A Moment of Weakness
Journal Entry #35
July 6, 2022
It has been ten months since I last had a proper pie.
Not pie in the “crusted fruit pie” sense, but in the classic NJ sense…PIZZA.
When we headed out on our year-long journey I was clear about my boundaries. I told Tom that I would NOT order or eat two specific food items on the road— pizza and bagels. Of these two, pizza has its own particularly special place in my heart. It’s been said many times, but I will say it again because it is the plain TRUTH: Pizza is at its absolute pinnacle in the NJ/NYC area.
There were nights that I fantasized about my favorite go-to pie from Star Tavern. I dreamed of the thin semolina flour crust, the homemade, thickly cut, curled discs of pepperoni, the fresh garlic and the delicate, paper-thin slices of breaded eggplant.
As a matter of principle, and out of respect to my long lost pie, while we have been traveling, I have given hard passes to come-ons from suitors like “flatbreads” or pizzas claiming to be “NY style” but were just flirty poseurs, with toppings like beef chili and white beans or tofu and fiddlehead ferns.
I was dismayed to see that nearly every town, even the smallest, no-traffic-light villages, seem have a pizza joint. Alas, temptation was at every turn. There was Pedro’s Pie and Pawn, Woodfired Wonderland, and more Mamma Mia’s Pizzas than I care to mention.
Tom suggested that I would be forgiven if I strayed. He was the whispering devil on my shoulder. But let’s be real here. He spent most of his adult life in Michigan so he couldn’t possibly understand. I wanted to honor the memory of Star Tavern, the Village Trat, and Reservoir (just steps from our old home on South Orange Avenue).
Then… it happened. I broke down. It was a moment of weakness and a desire born of so many months without a pie. I gave in to my basest desires in a little town in Colorado. I’ll blame it partially on the (very good) craft beer on tap. I’ll also throw Tom under the bus too, the he-devil that he was!
I rationalized. I decided this would be a “one-pie stand” and that it wasn’t really cheating because there was nothing about this pie that resembled my coveted NJ pie. It was more like a sexy stranger or a cheap thrill—slathered with chicken, cream cheese, bacon and green chiles. It was irresistible.
Don’t judge me, friends. It tasted really good in the moment. I thought to myself, “How much could this pie hurt? No one needs to know…”
Still, there was a pang of regret and remorse after each eaten slice. I was satiated but not satisfied. The chewy crust was a wake up call; a painful reminder that this just wasn’t my hometown pie.
All pizza aside, we made the decision once we’re done with this journey NOT to land back in what has been my “hometown” in NJ for twenty years. As we get closer to finishing our year on the road, I am coming to accept that I won’t be returning to live in this special place. I still receive updates from Columbia High school where my kids graduated years ago. I still read the Maplewood and South Orange local news. I even idly check the local weather from time to time. This coming weekend is Maplewoodstock, one of my absolute favorite weekends of friends, music and local community love and I am sad not to be a part of it this year.
I have mixed emotions right now. I am absolutely loving the journey we’re on and I am also looking forward to settling down Ithaca, our chosen new hometown, and building friendships and community there. But I also dearly miss the friends and the community in Maplewood/South Orange NJ that both informed and deeply enriched so much of my adult life.
This journey has taught me that I can live well in a small space with very few possessions. But perhaps more profoundly, this trip has shown me that that the definition of “home” transcends a “place” or an address.
“Home” is my dearest friends and family, wherever they are and wherever I go. Those who I most love have eagerly joined us in spirit and have been our biggest cheerleaders for this crazy adventure.
The way I see it now, they will be with us in Ithaca too.
Honestly, I can’t wait to welcome friends, old and new, with open arms when we land. Of course, if you can’t make it to us we always have our “house on wheels” to come visit to you!
We have a place called Pie on the Mountain that is a stones throw from a cidery. If you get near NC mountains come by and give us some tips on our van project! Just had windows, fan, and electrical installed and drove up from Florida.
Two things my younger grown child (who now lives in St Louis) must always have when visiting us back home in NJ - pizza and bagels!