There is a reason they call it 'Chicago-style' deep dish pizza.

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

Whenever I plan an adventure to a new place, I always prepare a list of hidden gems and other attractions to visit, a list to guide me into experiencing those events I believe to be unique or at least characteristic of the locale. I do this even if it is not going to be my first dance in that city, but it becomes that much more imperative if it is! Tending to this list provides me with the most delightful foreplay, amplifying the anticipation in those exciting weeks leading up to my departure date. I am also aware of the implications of over-injecting into this list. Too many items labelled "must see" could potentially set me up for a frenzied address chase resulting in a lackluster vacation afterglow:  too much striving and not enough absorbing interrupts the therapeutic effects of the trip!

For my visit to Chicago last summer, "eat some Chicago-style pizza" occupied a cozy line on my list. Now I am not a maniacal pizza devotee by nature, but I felt as if it should be one of those "things to do". This was nestled in there just underneath "Sip drinks on the 92nd floor of the Hancock" and "Visit Kingston Mines for the gritty blues club experience". (Check! Check!)

It was a Sunday, the final course of a phenomenal four-day excursion with my charismatic girlfriend, a day that was missing its morning due to the fact that we allowed ourselves to sleep in profusely and luxuriously late! - the perfect reason to make pizza the first meal of the day. We scanned our directories and made a few inquiries of the locals, and decided to dine at Pizza Due on Wabash Avenue (which just happened to be down the way from Pizza Uno - yes, affiliated!) Upon our arrival, we descended the cement steps, politely navigating the assembly of other gastronomically inclined individuals and awaited our turn to order. We then proceeded to return to the sunshine to select a suitable piece of patio real estate that would serve as our base for the next hour or so.

Now I will say this: the pizza was not pretty: it was not suffocatingly symmetrical nor was it aesthetically garnished. But who the heck cares when it arrives at your table looking like this:

© Christine Mastroianni, all rights reserved

So I retain: presentation is everything!!! Our lips moistened and our tummies shivered in anticipation of the hearty symphony of flavours we were moments away from devouring.

At this time, I must solemnly release a confession: about halfway into the consumption of this exact slice you now see before you, I had to enlist the services of a knife and fork. Oh! it was such a tough decision to make, and one that I certainly didn't undertake lightly. It is, after all, among the most universal of everyday rules: you don't wear socks with sandals, you don't leave your windows up while driving with the top down, and you don't eat pizza with a knife and fork!!!

Yes, it was a wee bit out of my comfort zone, but totally necessary: this thing was massive! Substantially scrumptious! Densely delectable! Enormously enjoyable! The sauce was of a personality not too sweet nor too acidic. The toppings were hearty and succulent. And the crust was deliciously worthy of its supporting role... unlike any pizza crust I've ever encountered, it was actually reminiscent of the bread pudding in my Mom's turkey dinner repertoire. They don't mess around at Pizza Due. It was a satisfying Check! off my list, and a fine way to usher in day number four of our Chicago experience!