Real Pizza

Remember my sad attempt at recreating my brother’s pizza? Well, as I was reading Brilynn’s post over at Jumbo Empanada’s about what real food was, I started thinking about what real food meant to me. While I found her insights that all food is real food interesting, in the end, I had to disagree. Yes, I suppose anything you put in your mouth, chew, swallow, and digest can be considered food, but real food is something more. Real food is something with more sustinence, something that provides more nourishment than calories alone. Real food is about feelings and family. Which brings me to the pizza.

I created pizza in my kitchen a few months ago to try to replicate this pizza, but this is the real thing. My brother at the pizza oven, wielding his pizza paddles, my mother and aunt in the kitchen, assembling pizzas from fresh ingredients, and me, barefoot, running back and forth from the kitchen through the rain with raw pizzas to deliver to my brother, who had created a shelter for himself under an umbrella propped up next to the oven, and back with the freshly cooked ones, cheese still bubbling on top, to be quickly sliced into little pieces and devoured steaming, burning tongues and fingers.

Mac and I didn’t get any until the last pizzas were coming out of the oven. I had to steal a few pieces and carry them out, tossing them back and forth between my hands. The crust was chewy and delicious, nearly burned on the edges, just like we like it. The pepperoni was under the cheese so that it didn’t burn, a trick we’ve picked up after years of experimenting. The sauce was homemade, tasting of the last fresh tomatoes of summer. I’m sure some restaurant pizzas are better, more symmetrical, with higher quality ingredients, but I wouldn’t trade this one for anything.

My brother’s pizza is and always will be my favorite. It reminds me of my childhood, which I suddenly felt was ending this June upon turning 20. It reminds me of my family, who I miss more and more the farther I chase my dreams in Europe. It reminds me of summers running barefoot on the grass in the rain.