Everybody is a pizza critic
My kids have been watching a show online about pizza.
A Detroit crust is much like a Silician crust. A New Haven crust is just a cracker. By the look of the dough you can tell if it was made in a gas oven or a wood fired oven. And so on.
They tell me that the host of The Pizza Show, Frank, is ever so nice.
Last night’s Caprese pizza was interesting in that it was sprinkled with a sweet balsamic vinegar. It was a bit soggy. But I found it delicious. The rest of the family wasn’t as convinced.
As it comes to pizza, everyone is a critic. Pizza is something very personal. More so than any other food. We may have our preferences between Thai Basil and Jasmine Thai, but we are okay with either restaurant. Wings from Smoke Eaters pack a bit more heat than from Wingstop, but either will do.
As it comes to pizza, it has to come from Pizza California, or from Luigi’s. Visitors from New York will make the trek to the nearest New York Style pizza restaurant, ’cause there is only one style of pizza. And don’t talk to an Italian about Hawaiian pizza, or risk losing a life long friend.
You may not like every pie, but only Little Caesar’s deserves the wrath of the keyboard. For every other pizza, see Anton Ego.
In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. The world is often unkind to new talent, new creations. The new needs friends.