The Perfect Lover Turns Into A Pizza At 4 a.m.

In the Old World, one finds the cultures vary, sometimes radically, from town to town. Once we hop the pond into North America, the culture is a blanket of similar ideologies and general uniformity, with the slightest variances generally represented only by a changing time zone. Or maybe that’s just what the rest of the world thinks about us in the New World.

They scoff at our biggie-sized sodas, laugh at our root beer, generally dismiss our Hershey’s chocolate, and are merely perplexed by a baked-ziti pizza, seemingly unaware of all the nuances making up the tapestry of the American cuisine.

In America, for example, you can tell a lot about a city from its pizza; New York is always on the go, its people rushing to their next location, too short on time to sit down for longer than a quick bite. New York pizza is scientifically sliced, structured, ready, willing and able for the quick-snacker, a breed which is a rampant in these parts. The classic NY fold, makes pizza eating a walking venture.

Now, Chicago’s a whole different ball game. I know, it’s the classic debate, but ain't it true? Show me one other city that can compete pizza-wise with Chi-town and the Big Apple.

In too many cities, the pizza isn’t fresh, but kept instead under a heating lamp for hours at a time. There are places where the pie is taken out of the oven prematurely, leaving your slice over-doughy and without a crusty bed…cities who sustain their pizza demands with Pizza Huts and Domino's.

If pizza isn’t your go-to snack, meal, and everything in-between, you are living in one of those places. It’s an embarrassment to food, and humans in general.