One perfect pineapple pizza.

Like most great achievements through time, this started with a bet.  A simple, and stupid bet that should have been researched a little more, or never made at all.  Think of Horatio Jackson or Simon and Ehrlich.  But, late-night ignorance and exhaustion will make you do strange things (i.e. this blog posting).  Comfort will make you do even stranger things.  It was a warm night in August when I was both exhausted and on the verge of comfort.  It took a good three weeks, but I got to a comfort point rallying and herding campers where I thought, "This bet might work out in my favor."  Honestly, I can't even remember now what was in it for me.

So, this started with a bet with Haluk.  It seemed he was back too soon from serving a punishment, and I bet him if he had actually served it I would buy him his own personal pizza with one topping.  We had a small pizza party coming up, you see, and this would be a little reward for being a great camper and not causing too many problems my first go round.  After calling and confirming he had actually served his time, he won the bet.  Anti-climactic, but true.  He wanted a cheese pizza with pineapple on it.  Now, whether this was his favorite, or he was trying to think of something that might be difficult to obtain, I don't know.  I couldn't use the normal pizza place the camp always uses because they don't offer pineapple as a topping.  So, after finding a place in downtown Saratoga Springs, I went out one night and got his pizza.

Before this I had never been a huge fan of the idea of pineapple on a pizza.  Long ago, I was known to tear into a sauerkraut pizza with Canadian bacon on top and love it.  But something about the sweet/sour of the pineapple and the savory of the cheese had turned me off.  That night, when I picked it up, a light rain had begun to fall which turned into a torrential downpour by the time I got back to campus.  The boxes were soaked within seconds of stepping out of the car, and Haluk's pizza fell to the ground.  Suddenly, popping open, I saw the glisten of the pineapple, baked, but not dry, shining bright just on the surface of the cheese.  As if they took the time to take it out of the oven right before finishing and threw those fresh chunks on.  It looked delicious - even as jostled as it was after falling to the ground.  But, I had to eventually hand it over.  I never got to try that pizza, but it stuck with me for another week until I had to head back to North Carolina.

In Herndon, VA, I found myself starving at the end of a long, eight-hour day of driving.  My room was comfortable and cool, and finally, after three weeks of sweating the night away, I was comfortable and cozy.  Mangino's Pizza menu also promised to deliver a freshly baked pizza to my room.  I could lay around watching cable in my shorts and not worry about going back down to the lobby.  And they had a Hawaiian pizza.  I was sold.  After the delivery guy dropped it off I devoured every slice.  Now, I haven't done this since, and eating every piece is not a testament to its flavor, as, so far, this has been the worst pineapple pizza I've eaten.  It was dry, and most of the cheese was cooked so that it came off as a sheet when you bit into the pizza.  The pineapple pieces were tiny and hopeless.  The Canadian bacon (which was just tiny pieces of chopped ham) was tasteless as well, and too much.  I was unimpressed, and vowed to find a decent pineapple pizza.  I'll keep trying them and letting you know what I find.  Hopefully, my quest will help someone out there, and I can only hope that, someday, I can return to that promised land of pizza and try that delicious looking pie that gave Haluk so much joy.