CHICAGO DEEP DISH VS NEW YORK THIN PIZZA? HOW DOES A SOCRATIC SCRIBBLER DECIDE THIS ULTIMATE QUESTION?
Yes, we know what Socrates thinks about questions like virtue and justice and the ideal state and the good. But when it comes to really important questions like the ideal pizza, where does Socrates stand? Just because he lived 2,500 years ago doesn’t enable him to escape this question that affects the civic pride of so many. We need his authority for such a momentous decision. So, I grabbed my Socratic Scribbler pencil and used Socrates’ method of question and answer to put this problem to rest.
The Socratic Scribbler Way demands that we agree on what we think a pizza is before we can decide what the best is. By what criteria could we possibly decide? Socrates began his discussion of virtue by asking his young friend Meno what all virtues have in common, what makes them virtues. So, too, we will begin by asking what all pizzas have in common? Well, that’s a tough one.
Maybe they are all Italian? Hawaiian style doesn’t quite fit. Cheese…surely all pizzas have cheese except for the “cheeseless” for the lactose intolerant. A crispy crust?…not for those following a low carb or keto diet. Tomato sauce. Mushrooms. Sausage. Pepperoni? Pineapple? The infamous anchovy. Hot? We all know someone who thinks pizza is best cold and even cures a hangover. It seems that we can identify no one physical characteristic or ingredient or condition that all pizzas share. They are not even all round, even though we call them pizza pie, or is it pi.
Some might say that the only true pizza, the Plantonic form of pizza, can be found in the pizza heaven of Italy and its mythical history of the origins of “aunthentic” Italian pizza. And where would that be, right next to authentic Chinese chop suey?
Well, one thing all pizzas share is that they are fun to eat. Maybe that works. Well, yes, it does. Saying that eating any kind of pizza is not fun, even frozen, is sort of like saying that sex, even frozen, is not fun. For the overwhelming plurality of people, eating pizza is fun. (Is there such a thing as a pizza pervert?) Still, that does not get us very far. Eating chocolate is fun. Eating potato chips is fun. How can we separate pizza fun from other food fun?
Perhaps we need to take a more metaphysical approach and mentally chew on the pizza experience. For instance, my friend Katie was telling me this afternoon about Pizza Remorse, the feeling you get when you intended to eat two slices but then ate nine. I responded by talking about a kind of Heideggerian Dread that overwhelms me before eating pizza, knowing that it is inevitable that I will eat every piece I can get…something as certain as indigestion that follows. And unlike the last cookie, we all know that the last piece of pizza is worth fighting over or at least worth hoarding for breakfast in the morning. Already we are deep into the ethics of pizza…wasting pizza is a mortal sin in anybody’s religion, including atheists. Why even Nietzsche would go into Dionysian snit dance if Wagner took his last piece!
Look at the Socratic mess we are in. We can be very sure of some things about pizza and eating pizza, yet we cannot even define what pizza is. So, maybe there is no ideal or best pizza. That makes us like Protagoras… That other ancient Greek who made the first eloquent argument that his truth is as good as your truth. So too my pizza is good for me and your pizza is good for you. I have to agree with Plato and even Aristotle here that this kind of relativism is a cowardly way to think and live, where no one can be corrected by someone who knows more. If my math is as good as your math, then we are all in trouble, especially you if I owe you money. Not all pizzas are equal. Everybody has a favorite. The issue now becomes, on what grounds can a pizza become your favorite pizza?
So my wife Karen, who is always right, thinks that the best pizza is the pizza that you grew up with…whatever kind that was. It was the best pizza because it was the food you shared with family and friends, that you wolfed down when you went bowling or came home from a party. Indeed, think how revealing people’s talk about pizza can be and even serve as a warning sign. That fellow who declares “I hate anchovies. Don’t dare order it.” That fellow is probably not a good prospect for a get along, go along husband. He should be smart enough to offer the anchovies to someone else, someone he does not like. In fact, did we not all learn how to negotiate by arguing what will go on the family pizza? Did we not forever brand ourselves by declaring our sure preferences? Our taste in pizza is always an acquired taste, after experimenting and compromising on toppings. Our pizza preferences reveal our character, or lack there of.
So, notice where Socratic Scribble thinking takes us. If it seems logically impossible to define characteristics or an ideal pizza, perhaps we must surrender to the my pizza for me, your pizza for you relativism. I am not so sure.
What if there is aakind of eating experience that is specific to pizza? Pizza is fun to eat because it is always comforting in some squishy way, perhaps with gooey dough or stretchy cheese, complemented by something a bit exciting, a crisp crunch or a spicy flavor of some kind, a yin and yang between comfort and excitement. A cheese pizza that is just soggy and “comforting” that is not offset at least by some kind of crunch or flavor with an umph does not deliver an authentic pizza enjoyment. How this synergistic contrast is created is the art of making pizza.
I believe that most of us have two ideal pizzas…first the pizza we grow up with. And then the first pizza that we have with beer or wine, the time we are striking out on our own. I am sure that you are all aware that thin crust, New York-style, is best eaten with your favorite beer accompaniment. And, New Yorkers tell me that their pizza is best eaten while walking. Deep dish goes better with wine, eaten in a dark pizzeria booth decorated with carved initials of love, for surely, pizza is a species of love.
As a Chicago boy, I grew up near a neighborhood pizzeria run expertly by Asians who made New York style thin crust pizza…which continues to be a favorite of mine for certain kinds of occasions…usually large groups…football games, birthday parties, and the like. However, when I am having pizza as a sit-down meal with few friends, then nothing satisfies like a genuine deep dish Gino’s or Due’s pizza with a glass of merlot (If you can still find one, since its attempted extermination by the makers of the movie Sideways.
I think we might discuss and dispute the ideal Chicago style pizza, just as New Yorkers might discuss the ideal thin slice. Indeed, a visit to Google Pizza tells us that pizza has been an amazing scattershot phenomenon. Did you know that Sweden has the greatest per capita consumption of pizza? Indeed, just about every country of the world these days has evolved some form of pizza, which was long ago modified from any authentic Italian origin. And, Detroit, California, St. Louis, and New Orleans, to name a few, also have created unique pizzas to suit their palettes and life perspective.
Perhaps pizza is like language. If there is an “ideal language” then nobody speaks it…indeed, it turns into a kind of puzzling math. Instead, every community united by a shared locality and way of life seems to generate its own language…and its own pizza. Pizza is what my friend Steve would call a “planetary” rather than a global phenomenon, universal but diverse.
The better arguments will be over who makes the best New York style pizza, or the best St. Louis Pizza, or the best Swedish pizza. This way specific and Plato like standards can be developed and disputed. Perhaps there is a lesson here for world peace? Competition should always be followed by celebration, not conflagration. Why there may not always be an ideal, there is surely always a best. I’ll have mine with pepperoni and a glass of disgusting merlot!!
