We have not made an entry in several weeks, but we have not stopped eating pizza. One small entry is necessary to talk about the pizza that the Doc’s girlfriend made for my Fourth of July Party.
The Mamma Maestro was in town for that party, and this was the Doc’s Girlfriend (D.G.’s) kind of debutante ball. She was meeting all the friends in the circle, and as a testament to how much of a badass she is, she decided to make pizza for the party. This in itself is not exceptional, but consider the following two points:
1) she had never made pizza before.
2) the Mamma Maestro is probably one of the greatest pizza makers in the world. (See the Doc’s review of her pizza here.
If she was nervous, she hid it well. She made I think three pizzas. One with pepperoni (the one I ate), one with vegetables (presumably the Doc ate that), and one chocolate pizza that was gone before I could even get a bite of it.
As I mentioned this was Fourth of July which, for those of you who know Chicago is like a week-long celebration culminating in a night of complete and total anarchical chaos. In a city where blowing off fireworks is ostensibly illegal, I’ve never seen or even heard of anybody getting in trouble for it. And once sundown happens on the fourth it is a constant barrage of fireworks from every sector of the city. I have private roof access in my building, so going up on the roof during the night of 4th of July is an incredible experience. There are fireworks going off all around. 380 degrees, baby. And they are varied. Like we have some kids in the alley blowing off mostly bottle rockets with a couple nice big flashy ones, and then a block down someone will have the real goods, and it is constant. It’s impossible to take it all in because it’s happening all around you all the time.
And it’s all completely illegal. I think there is this Italian-like quality that Chicagoans have where they want to feel like they’re getting away with something. You see this a lot of times with driving. People will ignore the little green and red light stop signs on on-ramps during rush hour. Even though we know that if everybody obeyed them, rush hour traffic would improve immensely. We see this with the way Chicagoans refuse to go through a roundabout the correct way. We see this with the way Chicagoans almost routinely kill pedestrians who are in a crosswalk and IT IS A STATE LAW THAT YOU HAVE TO STOP AT THE CROSSWALK!
We’re getting a little better at this, but only when one of those giant signs is planted in the middle of the street that says “STATE LAW YOU HAVE TO STOP AT THE CROSSWALK!” or whatever. I’ve petitioned my alderman several times to have one of these installed at the corner, but so far to no avail.
Anyway, Chicagoans, like Italians, want to feel like they’re getting away with something. That they’re clever, or furbo. In fact, furbezza is routinely considered the most desirable attribute one can have in Italy. On 4th of July Chicagoans get away with something en masse. What probably started out as a thumbing your nose at authority gesture, has actually now become something that would be impossible to police. That is, when every single kid in the classroom is steadfastly, intently, and psychotically running around the room, a teacher cannot restore order, without resorting to really sordid means.
So short of federal intervention on a massive level, there’s nothing that the city can do on 4th of July. This is what we were able to watch from my balcony.
The pizza was very good. Lots of sauce. There was a spiciness to the sauce too. For someone who dates a serious vegetarian, I have to say the pepperoni was good. I have no idea where she bought the ingredients, how much of it was home made, if the crust was homemade or boboli or whatever. I know that the pepperoni was good. I had at least 3 slices, and would pick one up every time I came down from the roof to let someone in.
I cannot speak to the veggie or chocolate pizza.