On the first night my hosts decided to take me out to a favorite--Otto, a popular pizza establishment--where they were certain I would be delighted with what they called, "the best pizza in Portland…" if not everywhere. Now, to be honest with you, my dear reader, I am not much on pizza. I mean, I like it okay, and I am always willing to partake…but I generally only eat one slice, two if I am starving to death. But I'm all about the local food, so I was excited and appreciative that my hosts were willing to share this meal with me.
Check the menu. Can you pick out the one we ordered for me?
Yes, we ate mashed potato pizza only because I wanted to try it. They were not thrilled about the idea, but their kindness and generosity overwhelmed their better judgement…and so they indulged me (Thanks, guys! You are filled with goodness and love.) I think they knew I couldn't help myself.
As a Southern girl with Irish roots, I view mashed potatoes as a staple of living. Never was there a trip to the grocery store that we didn't automatically throw in a 10 lb. bag of potatoes. There is a special place in society for mashed potatoes--alongside meat loaf, fried chicken, country fried steak, fried pork chops--oh hell, next to any meat that goes on the plate.
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| Or maybe just have a plate of potatoes for lunch. |
On a pizza? To my chagrin, not so much. Mashed potatoes need to be served drenched in butter or gravy (preferably butter), and they need to be eaten one mouthful at the time, with nothing else to detract from the satisfying warmth of a home-cooked meal, overflowing with the fats and salt that require a two-hour nap on the couch afterwards. Accompanied by bacon and scallion, this was more like having a baked potato (another favorite) drizzled on top of a pizza. Despite my disappointment, it is a popular pizza, recommended by many, but I have another recommendation.
The margherita pizza. I could not get enough. No, really, I couldn't because I had insisted on ordering the mashed potato, thereby reducing the number of delectable slices on the table.
The pizza at Otto is thin but layered with flaky crispness. The toppings are light and flavorful. Every bite was a delight to my senses--the taste, the smell, the texture. Never in the history of this old woman have I desired another slice so passionately, so voraciously. I took a menu, I noted the word, "Otto," in my phone, and I swore that I would never, ever forget this place that surprised my taste buds and gave me a newfound reverence for pizza.
Or maybe it was the fabulous people with whom I had shared this experience.
Or maybe I was just tripping…
julie
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