This entry is dedicated to Sarah and all of the other Crust lovers that help me finish my pizza.
I am not a crust eater. I find that it wastes valuable space in my belly that can be filled with warm, sweet tomato sauce and a variety of toppings. The first part of the pizza is just so easy to eat. You can fold it up and push it into your gullet, easy as liquid. There's just something about pizza that lets you store it in your belly like sheets of paper bound together in a package. I imagine the slices are standing upright against my insides, making way for the next piece to come down. I find it no small wonder that pizza eating contests are so popular amongst enthusiasts of all ages.
But then, there's the crust. I know that once I've made it to this point in the pizza, it's slow going. Starting off with the best of intentions, I consider that no food should be wasted. There are starving people everywhere.
I begin where the pizza leaves off: The edges are still soft and doughy so I can't resist nibbling on the floury crust. A few bite marks later and I am attempting to eat my way around the burnt edges. This is where I start to feel defeated. It's just so dense. The hard bits are crumbling all around me. True, it's tasty but it's just too much work and I have another slice of pizza loaded with mushrooms sitting in front of me.
I continue to think about the starving people but I just can't do it. Taking one final bite off of the edge, I look sorrowfully at the dark brown crust before me, tossing it back into the take out box.
This is when my crust partner takes over.
The crust partner is essential. Without them, I'm nothing to a slice of pizza. They're are the ones who can take away the guilt of my perpetually unfinished project.
There are certain people in this world that live for crusts. It is not my intention to say that they spend their lives scrounging through the trash of others, waiting to see what the can scavenge. ( Although they do, kind of.) What I mean to say is that they've cultivated a taste for what some may say is the best part of the pizza. These are the people that can battle that thick, chewy, rind of bread with ease. Made of sterner stuff that I, they can dash away a piece of crust with dedication that I am incapable of.
What's funny is, I never have to look to far to find my crust partners. They're usually hovering around, without my knowledge, waiting for me to throw in the towel.
There I'll be, sitting, arguing internally about how it's time to move on to that other piece. I'll have just accepted the truth that I am in fact a spoiled brat when my crust partner will swoop in with an offer to devour the remains. I am saved.
Once I discover my pizza soul mate, I use them constantly. Offering all I can to these creatures. I will even stop a bit before the crust begins so that they too, can enjoy some of the soft bits before decimating the final pieces of pizza. It's neat. Everything has been put where it needs to be. All that's left in the box are crumbs and a bit of oil to remind me of the relationship made between those who can swallow bulk with ease but need help with chewing the toughest parts.
I continue to think about the starving people but I just can't do it. Taking one final bite off of the edge, I look sorrowfully at the dark brown crust before me, tossing it back into the take out box.
This is when my crust partner takes over.
The crust partner is essential. Without them, I'm nothing to a slice of pizza. They're are the ones who can take away the guilt of my perpetually unfinished project.
There are certain people in this world that live for crusts. It is not my intention to say that they spend their lives scrounging through the trash of others, waiting to see what the can scavenge. ( Although they do, kind of.) What I mean to say is that they've cultivated a taste for what some may say is the best part of the pizza. These are the people that can battle that thick, chewy, rind of bread with ease. Made of sterner stuff that I, they can dash away a piece of crust with dedication that I am incapable of.
What's funny is, I never have to look to far to find my crust partners. They're usually hovering around, without my knowledge, waiting for me to throw in the towel.
There I'll be, sitting, arguing internally about how it's time to move on to that other piece. I'll have just accepted the truth that I am in fact a spoiled brat when my crust partner will swoop in with an offer to devour the remains. I am saved.
Once I discover my pizza soul mate, I use them constantly. Offering all I can to these creatures. I will even stop a bit before the crust begins so that they too, can enjoy some of the soft bits before decimating the final pieces of pizza. It's neat. Everything has been put where it needs to be. All that's left in the box are crumbs and a bit of oil to remind me of the relationship made between those who can swallow bulk with ease but need help with chewing the toughest parts.
1 comment:
LOL.
Post a Comment