In my college days I once (or twice) made a nacho pizza. I was not high. At least not on drugs — maybe on the giddy anticipation of the pie-brid taking shape in my mind, the glorious possibility of combining two great tastes into a gestalt of outrageous texture and flavor. That was years ago, and I don't really remember whether that pizza was successful (I might not have been high but I was probably drunk.) I've threatened to re-create that pizza in these pages,* and now I have a template: The Quesadilla slice at Vinnie's Pizza in Williamsburg. More