Guilty Pleasures: Pizza

by Wendy Webb

Over the years I have eaten many, many pizzas and only one I didn’t like. At all. I was living in a small town in France with my friend Barb after both of us had graduated from college here in the states. We were supposed to be furthering our French educations at a small university there and we did that, but we were mainly enjoying the unfettered, gloriously uncomplicated life of the young — no responsibilities, no jobs, no worries, no commitments — in the French countryside.

I said we were “furthering” our French educations because neither of us was fluent in the language yet. There were words we didn’t know. Words on menus.

One evening, as most Americans will do abroad, we developed a hankering for pizza. So Barb and I set out for a local restaurant that was rumored to make a good pie. We sat down, opened our menus and began perusing the various pizza choices. One featured fried eggs. Another, raw beef. A third, snails. No, no and no. But then we saw it: Pizza Americaine. Now we’re talking. Tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, oregano, basil. That sounded like pizza to us. But there was one topping we couldn’t translate. Thon. Sure, laugh, all of you French speakers. You know what’s coming. But we didn’t. We figured, how bad could it be? One ingredient? Even if we don’t like it, we can pick it off.

The pizza was covered in a thick layer of flaked tuna. And, though it was not on the list of toppings, a fried egg.

The moral of that story: When in France, order the coq au vin.

As horrid as that was, it didn’t put me off pizza. I love it, I’ll admit it, and I’m not ashamed of my love.

Deep dish certainly has its place in the world. Green Mill and Old Chicago in Canal Park do it up right. But my favorite pizza has a paper-thin crust, a slightly sweet tomato sauce, just the right amount of cheese and only one other ingredient: Pepperoni.

I might be slightly biased in my pizza preferences, however, and for this I blame my parents. They grew up in a small town in Wisconsin, Hurley, where the population consists mainly of Italians (and Finns, but we’ll discuss pasty at another time). It is my opinion that in Hurley you will find the best pizza this side of Italy , at the Liberty Bell Chalet and Pizza King Joe.

The Bell was opened by the Fontecchio family nearly 80 years ago. They still own the place, and still guard the pizza recipe. Here you’ll find a crispy thin crust, the best sauce I’ve ever had (I always ask for more on the side for dipping) and excellent toppings. Pizza King Joe is on Silver Street, just across the bridge in Ironwood. Owner Louise Demasi’s father, Joe (the Pizza King) reportedly brought the first pizza oven to Hurley from Italy. Thin crust, tasty toppings, hot out of the oven, there’s nothing better. Louise’s chicken alfredo pizza is a change of pace from the tomato sauce variety — if it’s possible to need a change of pace from that.

As good as Hurley’s pizza is, several places in Duluth~Superior give it a run for its money. My brother, Randy, used to swear by the Shamrock in Superior. “Best pizza in the world,” he’d say. “Hands down.” I also love the paper-thin pies at Grandma’s Sports Garden and I’ve just discovered the home-made pizza at The Thirsty Pagan in Superior and the tasty pie at the Edge Waterpark. Many native Duluthians are loyal Sammy’s fans. But, I must admit it, my favorite pizza in this area can be found at a bowling alley in Hermantown.

It’s Dave’s Pizza, located at Skyline Bowling Lanes just across from the golf dome. I discovered this pizza quite by accident, at a birthday party we held there for my son, Ben. He was in first grade, and I wasn’t entirely thrilled with the idea of entertaining a houseful of six-year-olds. Somebody told me about the great job Skyline does with kids’ parties — pizza, pop and bowling for a reasonable price, with the added benefit of you not having to clean up after the party. I gave it a whirl and was hooked. We held several parties there. And I developed a renewed interest in bowling, dragging my family there whenever they would agree to it. This wasn’t because I was so thrilled with the idea of wearing somebody else’s shoes and it wasn’t because I loved bowling. It was the pizza. It’s out of this world.

My favorite way to eat it is right there onsite, hot, out of the oven. But, if you live within a reasonable distance (we don’t, darn it all) they’ll deliver. Or, you can buy their frozen or take-and-bake pizzas to cook at home.

And the best part? Not a flake of tuna in sight.