This month’s Food Network Magazine featured 50 Pizzas from 50 States. The pizzeria they selected fom Virginia was Crozet Pizza. Since we were in Crozet visiting Starr Hill, it just made sense to stop by and see what the "Best Slice in Virginia" tastes like.
The Food Network pizza of choice was the white mushroom, which combines shitake and portabella mushrooms and a sauce of herbs and olive oil. I’m not always a fan of mushrooms, but wanted to see what the "best slice in Virginia" tasted like. It was pretty fantastic. There was earthiness and muskiness, but none of the weird mushroom texture. Plus, a healthy sprinkling of thyme and oregano added extra earthiness, helping make the mushrooms simple and full.
But best pizza for the state?
After finishing, I found myself wondering how Food Network came up with their criteria. I rechecked the write-up, and they highlighted the crust and combination of mushrooms. Ellie and I both agreed that we really enjoyed the pizza, but neither of us felt that it was the best pizza we had ever had in Virginia. As mushroom pizzas go, this was the best mushroom I’ve had and probably will have, but the "best" for Virginia?
I’ve never been comfortable with “best” designations. Whether it be films, books, songs, or food, whenever anyone asks me “what is the best . . . ,” I usually blank. I can’t think of any movie I’ve seen or restaurants that I’ve gone to or foods I've eaten. I'm intrigued when someone else can use the term "best" with such proficiency because God knows I can't. Don’t get me wrong, I really love watching shows like Food Network’s “Best Thing I Ever Ate . . .” series. In fact, I actually had to stop watching them because I was irrationally starving after every episode and nothing I had in my house matched the 30-minutes of delicacies and dishes I been drooling over.
I think the biggest fault I have with this superlative is that how can my criteria be your criteria, my tastes your tastes, my expectations your expectations? When I come across “best” lists, I try nowadays to expect that it will good, maybe great, but how can a list know what is my preeminent slice when I, myself, usually have a hard time deciding what I think is tops. I can usually say this is the best of a thing I’ve had to date, but I doubt it will go down as the best ever. If at 29 I have the best slice of pizza of my life or best meal of my life, wouldn't that be sad?
Do I have to even know what is the best? Silly question and somewhat rhetorical, I know, but really, think about it. As food writers and bloggers, it is very alluring to weigh down in authority on what you recommend, what you qualify, what you call the best. Why? Can’t we settle for, go try it and here's evidence as to why. Or, recommend that if in getting pizza in Virginia, got to Crozet pizza because there is a mushroom pizza there that is worth trying. Does it have to be the best in Virginia? Can it be, universally for all, the "best?"
But best pizza for the state?
After finishing, I found myself wondering how Food Network came up with their criteria. I rechecked the write-up, and they highlighted the crust and combination of mushrooms. Ellie and I both agreed that we really enjoyed the pizza, but neither of us felt that it was the best pizza we had ever had in Virginia. As mushroom pizzas go, this was the best mushroom I’ve had and probably will have, but the "best" for Virginia?
I’ve never been comfortable with “best” designations. Whether it be films, books, songs, or food, whenever anyone asks me “what is the best . . . ,” I usually blank. I can’t think of any movie I’ve seen or restaurants that I’ve gone to or foods I've eaten. I'm intrigued when someone else can use the term "best" with such proficiency because God knows I can't. Don’t get me wrong, I really love watching shows like Food Network’s “Best Thing I Ever Ate . . .” series. In fact, I actually had to stop watching them because I was irrationally starving after every episode and nothing I had in my house matched the 30-minutes of delicacies and dishes I been drooling over.
I think the biggest fault I have with this superlative is that how can my criteria be your criteria, my tastes your tastes, my expectations your expectations? When I come across “best” lists, I try nowadays to expect that it will good, maybe great, but how can a list know what is my preeminent slice when I, myself, usually have a hard time deciding what I think is tops. I can usually say this is the best of a thing I’ve had to date, but I doubt it will go down as the best ever. If at 29 I have the best slice of pizza of my life or best meal of my life, wouldn't that be sad?
Do I have to even know what is the best? Silly question and somewhat rhetorical, I know, but really, think about it. As food writers and bloggers, it is very alluring to weigh down in authority on what you recommend, what you qualify, what you call the best. Why? Can’t we settle for, go try it and here's evidence as to why. Or, recommend that if in getting pizza in Virginia, got to Crozet pizza because there is a mushroom pizza there that is worth trying. Does it have to be the best in Virginia? Can it be, universally for all, the "best?"
