Slice House

You’ll need a knife and fork to tackle the Heirloom from Heirloom Pizza Co., which features a buttery crust loaded with spinach, bacon, mushrooms, onions, garlic, ricotta and an atypical topping of gorgonzola.

This week’s Burning Question caused a fracas even before it left the Weekly’s majestic—and usually serene—offices.

“Real easy—it’s not really pizza,” said editor Sara Rubin, weighing in without hesitation. She’s a New Jersey native with an affinity for the thin and pliable New York style that borders on defiant. But newswriter and former Chicagoan Mary Duan jumped in with equal confidence, politely yet firmly insisting the naysayers lack even a shred of common sense.

Yikes! Some issues are divisive—the short term rental measure in Pacific Grove, Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court nomination, Trump’s...well, pretty much everything—yet they pale in comparison to one’s stand on a deep dish pizza with toppings stacked upside-down.

Now, there is a thin crust pizza also claimed by the Windy City, often referred to as tavern- or pub-style and sharing a similarity to Detroit- and St. Louis-styles, in that all three are cut into square slices—except the Detroit rests on a thick mat of dough, and the St. Louis pizza starts off round, so...

OK, best to stop before I’m forced to explain Provel. Look it up.

Yet regional identity is part of the reason people take sides with such passion at the mention of deep dish. A survey presented by the location data company Factual in 2013 showed that both coasts and the deep south strongly favored New York pies, while the good old heartland of America stood by Chicago.

The only break in the line of blue thin crust states? Massachusetts, where a long-time rivalry exists between Boston and the Big Apple—and not just in baseball. Try being the peacemaker in a New England vs Manhattan clam chowder spat.

“There’s a lot of regional pride,” agrees David Rodriguez, who prepares New York and West Coast pizzas at The Oven in Seaside.

Rodriguez believes some of the preference for thinner crust may have to do with the weight of Chicago-style pizzas. Piled with cheese on the bottom, layers of meat and vegetables with a healthy dollop of crushed tomatoes on top, brimming over a crust that can withstand two inches of toppings, the pies are often a hefty four pounds or more.

“When you turn pizza into a meat pie—we’re in California, so we’re health conscious,” adds Jeano Abraham of Allegro Gourmet Pizzeria in Carmel.

And the master of the Peninsula’s first edgy pizza also contends that geographic differences are central in the dispute.

“Chicago is a cold, windy, tough place,” Abraham says, forgetting to add the big shoulder bit. “There you need something more substantial.”

Yet Michael Foley of Heirloom Pizza Co. in Monterey argues that many people are just stubborn when it comes to pizza. They resist certain toppings (he’s talking about you, pineapple) and certain styles.

Foley features a Chicago-style crust at Heirloom and says the haters are in the minority. He reports sales roughly 60-40 in favor of deep dish at the restaurant, and expresses surprise the thin version does that well.

“It’s the crust—it’s crispy and buttery, it’s light but it’s got a lot of substance,” he explains.

You see, despite its bulk, Chicago-style crust is not pudgy. Pressed into an oiled pan, a crackling veneer develops, framing a rich but almost airy and delicate layer of dough—like a pie crust, though sturdy enough to support the behemoth within...at least when done properly.

Of course, critics are put off by the sheer size and the strata inside, requiring fork and carving knife archaeology. They often call it a tomato and cheese pie. During an epic Daily Show rant in 2013, Jon Stewart went further, snidely comparing Chicago’s deep dish pies to an “above-ground marinara swimming pool.” And he didn’t stop there, declaring that it should be cast from the pizza ranks and labeled a mere casserole.

“I’m surprised you haven’t thought to complete your deep dish pizza by putting some canned onion top of it.”

Stewart took particular issue with the reverse construction of the toppings.

“In defiance of man and God and all things holy, you poured uncooked marinara sauce atop the cheese. Atop. The cheese. On top.”

Still waiting for his take on cheese baked inside the crust.

But Stewart and Rubin are not the only ones who insist on kicking Chicago out of the pizza style club, putting fans on a constant defensive.

“You could say it’s not pizza, but it is a pie,” Foley says.

Don’t get the connection? Well, none other than Dean Martin confirmed the dual role of pizza way back in the 1950s. Remember “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie”? For decades, the phrase “pizza pie” was just as common as “pizza” in public use, whatever the style in question. Hell, even the feds ruled as much when they marked February 9 as National Pizza Pie Day.

We might quibble with the deep state, but not Deano. So the people who dismiss Chicago-style pizza as a pie have it all wrong. But those who knock it down to the casserole level, well…

“It does remind you of casserole,” Foley admits. “It tastes better the second day, just like casserole.”

So how did this pizza casserole thing wind up in the Windy City? We can thank someone at Pizzeria Uno in the Hog Butcher for the World’s northside. There is general agreement the Chicago-Style pizza was first clean and jerked off the counter there in 1943. There is, however, a long-running and often heated donnybrook over the individual responsible. And another over where it is prepared best—Uno, Gino’s East, Giordano's, Pizzeria Due, Lou Malnati’s, Pizano’s or one of the others.

Geez—Sandburg was right when he described the city as “Stormy, husky, brawling.”

So why does the Chicago-style pizza inspire so much passion? I’m not sure there is one clear answer. Rather, it’s a maelstrom of personal taste, regional preference, bitter little inter-city rivalries and the natural human tendency to insist that one’s own way is the right way.

Foley suggests people try one with an open mind first. If it’s not to your taste, that’s fine. And Rodriguez, the county’s New York-style pizza master, agrees.

“I’m a peace and love kind of guy,” he says. “As long as people put craft to it, I don’t see why people should hate it.”

(2) comments

Jeffrey Rothal

To paraphrase Mr. Ross (when asked about chickens vs. hens vs. roosters) in the Seinfeld episode called "The Rye," THEY'RE ALL PIZZAS. [script can be found at http://www.seinfeldscripts.com/TheRye.htm]

Derek Dean

I never met a pie I didn't like : )

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