I have no idea if I am an artichoke lover or hater. I’ve actually tried to avoid finding out if the heart of this vegetable is something I really want to fall in love with. My first encounter was with a spinach artichoke dip. Good? Definitely, especially when it is a spinach artichoke fondu, but can I really base my like or dislike of something when it is drowning in a vat of cheese? I think not. It was not until a recent trip with some girlfriends at a pizza joint that it occurred to me to give artichokes a chance. Each of us being famished beyond reason, ordered an individual pizza telling each other we would “share” – I being the only one mumbling those words under my breath hoping no one would want an absurd pizza with four different kinds of mushrooms and three varieties of cheese, a girls gotta have her priorities and limits when it comes to sharing, right?

Well after putting in our order, we saw tucked behind the napkins and salt and pepper shakers a little side menu that talked of a spinach artichoke pizza. We all quickly discussed the possibilities of changing our order to include such a pizza, but it was a fleeting thought as they brought out all six pizzas not but five minutes later. Ever since, I have had a craving for this pizza. I don’t even know what it is suppose to taste like, but I imagine a cheesy dip filled with artichoke hearts and garlicky spinach spread onto flat bread and baked until the edges are crispy and golden. This was a pizza to be desired.

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Josh and I recently went to one of our favorite pizzerias and ordered the usual: a pizza known only as “The Sopranos”. This is, unquestionably, the greatest pizza we have ever had, except for the unnecessary amount of grease. Josh and I diverge on this point: both on the amount of grease present on said pizza and on the negativity of said grease on said pizza. He believes that there was little to no grease on the pizza, and, if there was, it would be expected. This is coming from a man, mind you, who wraps all of his food in napkins – sandwiches, pizza, ribs, wings, you name it. So of course, his grease was already soaked up by his napkin wrapped pizza. I, on the other hand, thought there was too much grease. I do, however, admittedly have a disorder that compels me to critique everything I have not prepared. Let’s just say, though, that at the finale of every slice we have to wipe our elbows from the grease that drizzles down our arms from these pies. Nonetheless, we continue going since this is not your average pizza place. They use fresh organic ingredients such as brie and apples, Spanish tuna, snow peas, and grana padano cheese. This story, however, is not about the pizza shop. It is about my inspiration from the pizza shop to create a pizza for the gods. Literally. For the gods.

Due to my aforementioned disorder, it is not everyday that I go to a restaurant and actually like what I order. I tend to find the food bland or overcooked, or imperfectly presented. I love to discuss ways I could improve upon the dish or add depth and color. But with a pizzeria that makes pizza this good, I almost didn’t feel the need to recreate it myself – except for the grease issue, which apparently only I have. What can I say? I dislike dabbing my slice with paper towels or holding it over my plate to let the excess drizzle off.  Thus the decision to create a pizza for the gods.

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