SAUCE COUNT

if you're a true pizza-head,
and you know about what's really 'hood when it comes to that original,
authentic old-school paisano flavor,
the you know that new haven pizza is the TRUTH.
no jokes,
no allowances,
no exceptions.
and when i'm in new haven,
i'd be remiss, and also a total A-hole,
if i didn't re-up my sauce count.
what?
you don't know about the sauce count?
c'mon, man.
get with it.
it's like white blood cells, or platelets,
or serotonin, or somethin' like that.
there's an acceptable parameter for the presence or absence of sauce.
and when it gets low,
you get all kinds of effed up.
that's no joke.
once you have some frank pepe's pizzeria napoletana apizza,
your body is immediately and irrevocably reliant on a infusion of
that mutha-F*ing life-giving sustenance SAUCE, son.
i'm serious.
too long without hometown pizza, and you'll wither away to nothing.
i've experienced it before,
and been forced to journey to connecticut to save myself.
neighbors-
this is a serious matter.
...and yeah,
i DO get busy with the crushed tomato pies up in the woodsly goodness,
but,
by the forceful genetic pull of some long-suffering latent weaponized
mutant guinea X-factor in my DNA,
awakened by the first slice of 'za, ages and ages ago,
i'm dependent on the intermittent inoculation against weak sauce
by some of this lil'-italy-style wooster square BOSS SAUCE.
thank goodness for the spot, bros.
yep.
the original, semi-secret, next-door location for those world famous jauns....
check the teleport:

no cheese? no worries.
that's right.
it's the first item on the flippin' menu,
because really real ones know what time it is.
and it's no cheese o'clock, b!tch.
we love the tradition of returning over and over to the same place,
for the reliably expert excellence of our favorite food.
plus,
thee's a special kind of pride in living far away,
but being remembered by every server in the space,
every time i'm in town,
because of our long-standing quadruple-generational family ties,
and impenetrable patronage to the best pizza on the planet.
that's word.
*
in addition,
the first two days of my trip included a whole other 'nother special tradition,
begun six years ago, as a mandatory berfday pre-party party for me and my peoples.
uh-huh.
sweet claude's ice cream parlor has what i need, nerds.
teleport:

EMERGENCY TOFUTTI!!!!
what's the emergency?
it's a tub of scoopable 'scream, waiting for my face.
that's some red-alert sh!t, man.
strawberry and fudge ripple??
expert.
...and look,
day two kept it just as real:

WORD!!
cookie and chocolate chunk!!!
expert.
that's what we do, me and mine.
we tale it to eleven,
we add sprankles,
we feast and we fight and we fete and we feel all the important feelings,
louder, and harder, and bigger than is ever considered advisable.
why?
because too much is the right amount,
and that's the way it's gotta be.
i am so super grateful for all of it,
as it all really happens,
-the gift of spanning time, with these children,
who are becoming actual people,
and they're becoming real life people who i just happen to like,
at least thus far.
that's a win, buddy.
i'll take 'em where i can;
never quiet, never soft.....