This video features South Korean rapper Mr. Tyfoon appearing in a commercial for the Asian pizza chain Pizza Etang, where he combines West Coast gangsta rap flair with Konglish, a mashup of Korean and English. Here's the Wikipedia definition of Konglish: "The words, having initially been taken from English language, are either actual English words in Korean context, or are made from a combination of Korean and English words."
It may sound incredibly similar to English, but it's decidedly not. Context helped, but still, my mind reeled, trying to keep up but only recognizing a word or two; I felt like I had a broken Babel Fish in my ear. Mr. Tyfoon's unique, contemporary speaking style is so new and radically different from traditional Korean that even my native Korean friends living in the U.S. couldn't figure it out.
As far as South Korean pizza commercials go, it's got a pretty straightforward narrative: Pizzas are ordered, the delivery guys flirt with a woman (Mr. Tyfoon himself in drag, no less), the pizza is delivered, and a promotion is mentioned. But underneath, the language complexities go so much deeper.
After the jump, the video, and more pontificating.
Traum Pizza, which, if my fading knowledge of college German serves me right, translates to "Dream Pizza," is a newly launched pizza blog from Deutschland. In its Wörter:
Wir heißen Sie herzlich willkommen und wünschen Ihnen eine anregende Lektüre. Ob Sie mehr über die Geschichte der Pizza, Grundrezepte für einen einfachen Pizzateig, Pizzasaucen oder Kräuter für Pizza wissen möchten, hier erfahren Sie, wie man Pizza backt und die richtigen Zutaten findet.
Taking liberties with the translation: "We heartily welcome you and hope you have a good time reading this site. Whether you want to know more about the history of pizza or want simple recipes for pizza dough, sauce, or toppings, you'll find it here."
Maybe I wouldn't knock Pizza Hut so much on this site if it imported stuff like this from its supersecret Japanese labs. Pigs in a blanket on a pizza? I don't know if this "PaPa-Challe" pie is genius or sheer folly. Perhaps both. (The video of the Japanese commercial appears after the jump.)
Unique couple owns Lucas, Ohio, pizzeria: "The man at the bar was telling the tale. When he asked how long it should take the Mohawk Pizza and Tavern driver to make the delivery, he was told Stretch should be there in about half an hour. But the guy didn't quite buy it when he was told Stretch was a woman, a dwarf, who would be delivering his pizza."
Free pizza today. Don't get too excited: It's at Pizza Hut. You can grab a free slice at participating Pizza Huts from 3 to 5 p.m. as part of the Hut's efforts to market its new and improved hand-tossed pizza. The company's new Vice President of Pizza is in charge of giving out the slices. I'd be in line if it were the PaPa-Challe (above).
More free pizza. This time for the royal family. Papa John's is offering the Queen of England and the rest of the royal clan free pies for life from any U.S. or U.K. location, in honor of her visit to Louisville, Kentucky, where the chain's corporate HQ is based. QEII (Her Majesty, not the ship) will be in town for the Kentucky Derby.
Remember that dog food with janky Chinese additives that killed all those canines? So sad, you say, but it was limited to dog food, right?Think again: "The FDA is also examining imported vegetable proteins earmarked for human products like pizza, protein bars and baby formula. That investigation, still in its early stages, hasn't uncovered any contaminated ingredients, but the agency, an FDA doctor said, wanted to 'get ahead of the curve.' "
Until now, the most creative makeovers of the humble meat pie have involved stacking things on top of it. This week Domino's stacked it on something else.
The Meat Pie Pizza comes with beef mince, onions, and peas topped with thick pastry and tomato sauce—and it looks about as pretty as a half-gobbled dog's eye.
The following events took place last Tuesday, March 6, at the Javits Center in Manhattan, during the New York Pizza Show. I was on hand to judge in PMQ magazine's America's Plate pizza competition. Contestants came from Canada, Luxembourg, France, Spain, Italy, Australia, and the U.S. I had wanted to live-blog the proceedings, but I experienced technical difficulties early in the day. So, here is the tape-delayed version of last week's events.
9:31 a.m.: I enter the Javits Center. It's my first time here. Lots of tall glass and concrete. Doesn't seem very inspiring for a building that in many ways is New York City's face to visiting professionals.
9:53 a.m.:I check in, get my "floor pass," and head toward the PMQ New York Pizza Show corner of the International Restaurant & Foodservice Show.
9:54 a.m.: My cellie rings. It's Tom Boyles, editor of PMQ magazine, the trade publication that has organized the New York Pizza Show. "Where are you? I've got to brief the judges. We need you on the floor."
"I'm tryin'," I say. "The guards won't let me in till 10 a.m." Boyles pleads with the scanner-wielding guards to let me in a few minutes before the floor actually opens to attendees. I get in.
9:59 a.m.: I sit down at a table and meet "Pizza" Paul Nyland, who will serve as one of the judges. Soon after, Dino Ciccone, president of the World Pizza Organization and builder of the World Pizza Bike, sits down. Ciccone will be lead judge, and he wants to consult with us on ground rules. "There might be shrinkage on pies in the oven," he says. "How far plus or minus do we want to give contestants? An inch in either direction?" (Judging rules state that all pies must be round and 14 inches in diameter; deviant pies will be docked 1 point. Boyles notes that in past shows, contestants have been known to cut their pies into novel shapes—the outline of Italy, for instance—confident that their creation was so good that the 1-point deduction would have little effect on overall score.)
10:04 a.m.: John Brescio, owner of legendary Manhattan pizzeria Lombardi's, arrives. He's another of the judges. Ciccone continues to clarify scoring criteria. "In the event of a tie, which category should serve as tiebreaker?" he asks. "Overall appearance, taste, or creativity?"
"Taste," Brescio says, emphatically—spoken like a man who doesn't rely on frills and wacky toppings to sell his pies.
10:10 a.m.: With the judges' briefing done, Boyles dismisses us, telling us to meet him at 11 a.m. in the PMQ conference room. I wander the floor, looking at pizza ovens (that's a Roto-Flex multideck rotary oven at right), delivery vans, dough-shaping machines, sauce-dispensing machines. The sauce-dispensing machine catches my eye, all tubes and vats. What's the point? Here's a $3 piece of sauce-dispensing technology for you—it's called a ladle.
10:33 a.m.: It looks like the final judge has arrived: restaurateur and caterer Tony Modica (right), who's also the creator of the Pizza Dance. Mr. Modica has an entourage with him, consisting of at least one accordion player. I've never seen the Pizza Dance in person, so I secretly hope that Mr. Modica will break into it at some point during the day—I mean, otherwise why lug an accordion in? (A note on the Pizza Dance: Its moves correspond to the motions you go through while making pizza: "Bang it, shake it, spin it, put it in the oven.")
10:50 a.m.: I decide to see what kind of wifi connection the Javits Center has. Nothing free. I decide to pay the $29.99 daily rate. Hey, it's for the sake of pizza, right? I connect (woo hoo!), close the lid of my MacBook, and proceed to the judges chambers.
11:11 a.m.: I'm in the judge's chambers, waiting for the first slices to come in. The other judges are with me, chatting pizza and making restaurant shop talk. In Italian. Mamma Mia, how I regret having studied German in college at this moment. Wait! I understand something: va fanculo, I hear. I wish I knew what prompted that exchange!
With no pizzeria experience to chat about and no Italian beyond a curse or two and the phrase for "good luck," I slink to a corner to communicate in the best way I know how: blogging. I transfer some photos from my digicam to my laptop and then, connecting again successfully to Javits wifi, I upload a couple pix to my Flickr account. I'll kill the time spent waiting on slices by live-blogging this thing. Slice readers will get minute-by-minute updates on how the judging is going.
11:27 a.m.: Ugh. Yeah, right. Let's put that on hold. Friggin' Javits Center is ripping me. After having connected and uploaded a photo, the wireless is not working for some reason. It registers that I've paid and tells me to "click here to continue." I click. Animated ellipses blink: "One moment, please." I'm transferred back to step one: "Click here to continue." I can't get the damn thing to work. I guess this will be tape-delayed blogging of the America's Plate.
11: 35 a.m.: Boyles, serving as pizza runner, brings the first pie in. We don't know which team it's from. Neither does Boyles—it's double-blind judging. We do know it's from Contestant No. 2. "No. 1 is running a bit behind," Boyles says. "It'll be along shortly."
No. 2 looks good, and I remember lead judge Dino Ciccone's advice. He's a veteran of numerous serious pizza-judgings and has been on the other end of the stick himself, as a contestant. In the event that the first pie is terrific, Ciccone says, it's best to be conservative with the grading. In other words, even if it rates a 10 in your book, give it an 8 or so. That way, if another pie comes out later that's even better, you still have room to grade it higher.
I'd never thought of this before, and it's one of the things that put this pizza competition head and shoulders above some of the others I've judged in. The overall knowledge of the judges, their love of pizza, and their attention to detail are superb. In this room, I'm clearly the greenest of greenhorns, the tenderest of tenderfoots, the n00biest of n00bs.
No. 2 features a beef topping laid out upon a bed of neatly applied cheeses. Cheese and sauce are in balance. Sauce is bright and fresh tasting. There's a nice, puffy outer lip to the crust. Modica doesn't like that. I don't mind it. The bottom is charred nicely. Not bad for a team using an oven it's unfamiliar with. I give this one high marks.
11:44 a.m.: No. 1 finally appears. Straggler. "Look at that," Brescio moans. "That's a premade commericial crust. Lift it up, let's see the bottom." It's not surprising that professional pizza men also want to sneak a peek at an upskirt view of the crust.
This upskirt reveals a spongy, golden-brown crust. It reminds me of a Pizza Hut Pan Pizza crust or a Domino's Deep-Dish crust. I imagine the airy yet over-oily mouthfeel I'm about to experience. But I don't. The crust is actually not that bad, just not all that impressive to a bunch of diehard New York–pizza guys. Many remark that the toppings are incredible—"Great artichokes," Ciccone says—but wish that the crust would have been cooked a little more. I find the black olives too salty and dominant for my taste, obscuring the flavor of the 'chokes.
11: 52 a.m.: Hot on the heels of tardy Contestant No. 1 comes No. 3. Boyles brings in the pizza box, and opens the lid to reveal a spectacular sight. A pie topped with sheets of gold leaf. I recall the gold-topped 007-inspired pizza from Scotland. This one has everyone talking. "Can you eat that?" Modica asks.
"Yeah. I've seen this before," Ciccone says. "It's edible gold leaf."
"A guy in Park Slope does this," I say. "He calls it the 'L'Oro di Napoli' and it's inspired by a Sofia Loren film. It's supposed to just pass through the body harmlessly without being absorbed."
This one is great. The crust, the sauce, the cheese distro. Everything. Nice char on the thin, crisp-chewy crust (right). The only complaint I have is the gold leaf, which is more gimmick than anything. And since one of the judging categories is "Pizza Viability"—i.e., how practical is it to make for typical restaurant service—I score it low in that column. Seems like it would be expensive to reproduce this pie.*
I guess I'll have some valuable poop soon.
12:04 p.m.: Contestant No. 4 emerges. Boyles walks in, hoping aloud that he hasn't "ruined the chefs' creation." Opening the box lid reveals why he was worried. At the four corners of the pie are large gorgonzola-stuffed dough knots. It looks like a medieval castle of some sort. Is this one of the European pies, I wonder.
It's loaded with many, many toppings, all of which are top-notch and incredibly flavorful and fresh-tasting. There are simply too many, however—and too many "wet" toppings that sog down the crust. "There's a gum line on this thing," Ciccone says. "It's raw."
I can't even get an upskirt because not even with all the years of practice in pizza-upskirting could I get this slice to stand up for a shot from underneath. I have to down-blouse this one. :(
None of the judges tries the dough-knot things. We're just confused by them. The crust is stuffed with the same mild gorgonzola that tops the pie.
12:33 p.m.: Contestant No. 5 comes out swinging with a pie called the "Pacific Dream." I guess that this one might be the American pie and that the American team is from California. It's the most out-there pizza yet, with smoked salmon, onion, basil, and salmon roe dotted upon dollops of crème fraîche.
I never would have dreamed of putting crème fraîche on a pizza, but, well, it was kinda good—in that way that crème fraîche makes almost anything good. It was interesting. The smoked salmon almost tasted like bacon of the sea, since it was thin and smoky and had cooked to a baconlike texture in the heat of the oven.** High marks for creativity but still a weird pie overall.
12:49 p.m.: Uh oh. Another out-of-order snafu. Contestant No. 7 hits the judges chambers before No. 6. Oh well. Boy, does it hit us. We can SMELL this pizza the minute it floats in. This one is called the "Prince Henri," we're told. Hmmm. THAT definitely must be a European. France? Luxembourg? Probably not Spain. It features salame piccante paired with a very pungent gorgonzola. The gorgonzola is just too much and obscures the taste of the salame piccante and the sauce. The only time I taste anything other than gorgonzola is when I bite into the cherry tomato on my slice and it bursts its tomatoey flavor onto my tastebuds.
12:56 p.m.: The last of the pies comes out. Contestant No. 6. It's another odd one. It's called the "Lamb Paradise" and has lamb, feta, tzatziki sauce, chives, olives, grape leaves, and tomatoes. It's almost overkill, and we think the crust is going to suffer for it. But it's a hearty whole-wheat crust. Whole-what?!?!? Yes. That does not endear it to us. The judges must have followed the letter of the roundness law on this one -- it is perfectly, strangely, arrestingly circular. This is like a gyro on a pizza. Like the "Pacific Dream," it is creative and tasty but just not completely there.
1:22 p.m.: The scores are in, the judges are tallying everything. Ciccone and Boyles (right) reach a total and rank the contestants.
1:44 p.m.: We leave the judges chambers and head to the stage area. It's time to award the winners.
1st Place: Spain (The Gold Pizza) 2nd Place: France (The Beef Topped Pie) 3rd Place: USA (The Puffy Boboli-Like Pie) 4th Place: Australia (The Lamb Paradise) 5th Place: Luxembourg (The Prince Henri) 6th Place: Italy (The Dough-Knot Pizza) 7th Place: Canada (The Pacific Dream)
2:03 p.m.: The U.S. Pizza Team shows some off some of its moves. Here's a vid:
2:32 p.m.: I leave the Javits Center. $29.99 poorer, seven slices heavier, and content at having tried pizza from all over the world.
FOOTNOTES
* I later learn that edible gold leaf isn't that expensive but that it's a tricky substance to work with—it wants to stick to everything and you have to be patient with it to apply it to a pie.
** In describing this pie to Girl Slice, I am told, "Oh. They basically did a blini pizza." That sounds about right.
Posted by Adam Kuban, January 31, 2007 at 12:18 PM
Dear Slice,
My name is Oded. Me and a friend started a new pizza site in Hebrew at www.pizzanet.co.il. The site features all sort of funky Pizza information such as the history of the pizza, trivia, famous pizza related quotes, recipes etc.
The site is entirely in Hebrew, except for a new English index we just added (we are working on translating the content to English). We are without a doubt the biggest informational site about Pizza in Hebrew.
—Oded
Dear Oded,
I'm going to have to trust you that all the triva, recipes, funky pizza info, etc., exists on your site, since I can't make heads or tails of Hebrew! Welcome to the world of pizza blogging. You have chosen to walk a strange, maddening path!
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 13, 2006 at 10:20 PM
A Scottish chef has made what might be the world's most expensive pizza:
The pizza is sprinkled with gold and topped with champagne-soaked caviar and lobster marinated in the finest cognac. Creator Domenico Crolla [right] said it was worth more than $3,700.
Mr. Crolla is tying the pie in to the upcoming James Bond movie by calling it the "Pizza Royale 007" (" 'If any pizza was made to suit 007, this is it,' said Mr Crolla.") and will auction it off on eBay to raise money for a charity, the Fred Hollows Foundation, "which works to prevent curable blindness in developing countries."
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 13, 2006 at 1:32 PM
Quite a while ago, Slice reader Will F. wrote to us:
I have found a counterpoint to New Zealand's Hell Pizza. It is Al Volo, a more traditional Italian pizzeria located in the greater Auckland area. I took a shot a writing my own review here: Al Volo Pizza, but perhaps
their website, which has a spiffy animation of the pizzaiolo doing his thing, would be more informative: www.alvolo.co.nz.
No, Will, we think your take on it is more informative:
The pizzas were classic neapolitan pies--extra thin crust, measuring about 12" in diameter. According to the pizzaiolo, the oven ran on native manuka wood and burned somewhere between 300 and 400 degrees Centigrade (roughly 575 F to 750 F). The pies only were in the oven for two or three minutes before they were done. The crusts were crisp, if a little flimsy due to their thinness. However, the sauce was somewhat bland. This may have been related to the kind of tomatoes used (I couldn't say for sure), but it also suffered from an apparent lack of any seasoning. The difference between the cow and buffalo mozzarella was suprisingly clear when sampling them side by side with the buffalo possessing distinctive tang and a creamier texture. Olive oil proved to be an excellent addition to the Al Volo pie, while basil was key for the margherita, though it probably could've used a few more leaves.
Thanks, Will!
AL VOLO PIZZA Address: 27 Mount Eden Road; Auckland, New Zealand [map] Phone: 09 302 2500
Al Volo Pizza [Cat Eats Brains] Photograph of Al Volo pie by Will F.
Posted by Adam Kuban, November 7, 2006 at 11:58 AM
New Zealand chain Hell Pizza, no stranger to controversy or clever gimmicks, has come up with a new one. For its new "Lust Pizza," a pie for, ahem, meat lovers, the company has been distributing pamphlets containing sex instructions and a condom.
The viral campaign has aroused some criticism, as you'd imagine. From Hawkes Bay Today:
Not only do they have the authority of government policy on their side in raising the profile of HIV-Aids-and-conception-free sex with each mouthful of their product, but they are guaranteed that those calculated to be most irritated immediately become, in spite of themselves, part of their promotion. Adjudication by the Advertising Standards Authority is also factored into the marketing plan.
Apologies to long-time Slice readers who may have seen this material already. In light of last night's news, we thought it'd be a disservice not to bring this story to the top of the page again with a quick reheat.
So it appears that chubby pipsqueak Kim Jong Il has reared his nattily-coiffed and nutty—and now nuclear—head late yesterday with news of his country's successful test of a nuclear weapon.
Our more voracious readers may have seen this story before, or elsewhere, perhaps even years ago, but we think it's worth highlighting here. What is it? It's an Italian pizzaiolo's story about making pizza for a man who, dare we say, is one of the few human beings we'd deny the pleasure of ever putting pizza to palate, if we had our wish. That man, of course, is Kim Jong Il. Through the systematic exploitation of a nation, this ill-suited nutjob was able to enjoy the fruits of Italian tradition while his countrymen and women feasted on grass and tree bark. Here are excerpts from Ermanno Furlanis's account of his 2001 trip to a "distant land" to sling slices for a sadistic slavedriver.
...suddenly, and rather rudely at that, my mobile phone rang. The voice on the other end dispensed with the usual preliminaries, and immediately inquired whether I would be available to do a training course in a "distant land"....
It turned out that my caller was a high-ranking cook in one of Northern Italy's swankiest hotels—a Chef with a capital C. He informed me that he had been approached by a group of foreign diplomats who were interested in organizing culinary demonstrations of Italian regional cooking—they were particularly interested in pizza. At first he refused to reveal just where this country was, but he did let on that we would be hired to demonstrate Italian cooking, which is famous for being cheap, nutritious and easy to prepare, in a land which was currently in deep trouble.
This news set my fantasy roaming. In that country, I thought, people would have to learn to cook Italian style because they were in the grip of famine or because they were opening up their economy to the free market. I had no idea where such a place could be and my interlocutor laughed to see my confusion. Finally he provided a hint: "It's a communist country in the Far East".
"Vietnam?" I asked. "North Korea," he shot back...
Not only giant, but with local landmarks depicted upon it:
MOSCOW, September 6 (RIA Novosti) - Sightseers in Moscow might be able to take a very different look at local landmarks Thursday when they appear on an enormous pizza baked in honor of the capital's birthday....
The edible "map" will feature famous sights, including the Kremlin, Vorobyovy Gory hills with a platform overlooking the capital and a ski jump, the Moskva River, and new sprawling communities outside the Ring Road around the city.
TEHRAN, Iran — Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has ordered government and cultural bodies to use modified Persian words to replace foreign words that have crept into the language, such as "pizzas" which will now be known as "elastic loaves," state media reported Saturday.
I guess that would make us "Slice: America's Favorite Elastic Loaf Weblog!"
Update: On a whim, Slice decided to register "elasticloaves.com" as a joke, but someone has beaten us to the punch. According to a WHOIS query, the domain was registered on July 29, the day this story appeared. Is there an Iranian pizza blog in the works? Only time will tell...
Australian television comedian Paul Fenech left Madrid this morning on his 20,000km journey to set an unbeatable Guinness World Record for longest delivery and raise money to fight child cancer.
He will fly via Johannesburg and Sydney before delivering the pizza to the Wellington home of cancer sufferer Niko Apostolakis, 13, at 10am on Saturday.
GREEN DOOR PIZZA Location: The Muslim Quarter, Jerusalem. Getting There: From the Damascus Gate, make the first left off El Wad. Telephone: 02-627-6171 Hours: Fluctuates depending on business. On busy days -- en Shala, Mr. Ali says (Arabic for "G-d willing") -- 7 a.m. to midnight. On slow days, he closes as early as 6 p.m.
Do the time warp: Abu Ali greets visitors to Green Door Pizza from his "pizza pit." After cooking an egg-and-cheese pizza, Mr. Ali coats it with uncooked tomatoes just before serving it.
WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHS BY SELTZERBOY .::.Let's say you've just traveled 5,600 miles, becoming the first person in your family in 2,000 years (give or take a few hundred) to return to your homeland. Would grabbing a pizza be on your mind? It wasn't on mine, either. Alas, duty calls.
We all eat pizza on the road. Not just to see how it measures up; we like to be reminded of home. But this wasn't one of those trips. Surrounded by the beauty and vibrancy of Israel, I never felt like I wasn't home. So I waited until home took its weekly vacation -- on Saturdays, the Jewish Sabbath, Jerusalem grinds to a halt -- to explore the local pizza trade. The only place to do that on Shabbat is the Old City. Aside from the Jewish Quarter and the Western Wall, life there beats as usual.
Holy land: A view of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem's Old City. The Dome of the Rock, Islam's third-holiest site, was built in 691 C.E. Below it is the Western Wall, the only surviving portion of the Second Temple, destroyed by the Romans in 70 C.E.; it is Judaism's holiest site.
Old City is the part of Jerusalem that dates 4,000 years and draws religious pilgrims and curiosity seekers from around the world. It's easy to get lost amid the narrow streets and alleys, each filled with a different story from the city's compelling past. Following the action in this one-square-kilometer town, it's little wonder I ended up deep in the Muslim Quarter -- the largest and liveliest section of the walled city. What's surprising is that with nary a tourist following me, I ended up eating something called Arabic pizza. Much of Old City involves visiting ancient places; in the Muslim Quarter, even everyday life looks probably just as it did when the Ottomans ruled. Except that for most of the Ottoman Empire, pizza didn't even exist.
Not far from the Damascus Gate, Green Door Pizza is a respite from the bustle. Whereas all the action in the Muslim Quarter takes place on the street ("streets" are about 10 feet wide), the Green Door does its business in an actual sit-down restaurant. It's near the intersection of El Wad and Suq Khan ez-Zeit, but good luck finding any street signs. Most outsiders just call this the Arab shuk, using the Hebrew word for "market." You'll know you've found the right place when you see its large green doors, unmistakable amid the seemingly endless paths of stone.
Down a few steps are a few mismatched plastic tables and chairs. As I enter, an elderly man is eating a whole fish from a frying pan at the table nearest the door. From the next table, two middle-aged men look up with large smiles. "Welcome," an Arabic-accented voice says from the back. "Come." It is Abu Ali, standing ten feet back from the entrance -- and three feet down. Mr. Ali, who runs the Green Door, works from a three-foot-cube "pizza pit." In the hollow with him is a wood-fired oven (powered by a combination of olive wood and lemon wood); the oven's opening and Mr. Ali's waist are level with the restaurant floor. Talk about working in the trenches.
[Lithuanian company] Cilija, which owns dozens of pizza parlors in Lithuania and neighboring Latvia, has asked the national patent bureau to register the intellectual property rights of the scent. The agency did not comment on the trademark request.
If the request is granted, it does not mean that other pizzerias would have to stop making the oven-baked dish, but only Cilija would be able to make the claim that its food smells like freshly baked pizza.
"Taylor Street, the late 1890s. The neighborhood of Italian immigrants, largely from Naples, is packed with handcarts and makeshift stands selling fruit, vegetables, olive oil and bread. Speaking mostly in Italian, they buy, sell, argue and barter, when suddenly a man walks onto the street pushing a cart holding two copper washtubs. Their bottoms are packed with charcoal, keeping round pies of bread, tomato, spices and cheese hot. Walking near Taylor and Racine, he sells these pies for two cents each, and the people seem to like them. Little does he know that he is America's first pizza vendor, and in a hundred years those few cents would turn into a multi-billion dollar industry." A Pizza History: Charting the rise of Chicago's pie [NewCity Chicago]
"Michael Altenberg, chef and owner of Lincoln Square's Bistro Campagne, will open Chicago's first all-organic flatbread pizza restaurant, called Flat Earth, in Wicker Park in mid-September. The menu is '100-percent organic' and includes 'flatbread pizzas, salads and sandwiches,' according to managing partner Greg Christian." The Local Pizza Place [NewCity Chicago]
New Zealand pie chain Hell Pizza has box that turns into coffin for your slices' "remains" (pictured). [Boing Boing]
Totino's makes lean Pizza Rolls. Because people who eat Pizza Rolls are really big on dieting. [Fort Worth Star-Telegram]
Satire: "Domino’s Pizza (DPZ) announced that it is teaming up with Federal Express (FDX) to provide nationwide pizza delivery. In a move expected to revolutionize the food distribution business, the pies will be assembled on-site in FedEx’s Memphis distribution facility, and loaded directly on airplanes for next day delivery." [TheSpoof.com]
From yesterday's "Weird But True" in the New York Daily News:
The Brazilian aviation authority has been ordered to pay $17,500 and a slice of pizza to a worker who said he was humiliated when his boss labeled him a "trash picker" for retrieving a slice of pizza from a trash can.
Just arrived at the hotel after a long flight. Didn't sleep, haven't slept since waking up at 10 a.m. EST. I'm going to attack this jet lag thing by staying up until proper bedtime. Watched Densha Otoko, Crash, and Red Eye on the flight over. Didn't want to sleep because I snore really bad and didn't want to be the guy sawing logs in economy class. Let someone else take up the gauntlet on that one.
Customs was a snap, as was taking the train from Schiphol Airport to Amsterdam's Central Station. There are plenty of English-language signs, and everyone here seems to speak it, too.
What, you're reading Slice for pizza info? Well, what does it mean when the first foodstuff I smell upon getting off the train in Amsterdam is PIZZA HUT!? Before I even saw it, I knew it from its greasy odor, which I could smell halfway down the escalator from the train platform. Turn the corner, and, sure enough, whoomp, dare 'tis.
Interestingly enough, this Hut was offering a personal size Margherita pizza. You won't find that in the States.
Next to the Hut was a small automat-type place. You put your money in and get food from a little door. One row seemed to be offering something called a Kipburger, which I'm going to check out as soon as I post this and divvy up my euros into daily allowances. (Don't want to walk around an unknown city with all my cash on hand.) Look for the automat post on A Hamburger Today.
Slice is happy to bring you another excerpt from Ed Levine's book Pizza: A Slice of Heaven. This time, Ed's trip to Naples. Be sure to click past the jump for a list of some of Napoli's—and Rome's—best pizzerias.
The pizza police, dedicated to the proposition that authenticity is everything, tell us that you cannot judge or taste pizza properly without having eaten it in Naples. Pizza wasn't invented in Naples (there have been flatbreads with toppings for thousands of years), but it is the place where pizza became popular, and where this perfect, simple food burrowed itself deep into the consciousness of Neapolitans of every class and neighborhood. Naples, they say, is where the modern pizza-eating rituals first flowered.
In 1830, the world's first pizzeria, Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba, opened its doors in Naples, and an industry was born. Antica Pizzeria Port'Alba is still in business, by the way. Fifty-nine years later, a pizzaiolo named Raffaele Esposito was invited to the Italian royal palace to make three pizzas for the visit of King Umberto and Queen Margherita of Savoy. The queen was apparently no dummy when it came to politics, so she declared her favorite pizza to be the one with the colors of the Italian flag: red (tomato), white (mozzarella cheese), and green (basil). Thus, Pizza Margherita was born.
Right around the time Esposito came up with the Margherita, Italians started coming to America by the millions, driven by the prospect of improving their standard of living. According to author Pamela Sheldon Johns, five million Italians made their way to America by the turn of the twentieth century, 80 percent of them from the south of Italy. Thus it was almost inevitable that a Neapolitan immigrant named Gennaro Lombardi would open the first pizzeria in America—on Spring Street in lower Manhattan in 1905.
Every food writer and historian worth his or her pizza crust has made the pilgrimage to Naples to taste pizza at the source. When I went, I was armed with clippings from many of the illustrious "foodies" who had gone before me—David Downie, Alan Richman, and Jeff Steingarten . To bolster my credibility and to guide me through that stunningly beautiful city, I persuaded Maurizio DeRosa to come with me. Maurizio is a Neapolitan native and the former owner (along with his mother and brother) of the now-defunct DeRosa, the only Neapolitan restaurant ever given three stars by Ruth Reichl during her stint as restaurant critic for the New York Times. We stayed at his mother's in the Vomero section of Naples, and set out to eat at the fifteen best pizzerias in the city. I actually would have gone to more, but Maurizio assured me that fifteen pizzerias in five days would be his limit. What did we find? Well, I hope Maurizio doesn't banish me from Italy for saying this, but what I found is that the Neapolitan culture of pizza is in many ways more interesting than the pizza itself.
PHOTOGRAPHS BY ROBERT SIETSEMA .::.
A couple days ago, Robert Sietsema offered to let Slice post some of his photos from his recent trip to Naples. Before you take a gander, though, I'd recommend that you go read his account on the Village Voice site. It'll help put the photos in context.
OK. have you read Mr. Sietsema's column yet? Good. Now here are the pix. Be sure to click on them for larger versions, and click through the jump. There's more!
Naples street scene. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
Da Michele exterior. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
Da Michele interior. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
Da Michele pies. Margherita, foreground; Marinara, background. Photograph by Robert Sietsema
Posted by Adam Kuban, February 1, 2006 at 11:45 AM
Robert Sietsema visits Naples, making stops at the legendary Da Michele as well as nearby pizzeria Trianon. Regarding Da Michele:
The menu is limited to a pair of amazing pies. Most modern is the margherita (4 euros)óinvented in 1885 on the occasion of a visit from Queen Margherita of Savoia, probably the first pizza to feature cheese, which joins sieved canned tomatoes, a generous pouring of olive oil from an antique pitcher, a basil leaf or two, and sea salt on the surface of the pie. The older of the pies, called marinara (3.5 euros), has its origins in Mediterranean antiquity, an irregular round of hand-patted dough with tomatoes, raw garlic, andóoddly, I thoughtódried oregano, making it seem almost Greek. The dough rises with a decades-old starter, rather than commercial yeast, baking up as soft and pliable as glove leather. You certainly can't pick it up like a New York slice. The overall effect of both pies is a sublime blandness.
"Sublime blandness" may be the most befuddling compliment(?) paid to a pizzeria I've ever seen.
Posted by Adam Kuban, January 30, 2006 at 10:10 AM
Late next month, I'll be going to Amsterdam. Full disclosure: The trip is part of a junket for bloggers put together by Holland.com, the web presence of the Netherlands Board of Tourism and Conventions. Holland.com is paying for the flight as well as five nights in a hotel near the city center, and an Amsterdam public-transport pass. In exchange, I've agreed to sit for an interview with the board of tourism that may appear online or in print, place the "Bloggers in Amsterdam" logo in my navigation bar for one year, and provide Holland.com with one month of premium advertising space on Slice.
Bloggers invited over to A'dam are under no obligation to blog about the trip, but—and this is what Holland.com is counting on—I'll likely file a few dispatches from the Netherlands concerning pizza. I'll likely file some concerning burgers, too, for A Hamburger Today. And any other nonpizza, nonburger food adventures that are interesting enough will likely wind up on Bite by Byte, my new nonpizza, nonburger foodblog.
I wrestled with this offer ethically for a couple of days. After all, it gives the appearance that Slice can be bought. I decided to take the offer, however, because the arrangement is part of an attempt by the Netherlands to draw foreign tourists to the country and in no way involves pizza or hamburgers. If this came from, say, the Chicago Tourism Bureau, offering to pay my way so I could review deep dish pies, I'd have to decline. Others, however, would not let me off the hook so easily. In some circles, the lot of us going on the trip are being compared to Jack Abramoff. Heh. But perhaps the most insightful post of I've read has been the one from Spot-On: The Netherlands 25.
Posted by Adam Kuban, September 7, 2005 at 10:51 AM
Dear Slice,
I was wondering if you know where I could find a decent slice in Paris.
I've been dying for some New York–style pizza.
Best regards,
Viktor
A: Hmm. Like so many of the questions we get here at Slice, we simply don't know the answer. I've never been to France, much less Paris, and I don't think Seltzerboy has, either. I'm pretty sure E-Rock's visited, but he was probably too far gone on wine to bother with les pizzas.
So let's open it up to the international community of pizza lovers: Does anyone know if there's a New York–style pizzeria in Paris?
During our "quiet time," last month, we spotted a post from our man in Saigon, Graham Holliday, freelance journalist and proprietor of the street-food-obsessed blog noodlepie. Mr. Holliday reported on the impending opening of a pizzeria called Pizza 'n' Chick, no doubt the Vietnamese equivalent of New York City's own various Kennedy Pizza Chicken joints. Says Holliday:
The name intrigues me - Pizza "n" Chick. I wonder if the 'Sale off 15%' offer applies to the chicks or the pizza or both?? Were the chicks trained by the Italian chef too? Do they have a 'Buy one get one free' offer. The SliceNY crew would go weak at the knees for a bit of pizza "n" chick action. Blimey.
From the New York Times Going To column—this time Marseille:
Nearby is Pizzaria Étienne, (5) 43, rue Lorette (no phone), which opened in 1943 in its now-dilapidated stucco house. Locals swear it's the best pizza in the world. It was packed and raucous even at 11 p.m. on a weeknight, the waiters all seemed to have tattoos, and there were old photos of famous footballers covering the walls. It was worth waiting for a table in an awkward line by the bathroom. The pizza ($9), which comes with either cheese or anchovies, ranked high on my best-ever list. (Dinner for two with wine was $75; cash only.)
In our previous entry, we talked about a modern-day urban explorer, the Lonesome Hero, who in turn spoke a little about Russia and pizza by way of explaining his "Pizza World Tour."
Mr. Korolenko sings a song about pizza, which our pal Cyrus alerted us to. (He found it here.)
"Have you listened to it yet?" Cyrus asked me repeatedly.
"Not yet."
"You have to listen to it. You'll love it."
He was right. Mr. Korolenko does a pizza world tour via his song, namechecking various countries and cities worldwide while playfully describing their pizza.
"The pizza from Texas, you pay no taxes," he sings. "The pizza from Poland is like polka," or "Das Pizza von Berlin, you gotta break the wall."
It's silly, it makes little sense, but it's fun. Have a listen.
A winner in the Slice Pizza Haiku Contest, that is. We asked readers last week to compose a haiku and submit it for the chance to win one of three fabulous prizes. (Or maybe not so fabulous, depending on your penchant for Japanese snack food.)
We had 18 entries (we expected more; come on, people!), so it was a tough decision, but here are the winners, as selected by yours truly....
Third Prize a.k.a. Second Runner-Up a.k.a. Bronze a.k.a. Show
flour on marble
blooms into flames crisping dough
bubbling cheese cools — N.H. Liao
I thought Ms. Liao's entry was the most poetic of the haiku submitted, presenting two distinct yet complementary thoughts that evoke the image of an almost-too-hot-to-eat pizza. She wins a Japanese-language "I Love Pizza" pin (above right). [Full disclosure: I am acquainted with Ms. Liao, and you're going to have to trust me when I say that this did not affect my scoring.]
Second Prize a.k.a. First Runner-Up a.k.a. Silver a.k.a. Place
Next morning fridge slice
The truest test of pizza
Beats Cheerios always — Eric Sohn
Mr. Sohn's Yoda-esque haiku speaks a universal truth about pizza. Almost any pie tastes great hot from the oven. But a night in icy lock-up truly reveals whether a slice can hold its own. And who would pass up tasty cold pizza for a bowl of flavorless whatever-the-hell-they're-made-of Cheerios? Mr. Sohn (who I do not know) will receive one (1) box of Crispy Pizza Pretz (above left) and a Japanese "I Love Pizza" pin.
Want to get your hands on a box of Pizza Pretz? Enter the Slice Pizza Haiku contest and you just might.
Let's not get into what does and doesn't define haiku and just say that what Slice is looking for is what most of us learned as children—the ol' unrhymed 5-7-5 syllable structure—but with a twist. It must be pizza themed.
Send your pizza-themed haiku to adam (at) sliceny (dot) com with the words "Pizza Haiku" in the subject line. The best, as judged by me, will win three (3) boxes of Pizza Pretz and a 1.25-inch pin that translates roughly to "I love pizza" (pictured). Second place gets one (1) box of Pizza Pretz and a pin. Third place gets a pin.
Have a look at the contest rules below. Good luck, folks.
CONTEST RULES | One entry per person .::. This contest is not open to Slice staff members or anyone affiliated with Slice parent entity Hatchback Media or any of its subsidiaries, notably A Hamburger Today, nor is it open to residents of Chicago, the city of deep-dish dreck. .::. Entries must be received by 2 p.m. EDT Friday, June 24 for judging on Sunday, June 26. Winners will be notified by e-mail and will be announced on Slice at 12 p.m. Monday, June 27. .::. By submitting an entry, you agree to let Slice publish your haiku in electronic or print form. .::. Prizes will be sent via USPS Priority Mail; winners must provide shipping address upon notification of award.
Not so long ago, this reporter found himself at Yagura Market, grabbing a quick lunch of sansai udon to go. (There's not much in the way of good pizza in Midtown.) While waiting for order number hyaku ju ni to come up, I figured I'd pick up a box of that old gaijin favorite, Pocky, manufactured by the Glico company. Though I was familiar with the sweeter versions of the chocolate- and what-have-you covered pretzel sticks, I was not aware of the company's Pretz line of snacks, which apparently predate Pocky (the latter being Pretz dipped in different confectionary concoctions).
On the shelf were Tomato Pretz and Salad Pretz, and I thought, "Why, that'd just be rich if there were ... " and then I saw it, "PIZZA PRETZ!" I felt as if I had singlehandedly willed this insane and unexpected snack into existence through the sheer power of wishful thinking. Of course I bought a package. (Three, actually.)
"Number 112! Hello! One hundred twelve!" My udon was ready. I paid for it, and my Pizza Pretz, and hightailed it back to the office, keen on tearing into this salty snack.
Can you believe it's actually good? If you've ever had pizza-flavored Pringles, or pizza Combos, you might have a hard time believing that, but I kid you not. Pizza Pretz are subtly flavored, and you can actually detect a hint of tomato in addition to the more pronounced cheese taste. Unlike the aforementioned Made in the U.S.A. pizza snacks, Pizza Pretz don't overwhelm the eater with a huge hit of nasty powdered cheese that tastes nothing like pizza. There's just enough of the flavor powder dusted on the sticks to make them tasty but not so much that you quickly tire of the snack and wonder how you're going to finish the package.
Speaking of package, the Pretz box contains four slim foil packages, each one containing about nine sticks, that look almost astronauty. Next time I need a quick meal to go, I suppose I could pick up a box of Salad Pretz in addition to the pizza variety. I've gotta get my veggies somehow.
###
PIZZA PRETZ Where: Available in New York City at Yagura Market, 41st Street between Fifth and Madison avenues. Ikura desu ka? $1.25 Extras: Which Pocky Flavor Are You?
The house of worship's pastor urged his flock to pony up and "give the guy the biggest tip he's ever had."
Hong Fei Li, the congregation's benefactor, is part-time Pizza Hut driver and a hospitality student at the New Zealand Management Academy. He plans to use the money for student-related expenses.
The pastor was also motivated by the fact that pie delivery is a dangerous job and he wanted to do something nice for a pizza driver.
Pizza delievery in Tehran: I would have thought it unlikely. Heck, I didn't even know Iran had pizza. A trip to the movie Crimson Gold might do me some good then. A.O. Scott writes in the New York Times:
Mr. Kiarostami, the lion of contemporary Iranian art cinema, and Mr. Panahi, who has established himself with "The White Balloon" and "The Circle" as one of Iran's leading urban filmmakers, set out to explain what drove the robber, a pizza deliveryman and a veteran of the Iran-Iraq war, to his desperate, self-destructive act of violence. The answer is not altogether surprising, and at times "Crimson Gold" exhibits a finger-pointing didacticism as it exposes the cruelties and inequities of a society sharply polarized by class and corrupted by selfishness, snobbery and cynicism. But the occasional obviousness of the film's themes is more than balanced by the subtlety of its methods, and by the stolid, irreducible individuality of its protagonist, Hussein.
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Maybe I wouldn't knock Pizza Hut so much on this site if it imported stuff like this from its 
"Michael Altenberg, chef and owner of Lincoln Square's Bistro Campagne, will open Chicago's first all-organic flatbread pizza restaurant, called Flat Earth, in Wicker Park in mid-September. The menu is '100-percent organic' and includes 'flatbread pizzas, salads and sandwiches,' according to managing partner Greg Christian." 
Late next month, I'll be going to Amsterdam. Full disclosure: The trip is part of a junket for bloggers put together by 
During our "quiet time," last month, we spotted a post from our man in Saigon, Graham Holliday, freelance journalist and proprietor of the street-food-obsessed blog 
In 
Can you believe it's actually good? If you've ever had 
