Lord of the Toppings: The Concern of Ordering

Gather round children. Tis time to hear a tale of the amazing pizza I ordered last night:

In a not too distant land, lies The Garlic Knot. It is here that is most important to our story, as it is where the roommates and I have taken to ordering our baked, cheesy, be-decked dough.

Now this Garlic Knot of lore offers many a specialty pizza named after the various lands of Middle York (The Chelsea, the Greenwich Village, The Broadway {this one is just a Hawaiian...})

As exciting as some of these are, I, who was in charge of selecting the fixings for the cheese-cloaked crust,  deemed none of them appropriate for last eve's ventures. All of them were found objectionable in some way for their inability to appear to us cookery-types three. Stephen required protein, Mary Kate is opposed to mushrooms, and I abhor olives.

I was beginning to abandon hope. But alas, I hold Gandalf near and dear to my heart, and thus also his words:

“ 'Despair, or folly?' said Gandalf. 'It is not despair, for despair is only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not.' ”

And alas the fates heard my plea and showed me the way; towards the bottom of the long list of disappointing pizzas was "The Five Borough" of epic five topping proportions (and for a fair value considering the usual expense of make-your-own).

Now came the true challenge in my quest to save our apartment from hunger: enlisting five toppings to help our cause that not only appealed to all, but would work well together in our noble cause.

I retrieved a pen and index card made a bullet for each of the available positions. The first was filled with ricotta, my all time favorite pizza topping that I so rarely see as an option on menus, Then to sate Stephen's need for meat sausage was the next to be inscribed. And the third spot was quickly taken by red onion for Mary Kate.

Instead of over-thinking as I am like to do, for once I went on instinct and finished the list with sun dried tomato and fresh basil, then passed it off to Mary Kate to receive approval before I could question the contents of the night's future dinner, and thus postpone it, any longer.

It was met favorably, and was then handed to Stephen for his consent. An issue was found with the ricotta, but I was resolute on having it. Once it was communicated that this would be in addition to, as opposed to replacing mozzarella, there was no objection to be found.

Now a united front, the order was made. (And through the assistance of wikipedia to answer the trivia question, we also achieved a free order of the eponymous garlic knots).

From this point, the battle was out of our hands. We had only to sit tight and hope the good men roughly a league yonder would continue the good fight.

When at last our pizza was delivered, my name clumsily scrawled on the receipt, and the box open it was found that they had indeed done us proud, and if nothing else cooked up one mighty glorious NY-style pizza

The real moment of truth, however, was yet to be revealed: How did all of these flavors, fantastic as they were on their own, come together as a team? The sun dried tomato particularly was of concern to me, as it can be a rather overpowering flavor that isn't the best at uniting with its compatriots.

Of course, as was the theme of the evening, I need not had worried. 

This may well have been the best pizza I have ever ordered. Absolutely everything was top aces. Hats off to you, you wonder folks at The Garlic Knot