Pizza strips

Maybe you have to grow up in Italian Rhode Island to appreciate something generously called “pizza strips,” which bear no reasonable resemblance to pizza, but at least they are strips. The are sold at the check out line in gas station convenience stores in stacks, separated by wax paper, in brown pastry boxes. They ostensibly are minimally seasoned spaghetti sauce on thin dough. Yet, somehow, they are favorites among niche eaters, including my daughter the chef.
When she tried to explain this to her co-workers at Alavita, they dismissed it as a breadstick variety, but Becky was undeterred. She found a recipe, purchased the needed ingredients, and made two sets: one for the staff, and another for niche food junkie and boyfriend Russ. Becky had two expectations: the foodies work would pick on her and Russ would devour them.
I am sure she thought there might be some crossover, but could not have predicted the speed with which the foodies would devour them … while picking on her at the same time.
Noma may have exotic haute cuisine. Saffron may cost $100 an ounce, but the pure joy on the faces of foodies fueled by humble pizza strips is priceless.