A Pizza My Mind: In Praise of Delivery
Delivery's not good for pizza. Sitting in a cardboard box, the pizza steams, the crust softens, that crisp edge melting into the sauce. Great pizza is a fleeting thing once it leaves the fiery oven, and it doesn't wait for your convenience.
But I had a good thing going until a few short months ago: I lived within delivery distance of Motorino in the East Village of NYC. In fact, from my little shoebox of an apartment on St. Marks Place, it was faster to get pizza delivered from Motorino than it was to go there in person, wait for a table, order, and wait for your pie to appear.
I'm not saying the pies were completely unaffected by the four-block journey, but it held up darn well. It was an easy dinner when I was working late. It was the perfect sponge for bottles of wine or beer I had on hand. The crust was charred and stretchy and flavorful, even if the center was a little soft on a saucy pie. And now, having moved across the country, I'm in pizza mourning.
But San Francisco is a town that seems willing to wait in line for its pizza. Like, for hours. People wait in line so long at Flour + Water that they get completely inebriated ordering glass after glass of wine as they stand around. (I guess that's the point, and it's a smart move on the restaurant's part, unless they don't want all their customers getting drunk...)
Delivery culture as a whole just isn't that prominent in my new city. So it seems my top notch pizza delivery days have passed. Unless you've got a tip for me. Is there a pizzeria you love that delivers to the Mission?