11:21 PM >> EURO2007 >> Tangent 1


So this something that just must be dealt with in its own post. I mean you all know how much I love pizza, and I finally get a chance to have authentic Italian pizza. (Is pizza even an Italian invention?)

When you go into the little shop to order, there are people standing behind a counter covered in gigantic, rectangular pizzas. You tell them which you want, and with their hands the people ask how much you want. (They also do that by speaking Italian.) Once you've managed to convey how much you want, they use scissors to cut your slice! How cool is that. Finally, the slice is weighed, and you pay based on the weight.

So halfway between the Trevi Fountain and my assault on The Vatican, we stop for lunch (and for me to figure out how to address my wounds). Despite all my bravado, when we get into the pizza place, I chicken out and order a sandwich (also on the counter, also cut with scissors, also weighed, also quite good), but fortunately for me, Meredith got a couple pieces of the sweet pizza you see above.

She was not able to handle both pieces, so I got to polish off half of the above bad boy. It had real bacon, some sort of Italian ham (not prosciutto), roasted red peppers, and some weird mushroom or eggplant-type thing. That description does not do the slice any justice; it tasted like no pizza you'd ever get in the States, not even at Papa Johns. It was like eating three pieces of pizza smushed together and mixed with an anti-pasta appetizer.

I want another.