by Katie Lee
A friend of mine, Melanie Dunea, wrote a book called My Last Supper in which she asks chefs what they would want to eat for their last supper. I’ve often thought about what would be on my plate. I love fried chicken, Thanksgiving dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, my Grandma’s baked steak and gravy, and roast chicken and potatoes from this great little restaurant in Paris.
Gosh, my mouth is watering just thinking of all of those choices.
But ultimately, I think I’d go with the humble pizza pie. Not just any pizza, though. I’m not talking the run-of-the-mill, call up the delivery guy and it’s at my door in 30 minutes or less pizza. I’m talking true Neapolitan-style pie: thin, blistery crust that’s both chewy and crispy, just the right amount of fresh mozzarella, dotted like little islands in a sea of bright red tomato sauce, a sprinkle of salty Parmesan, a touch of fresh basil and a drizzle of the finest extra virgin olive oil.