[Photographs: LA Pizza Maven]

In the last six months or so, I've had the now nearly routine pleasure of eating my share of great pies here out West. In San Francisco and the rest of the Bay Area, north, east, and south, great pizza is readily available—although at certain times and in certain places a wait may be involved. Whether you're at Tony's Pizza Napoletana in North Beach, A16 in the Marina, Pizzaiolo in Oakland, Pizzeria Picco in Larkspur, or Howie's Artisan in Palo Alto, I'm confident you and I could order any of a number of pies and be unequivocally, perfectly happy pizza fanatics. Even here in LA I have the enviable option of scoring a serious pie high from Pizzeria Mozza and Antica.

Sorry, but that ain't quite good enough! I am quite regularly tortured by a slice craving. OK, a three-slice craving. In service of this pizza jones I have been doing something I once disdained; over the last month or so, I've been seeking out and trying assorted pizzamongers in my quest of the elusive perfect—or at least damn good—slice. And believe it or not, I've actually been on a decent streak of good luck—I mean, good pizza.

Beginning in the 1990s, I took road trips up to the Bay Area a couple of times a year. The Central Coast, and Pismo Beach in particular, became a natural, halfway pit stop for food and fuel. On one trip, I noticed an inviting Italian deli and pizzeria (the name of which escapes me). I stopped in and ordered a couple of slices, one margherita and one sausage, and an arugala and gorgonzola salad. The area, known for its quality produce for decades has, in recent years, become a rising star of wine grape production. Well, the local vegetables made for an absolutely fresh and fragrant salad. But the pizza knocked me off my feet. I simply was not prepared for a great slice halfway between SF and LA. Although the crust was thicker than I generally favor, it had an airy hole structure and was crisp and chewy enough to seriously capture my attention. Keep in mind, this was before the pizza revolution had begun. At that time there was no pizza out West that I can honestly say I looked forward to eating. Needless to say, I anxiously looked forward to my biannual visits to this rural pizza oasis, nestled along the Pacific Coast, in the middle of California farm country.

Well, you can imagine how crushed I was when on one trip, 8 or nine years later, I noticed the crust had become noticeably thicker and noticeably less crisp. I asked what had happened but the people working there claimed to have no idea what I was talking about. No doubt my questions and evident anxiety must have struck them as quite odd. Maybe they thought I was having an acid flashback and was "out of it," just ramblin' on about the pizza.

Now, a few more years have passed and this little deli has been replaced by a hot dog or taco stand, I forget. But the good news is that it has reopened down the street (the main drag in Pismo is Price Street) as Giuseppe's Express, an outpost of a nearby full service Italian restaurant, Giuseppe's. I excitedly ordered 2 slices, a thick crust Margherita and a pepperoni slice. The thin wasn't available at that moment. The accompanying fotos reveal slices with nicely blistered corniciones, some charring on the bottom, slices of local Roma tomatoes and a few leaves of basil atop the mozz, and spicy pepperoni. My first bite crunched into the margherita slice, and I was rewarded with a burst of hot, simple flavors. Although the humble Margherita has been the object of a growing backlash, of sorts, (harrrrummphh!) around Slice, this was one tasty triangle. My post-pizza bliss not only carried me all the way to SF, it inspired me to finally try Giuseppe's Cucina Italia on the way back.

Three days later I drove back into Pismo Beach and headed straight to Giuseppe's. If the pizzeria could produce such quality slices, what might the restaurant be capable of? If first impressions mean anything, I walked in, found a table and looked across the reataurant, only to see a lovely wood burning oven staring back at me. Oh yeah!

I place primary importance on crust quality in evaluating pizza, and the house made bread's chewy, rustic quality inflated my hopes for the pies. Let's face it, anyone can buy the best meats, cheeses and other choice toppings, but an excellent crust can't be bought. The Diavolo pizza was every bit as spicy as the name suggests. Organic, spicy Tuscan salami, Gaeta olives, house marinated peppers and a creamy mozzarella. Perhaps a bit too oily but unequivocally delicious. And the crust, well blistered, crisp outside and yielding to a soft inner core, held firm enough to carry the weight of the toppings. I couldn't get enough of the pie but I restrained myself because I had to keep room for the 2nd pie, the Sao Paolo, with homemade sausage, onions and mushrooms. As I was dazed from the picante pizza, I inadvertently forgot to delete the mushrooms from the next pie. I'm not a fanatic for mushrooms on pizza and, in this case, as usual in my experience, their moisture overwhelmed the crust. The mushrooms' flavor seemed to even overpower the sausage, which was quite flavorful.

Yes, I've definitely been on a pizza roll. The die have been tossed and they've come up seven twice. Two strong choices for a lunch time pizza break in the midst of California's rolling green hills and blue Pacific. Did I hear someone say road trip? Gas up the car and pass the grated Parmesan.