That First Slice

As for so many others, pizza holds a special place in my first food memories. I will never forget the first time I went to Frank Pepe Pizzeria on Wooster St. in New Haven, Ct. Before we get to that I need to give you some background. As a kid I was never a big eater, I ate like a bird as my mother used to say. In my family, you had to finish what was on your plate. Many times, to accomplish this, what was left on my plate was transported for disposal in my front right-hand pants pocket. I had become adept at making my unfinished meals disappear without notice under the table and into my pocket.

As I think back to another dining out experience in my early childhood, feelings of anxiety still come up. We were at a local Italian restaurant. These were the days when it was normal for the meal to include a salad course and the portions were enough to feed three grown adults. I ordered the kid's pasta with red sauce. When my dinner arrived, it was a mountain of spaghetti that no matter how much I ate I was never going to finish, and there was no way of catering off the remaining pasta in my pockets. I remember my stomach tightening and a building feeling of dread. Any appetite I had at this point was lost, I think I only ate about three bites of Spaghetti Mountain. Until then, I don’t remember having many positive food memories, other than the things most kids enjoy like cakes, cookies, ice cream, and McDonalds.

That all changed on my first visit to Pepe's Pizza. As soon as we got there, I knew something was different. People were lined up down the sidewalk. My Dad, who had no patience to wait for anything, was happy to stand in line. You could feel excitement and anticipation in the air. When we finally got inside there were pictures of famous people, and even Presidents of the United States who visited this pizza shop on the walls. You could see the pride and swagger in the cooks, the way they tossed the dough around, put toppings on and cut the finished pizzas. Still, I wasn’t as excited as the other patrons, but I was getting hungry.

Once we sat down, my Dad explained how Foxon and Parks sodas were part of the experience, I remember getting a grape soda. I really wasn’t allowed to drink soda and that first sip was sweet ice-cold deliciousness. We ordered a cheese pizza and a bacon onion pizza. When it arrived, it looked like so much pizza for our family of four, the memory of Spaghetti Mountain was creeping up on. The first bite almost burnt the roof of my mouth off. However, when it finally cooled off enough to eat, I was blown away. While we used to get pizza every Friday night, this was a whole other level. The dough was light, soft, and crispy all at the same time. The sauce was sweet but didn’t overpower any of the other ingredients. The cheese was warm creamy perfection. Before I knew it, I had eaten half a pizza, by far the most I had ever eaten at once. This experience stirred emotions of satisfaction, pride, and accomplishment within my young 9-year-old self. It also sparked a love of pizza and food that I still have to this day. It gave me an understanding that food doesn’t have to be complicated to be excellent. What’s most important is using the best ingredients and techniques available.

I wanted my kids to have the same experience. As they grew up, we made it a point to try the top-rated pizza places in our area, and we have more than a few. But I’ll never forget, and I know they won’t either the first time they had a slice of cheese pizza at Pepe’s.