There is something of a long-standing debate, if Top Chef informed me correctly, between Chicago and everywhere else as to what makes a good pizza. Should it be deep-dish?  Is it something Californian with salad greens and prosciutto?  Who knows, and frankly, who cares?

I’ve had two great pizzas in my life.  One was at a wonderful cafe in the sun in Rome, and the other was at To The Herbs, an Italian restaurant we used to frequent in Japan.  To The Herbs had numerous varieties, some traditional and some slightly more “Japanese” in taste, but the quality of the dough and the flavors were always extraordinary.

I’m sure we’ve all had our fair share of good pizzas, and even when abroad for a quick dose of “American” flavor I could always order Dominos or Papa John’s (bleh!).  But the one type of pizza that is truly lacking abroad (and in places like California, my friends inform me) is the greasy, super cheesy, Italian-American pizza from New York.  That is the pizza I grew up on, and it is difficult to eat, ridiculously bad for you, and leaves you feeling distinctly slimy.

That’s from Joey’s Place, our local slice of heaven/hell, depending on how you look at it.  The funny thing is that it’s one of the biggest foods I look forward to eating whenever I come home from abroad.  I guess you can take the boy from Jersey, but can’t take the Jersey out of the boy.