Greenwich: Proudly Pinoy pizza

There are days when you are foie grased out. Days when you cannot do any more stiff white cloths, fancy-shmancy silverware, impeccable waiters and service … those moments when you dread seeing another millefeuille of vegetables and another ring-molded towering concoction boasting exotic spices, subtle flavor and perfect technique.

Sometimes I want to get down and dirty and eat something salty, greasy and oh, so satisfying. I want to grab something with my hand, chomp it down and be comforted in knowing that each time I go back to my guilty pleasures I will never be disappointed. No fish will be overcooked, no sous-vide beef mushy in my mouth and no risky flavor combinations to throw me into foodie existentialism. Sometimes I want something that always tastes the same. A familiar comfort like the ratty pillow I keep from my childhood hidden away behind luscious, king-sized goose-down pillows in 800-count Egyptian-cotton sheets. All gastronomes have that secret comfort pillow of junk food desire. I don’t have one; I have several, just like my pillows (a hotdog-shaped one I kept from birth and a small square one from toddler-dom).

The author Stephanie Zubiri tries her hand at throwing pizza dough in the air — missed her head by a millimeter.

One of my favorite comfort foods is pizza. Not too long ago, a friend of mine, Tina Pamintuan of L’Incontro, and I passed by a large statue of a giant pizza slice. She said to me, “That’s your dream, no? To swim in cheese in a giant pizza?” I laughed it off but she was so right. For my birthday she surprised me with such an enormous, all-cheese pizza slice that I literally almost plopped my face into it. You see, I have my own little pizza ritual and it’s like gearing up for the perfect kiss. Preparation, anticipation, attack and desperation — it will not end. It starts with a moment of admiration and making sure that the first mouthful is perfect. I love to put lots of chili flakes or hot sauce, fold the slice in half and take a nice, enormous bite. I want the strings of cheese to pull out as I desperately try to catch them with my tongue before they stick to my wrists. I want the sauce to be a bit drippy, the crust to be chewy and crispy all at the same time. I love the little burnt bits of cheese on top … a pale pizza is a sad pizza. It has no texture, no flavor, and reminds me of my most miserable kiss on the worst-ever date I experienced.  

Pizza needs to look like it came victorious out of Hades’ lair, looking like a sunburned Roman gladiator … tanned muscular arches and adorned with delicious accoutrements. A good pizza is sexy. You want to ravish it and swim in its cheesy kingdom. A good pizza is even good cold or reheated the next day. A good pizza can be your temporary boyfriend in a moment of utter depression as well as your fiery romance in a moment of self-indulgence. Sigh. A good pizza is the incontestable truth that spans continents, as it is the one food sold and appreciated around the world, crossing borders, nations and religions.

What makes a good pizza? If the idea of pizza can bring a world to peaceful consensus, the framework of a good pizza can create deathly wars.  Tastes and desire vary, styles, toppings, sauces, cheeses and crust … so many choices, so many factors. I love a good Neapolitan-style pizza any day, wood-fired oven, smoky thin crust crisp outside, almost soggy in the middle, gorgeous red tomato sauce, mozzarella and basilico. The perfect homage to La Reina Margherita.  But then again, there are also the New York-style pizzas. Enormous slices, pepperoni, semi-industrial cheese that melts perfectly, the crust that holds up, bold rich flavors …  those fast-food pizzas that really hit the spot, they comfort you in times of breakup, PMS or dreaded hangovers, a friend ready to lend a hand on a lazy day of cooking or an impromptu celebration. The delivery guy is your best friend.

Yummy: It still came out great.

From what I remember back in the day, my sister would come home from Switzerland or San Francisco and she’d request Greenwich Hawaiian Pizza. It used to be square, it had a crust that reminded me of stale sliced tasty white bread and a bright yellow cheese that stuck to your teeth.  I picked off the pineapple because I was allergic, but I loved how the ham would get dry and crispy. Today, they’ve come far and wide from that. Fancy new design, string-melty mozzarella cheese and a snazzy new fresh crust, to use their own words … Greenwich has leveled up. One thing, however: they still sell a whopping average of 90 Hawaiian Overload Pizzas a day across 210 stores nationwide. That’s a crazy 6,898,500 Hawaiian pizzas a year! The pizza stats are baffling; 70 percent of the pizza sales are comprised of Hawaiian orders! My expat friends, especially those of Italian descent, scrunched their noses at even the idea of a pineapple near a pizza. It is truly the Pinoy pizza and with those numbers, Greenwich has got it down right.

Although I am still allergic to pineapple, I am overwhelmingly impressed by the effort that has gone into the research of fast-food pizza for the Filipino population and for constantly trying to improve their products. From the “Sobrang Cheesy” and “Overloaded Pizzas,” their biggest and most ambitious innovation so far is the fresh crust. Three years of research and taking a year and a half to launch, every single pizza ordered in Greenwich is kneaded, pulled, thrown and baked a la minute. Each store has their own dough master that has perfected the art of prepping the dough for toppings in under one minute. I’m not sure if any of you have tried doing this yourself, but to come out with hundreds of even, consistent pizzas every day is no easy task. The one I made had holes I had to patch up, uneven edges that bubbled up like the creature from the black lagoon when cooked, not to mention the unsanitary moments when it almost plopped on my head as I threw it in the air.

Inspired by the New York-style pizza, the crust is both chewy and crisp; it also holds up well in delivery. For those like me who remember the stale, tasty sliced-bread pizza-crust days, we can agree that this deserves a gold medal. Greenwich pizza may not be a Roman gladiator, but perhaps it’s best incarnated by local sweetheart John Lloyd Cruz, whose classically Pinoy looks, romantic movie roles and best-buddy goofy antics are exactly what the Philippines want. It is a consistent and comforting flavor tailor-made for Filipinos — a touch of cheesy romance, over-the-top drama and slapstick comedy. I have to admit, whereas once put off by the sticky yellow cheese and toast-bread crust, I am now a convert. Certain aspects of flavor and texture of Greenwich appeal to my Filipino roots full-force. There’s a slight sweetness to the sauce that offsets the bold saltiness of the toppings, there is that hint of spiciness that I really enjoy. And because their research shows its approval, there is still a slight trace of that sticky yellow cheese hidden between layers of mozzarella that reminds me of my happy childhood moments with my balikbayan sister. It will just have to be one of those things like tuyo and danggit that, with my half-Italian boyfriend, I will proudly agree to disagree. I don’t like sharing my pizzas anyways.