My boyz

Spent a lovely weekend at my sister and brother-in-law's house in the Berkshires. (My cuter-than-ever nephews, clowning around, are pictured above.) Die-hard beach person that I am, you can't argue with perfect weather and a hike to a beautiful waterfall (Bash Bish Falls, if anyone is interested. Gorgeous).

After the hike, we went out for pizza--the first time I've eaten pizza since I've been back from Italy. BLEEEECH! Not to be a prima donna, or anything (hey, just realized that that is an Italian phrase--maybe I DO want to be a prima donna), but you just can't compare Italian pizza to American pizza. Granted, this pizza came from upstate New York rather than New York City or the boroughs, but still.

Here are the problems with American pizza:

The crust is too thick and not the right consistency. In Italy, one person can easily eat the better part of a pie because the crust is so delicate and thin and light, with just the right crunchy but chewy consistency and amount of salt.

The sauce is way, way, WAY too sweet. In Italy, fresh tomatoes, lots of garlic. No sweet sauce.

The cheese is too thick and goopy. In Italy, the mozzarella is incredibly fresh and not glopped all over the pizza so it pulls out from your mouth in a long rubbery string.

There are no real spices. In Italy, you can taste all kinds of delicate flavors as well as the true flavors of the crust, cheese and tomato and basil.

In short, in American, pizza is fast food. In Italy, it is a wonderful meal. At least to me!
Ciao!
Paola