place.
Plus, the other pizza shops, the new ones, might actually have better pizza. And, if not, they may listen to me on how to make pizza better. I’ve been eating pizza for a long time, I know a little bit about it. It would definitely be economically beneficial, I know they have cheaper slices than the place I currently go. Isn’t that important, too? I’m going to be eating pizza no matter what, so shouldn’t I do it at the place that ends up with me having the most money in my wallet?
I’m old. I can’t keep going to the same old pizza shops, eating the same old pizza, for the same low price.
I mean high price.
I’m too deep in the metaphor.
I have to get out now, or I may be stuck here forever. I think I'm going to go to a new pizza shop. It's a big move, but it's time. Assuming they want me, anyway. Tune in next time.
‘til the next slice.
