There are three subjects you must never bring up in polite conversation: religion, politics, and pizza. Not only does it invite bad blood, but you will have as much likelihood of bringing others to your camp as you would single-handedly forging peace among all nations.

Though pizza’s epicenter is understood to be Naples, everyone everywhere has their own style, from dough to toppings to firing method. Pizza is no stranger to being loosely interpreted, and each variation has its own rabid defenders of the faith.

So where in the pizza spectrum does culty, love-it-or-hate-it Pink’s fall? Pink’s, with its shabby seating and bubbly menu font from 1981? Pink’s, which also runs the dubious Asian fusion “bistro” Dragon Bowl? Its wimpy convection oven won’t draw the occultists who worship brick, pumping fists around a 900-degree fire chanting blacken and bubble. It won’t draw the orthodox intellectuals, who argue over which is better, wood or charcoal. Perhaps it will attract the atheists, who declare that no one knows how to use either, anyway, and that calling your pizza coal-fired is an empty gimmick meant to lure in naïve foodies.

Regardless, Pink’s seems perfectly happy to stay out of these arguments with a dough that is delicate, yet firm; tender, yet toothsome; and boring from circumference to center. The crust, Pink’s seem to be saying, doesn’t matter much. What matters is that it holds up under the weight of the delicious toppings you’ll want to heap on top of it. Tomato sauce is made in house and is, like Pink’s disposition, somewhat on the sweet side. The amount of cheese is refreshingly restrained. A “Classic” will come with tart feta, salty Pecorino Romano, fresh mozzarella, Roma tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and plenty of garlic; everything is evenly dispersed in an egalitarian jubilee of flavors—something that pizza devotees, themselves, can never seem to do.

With this kind of solidarity, risks can be taken, like the “Santa Monica,” with Gorgonzola, prosciutto, eggplant, artichoke, cranberries, and an olive oil base (no tomato sauce). The result is fun and care-free, much like the Southern California beach city for which it’s named. In fact, maybe Pink’s is more like that guy who roller skates up and down Venice Beach in a gold lamé thong, with a winged helmet and a boom box, bringing a smile to some and disgusting others as he blissfully does his own thing, unaware of any discord.

Each time I've been, the garlic has been undercooked resulting in a bitter tasting pizza. I love fresh garlic too but unless you get a pizza without garlic, I would not recommend Pinks.

matthou - 2009-09-17 23:26

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