Imagine the scene. It’s 4 p.m. on Friday after a long week. Before loading up the car for the requisite sports practices, you approach your kids with a smile.
“Guess what, guys?! After practice tonight, we’re gonna get pizza!”
Your excitement bubbles over as you say the words, giddiness pushing your voice higher as you imagine a night without cooking, dishes, and half-eaten plates. Tonight you will get pizza! Everyone will be happy! Visions of your childhood pizza nights dance through your head, the melted cheese almost so real you swear you can taste it on your tongue.
But then, the unexpected. Instead of cheers and fist pumps, the crowd gets quiet. So quiet that you begin to tremble. Because you know what’s coming next. The negotiations.
The opening line, spoken by the bravest?
And with that, all fantasies of an easy Friday night dinner are gone.
When this problem started about a year ago, I used to blame the kids for being disagreeable. Lately, I’ve started to accept some blame for myself.
I mean, I’m half Italian, love pizza, and have strong ties to New Haven, the official Pizza Capital of the U.S. My grandparents grew up in New Haven and met at Zuppardi’s Apizza. My great-grandfather Carmen Vegliante graduated from Yale School of Art in 1929, then painted signs for many New Haven pizzerias to make extra money during the Great Depression. We even believe one of his works – the menu inside Modern Apizza – still hangs today.
So, my kids have grown up with a mom who loves pizza in a region saturated with award-winning spots. The result? The kids have sampled some of the very best pizzas in the country. And have developed three very different tastes. Or what I now like to call pizza profiles.
Profile One: The Apizza Lover
This is my oldest. With a love for tomato sauce and a lukewarm feeling about mozzarella, she constantly asks for what is known in New Haven pizza circles as the plain pizza or the original tomato pie. Thin crust, crushed tomatoes, basil, and grated cheese. Sometimes, with pepperoni on top. Her favorite pizza hails from Ernie’s Pizzeria in New Haven (a family favorite since I was a kid). Still, thankfully, we have enough New Haven outposts in Fairfield to usually satisfy her urge.
Profile Two: The New Yorker
Please don’t burn my crust and do not skimp on the mozzarella, says my middle. His favorite pizza has plenty of sauce, a healthy portion of cheese, and a slightly thicker crust – without the char. And don’t forget the sausage, just as long as it’s high-quality Italian. Think Nauti Dolphin or Italian Kitchen.
Profile Three: Extra Cheese, Please!
New York, Greek, or deep dish. As long as it’s smothered in cheese, my youngest is all smiles. Just don’t let a pepperoni or sausage touch the box because even the scent of those toppings can potentially ruin it. As can a burnt crust or too much sauce. Her local favorite? Fairfield staple Captain’s Pizza.
This leads me to my family’s wild card, which, in these parts, is known as “bar pizza.” Think hot oil and sausage, usually enjoyed at Colony Grill for sit-down and Riko’s for delivery. For many years, this was a win, with my two oldest still big fans. But now that my youngest has opinions, she has decided there just isn’t enough cheese to satisfy her cravings. So, what was once a winner now still leads to whining.
All of this is to say that pizza night in our house is often complicated. And yet, we are a family; my kids are a quarter Italian, and pizza nights are a requirement. So, we have learned to carry on, compromising along the way.
My oldest has learned to ask restaurants for a small pizza without mozzarella. My son has learned to eat cheese pizza when the sausage doesn’t meet his standards. And my youngest has learned that sometimes she’s just going to have to deal with less cheese and a little char.
While I sincerely hope that one day they learn to love all pizza styles, more importantly, I hope this simple, everyday lesson in compromise, gratitude, and respect will carry over into other parts of life.
Because, like with most parenting, it’s not just about the pizza. It’s about learning to wait your turn, be thankful for what you have, and control your emotions, even when something doesn’t go your way.
And if anyone asks me about my pizza order, you know I’m choosing apizza. In fact, after writing this, I might just have to plan a trip back to the Pizza Capital of the U.S. Something tells me if I promise the kids cannolis from Lucibello’s, I might just make everyone happy.
