Warning: this post contains multiple images of pizzas and calzones eaten during the course of one trip.
How much pizza can one human being safely consume in a month?
Part of the way through my Italy trip and… I never thought I’d hear myself say this… I’m getting a bit sick of pizza! *Gasp*
Don’t get me wrong, I love Italian food. And ordinarily I’m the first to get excited by the sight of pizza on a menu. But when it’s the staple foodstuff practically everywhere you eat and you’ve already had it 7 or 8 times (twice in a day on one occasion!), the thought of even one more slice can get pretty sickening.
I’ve had a lot of pasta too – tagliatelle, carbonara, ravioli, lasagne. And it’s generally very nice.
But when it comes to pizza I’ve realised I can be conveniently forgetful.
When I’m hungry and out for lunch or dinner in Italy, it’s other diners’ pizza that always looks so much more satisfying, filling, and generally better value for money (which I’ve found to be a great excuse for justifying it). Small portions of pasta on a plate somehow lose their appeal. And all of a sudden I’ve forgotten last night’s lamentations during my last few mouthfuls of the stuff and I’m ordering yet another pizza! Or a calzone, which I’ve been trying to convince myself is ok because it’s significantly different to a pizza. It’s not.
What’s wrong with me?
But, hey, at least I’ve come up with the wonderful excuse that if I’m travelling in the land where pizza originated then it’s ok to keep “testing it”. Or something like that. To be honest, the pizza I had in Naples (the official birthplace of the pizza) was, fittingly, the best I’ve ever had and can’t be topped (excuse the pun). But I seem to keep trying regardless…
Annoyingly there’s a lovely-looking pizza restaurant about a minute’s walk from my Lucca (Tuscany) apartment. That’s going to be tricky to avoid.
One thing’s for sure – I’m going to have to hit the gym – hard – when I get home! Right now I’m off for some pizza…