bearnaise | where to eat in dc

"I figured it out!" Zander and I yelled in unison as we walked out of Bearnaise, a new steak frites restaurant from celebrity chef Spike Mendelsohn in Capitol Hill.

We talked over each other with our theories, laughing, hurriedly walking and shivering to the car. It went from an everlasting summer to an intemperate fall in DC in a matter of seconds, it seems.

We were talking about the table next to us at dinner - two women chatting up a storm, and a man scarfing down his food - and wine even faster - and barely saying a word. The two women seemed like friends who were still getting to know each other at times, and at others like long lost soulmates, finding their way back to one another.

As we received our soup or salad course - the first of three in the prix fixe menu - the group next to us were finishing theirs. The older of the two women, dressed fashionably in a black shawl and boots with sleek, straight hair, flirted with the server just enough to get the extra touches: "try this sauce," and "maybe I should get you soup instead of a salad."

Zan and I communicated verbally about our soups - I savored every bit of the salty cheese and carmelized onions in my French Onion, and he lauded the unique balance of flavors in the creamy fall vegetable soup he tried. And we talked nonverbally about the interesting table next to us... They were fairly loud and boisterous - an excited energy about them.

"What's their story?" we silently asked each other.

We got a few clues throughout the meal.

We observed the table order mussels and banter over whose sauce was best while we chowed down on 14 ounce ribeyes. I couldn't finish mine, but I made a valiant attempt that left me over-the-top (of my jeans) full. But it was seasoned just right, and the server was weirdly brusque when I asked his opinion about the four sauces offered with the steak frites, "I don't know. I just don't like it." But he was wrong about the spicy bearnaise, and it was delectable.

Meanwhile, the younger woman got up to use the restroom, and the older woman engaged the guy - it seemed like she wanted to get to know him. And she referenced a flight in the morning - was she here for work, or specifically to see these two?

The server swerved around to the mystery table, who were enjoying two desserts, and the older woman - I think she was a city woman through and through - maybe from New York? - she said the spices were strange in the apple tart, and that brusque server turned smiley and sweet and wouldn't take no for an answer and brought them mousse instead. 

For the record, we had the apple tart, and the pumpkin spice in it was unique but it worked and it tasted like apple and fall and Halloween and Thanksgiving all rolled into one.

By the time we left, they were still chatting - the two women that is - and the lone ranger braving it alone at the far end of the table. As we put on our coats, we saw the older woman put down a credit card for the entire table.

"The guy is definitely the younger girl's boyfriend," I said as we neared the car. "But was he an awkward third wheel, or was he there to specifically meet the older woman?"

"I think they are sisters, and the older one is in town to meet the younger woman's new boyfriend," Zan finished his theory as we opened the doors.

I nodded. I had a hunch he might be right.

Sometimes, I'm not sure if my favorite part of trying a new restaurant is the food or the people watching. At Bearnaise, both were spectacular.

if you go...

Bearnaise

price range: $23-50/person

side dish pick: bearnaise sauce drizzled brussels sprouts

tip: all wine bottles are $40, including sparkling!

where to eat in dc | al dente

Italians value food as pleasure and meals as luxurious affairs. During a recent meal at Al Dente, an Italian restaurant from renowned chef Roberto Donna in the Friendship Heights neighborhood of DC, I transcended mortal satiation and entered a kind of food nirvana, blissful and gratified off fresh mozzarella, the rolling names of pasta varieties, dry wine, and coffee-drenched ladyfingers. 

Zander and I started the meal with complimentary fresh bread and olive oil. The bread basket includes white and wheat bread and the star, Al Dente's Italy-certified pizza crust, for dipping. Already impressed, my burgeoning fandom grew in leaps and bounds when handed the wine menu. Attached to the robust wine list was a selection of local Virginia wines from vineyards small and large, ones I've visited and some of which I hadn't yet heard. Even more astounding, nearly every bottle was in the $30-$40 range, an incredibly reasonable price tag with minimal markup. We chose a dry Viognier from Delaplane Cellars. After one glass, I added Delaplane to my list of must-visit wineries.

We opted to start light with a sharable heirloom tomato salad dressed with onions, fresh basil, gorgonzola dressing and balsamic reduction. Unfortunately, our salad never arrived, and once handed our entrees, we opted to skip it. I have no doubt it would have been fresh and delicious, but I'll have to wait for another chance to taste it.

Zander quickly chose the parsley spaghettini entree with soft shell crab, cherry tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic. The house made pasta came out piping hot, cooked perfectly al dente, and bursting with flavor from the parsley and herbs. I took one bite to try it... and then a second, third, and fourth because I couldn't stop. It was delicious and portioned just large enough to justify the whopping $25.95 cost.

After tasting the charred outside, soft on the inside pizza crust in our bread basket, I needed to taste the whole pizza. I ordered the Salsiccia e Rapini with tomato, smoked mozzarella, pork sausage, broccoli rabe, and garlic. Because I can never resist prosciutto, I added that on ($3). I was stuffed after the first slice, but the fresh cheese and garlic, oh the garlic! kept drawing me back in for more. At $12.95, the pizza is the best deal on the menu and some of the best (if not the best) pizza cooked in the authentic Italian tradition that I've had in DC... or anywhere.

We passively accepted dessert menus, assuming we'd skip it, until our eyes landed on the homemade tiramisu. I can never say no to it. It's a decadent dessert that doesn't rely solely on sugar. It's a balance of bittersweet cocoa and espresso aromas, ladyfingers and a tantalizingly smooth texture. And Al Dente's inimitable, uniquely shaped version, served with a warm chocolate sauce, had me rolling my eyes back with true Italian pleasure.

if you go...

al dente menus

i hear the brunch is particularly good

beware the over-attentive service (a better problem than inattentive service)

there's a free parking garage at night 

where to eat & drink in brooklyn | cafe mogador & maracuja

I've long heard that DC's H Street neighborhood resembles the Williamsburg one in Brooklyn. Hipsters claim both as their stomping ground, local businesses rule the streets, and the bartenders hand out Jameson shots like candy to kids. I got my DC legs on H Street so I had an inkling I'd "get" its Brooklyn counterpart (big sibling?). Williamsburg has the same tight-knit vibe I love about H Street, with the same burgeoning restaurant scene, and some seedier underpinnings. Pam and I found a quaint restaurant on a back street with a stellar wine list and a covered ivy-laced terrace for dinner. We followed it up with champagne and Brooklyn beer at a dirty dive bar with a secret garden out back. I felt right at home in Williamsburg.

 

if you go...

cafe mogador

(one of the bartenders looks like Guillermo from Weeds & Scandal, and i did not mind)

maracuja bar

(ask for the hidden door to the secret garden. tip: charge your phone on one of the holiday lights extensions)

where to eat in lincoln, ne | yia yia's pizza and beer

Whenever I get asked the question, "Why'd you go to school in Nebraska?" with that incredulous voice, like he/she is really asking, Did you know that there is factually nothing there but air and corn? I answer, "Yia Yia's pizza, of course."

Okay, I don't do that. But I should start. It's a far better response than the typical one I give - which is something along the lines of, "Well, in late 1985 I was born in Miami, Florida..." and continues on for a millennium. Exaggeration suits me. But I'm not being hyperbolic when I say that Yia Yia's Pizza and Beer is an incredible restaurant and bar in Lincoln, Nebraska.

It's so much of a gem that it'd be a gem even if it were in Washington, DC. I'm envisioning that scene now - the place would be beyond-fire-code packed every day of the week. It's hipster with 375 bottled beers, rotating drafts, and unpretentious billiards in the back. It's hip with vegan and whole wheat pizza crust options. Its space is community building with a narrow, deep bar and limited seating, encouraging you to chat and sip at the bar. And it's so very summer in DC with its outdoor patio seating. It would be an immediate hit in Washington. But let me back up and tell you what it's like where it is - in my college town.

Yia Yia's lives at 14th and O on the main "O Street" strip. When I was at UNL, it sat next to Bricktop, my favorite bar and nightclub. Bricktop hosted an '80s night every Friday; it was the best night of the week. On several occasions, my girlfriends and I grabbed a slice at Yia Yia's before moving next door to Bricktop to dance our feelings and shake off the pizza calories. (Obviously, my hair was in a high side ponytail, my shirt was off the shoulder, and my tights were mad neon pink.)

Yia Yia's does pizza a little differently. You can purchase it by the slice or pie. A slice is $4.50, and you can choose up to 5 toppings, including a wide array of cheeses, vegetables, and meats from around the world. Their whole pies come in set prices, including $15 for a medium, and it's the same deal - you can choose up to 5 toppings. I love that kind of freedom. When I order from most pizza spots, I'm always stuck, taking forever to narrow down the options - wanting both onions and tomatoes but also what about this kind of cheese? Yia Yia's way makes it easy, or maybe I'm just nostalgic?

I remember one time in college ("this one time, at band camp...") -- I went to grab a slice, okay two slices, with my writing mentor. We picked up our slices at the counter and took them to the back. The front half of of the bar has a few tables with parmasan cheese and crushed red pepper shakers on them; it's incognito as a regular old pizza place. Walk into the back, and the place gets darker, and a few pool tables dot the room. There were other nights like that: pool and pizza, beer and pizza, wine and pizza, vodka and cranberry and pizza - but always, good company and pizza.

Yia Yia's uses the best ingredients and makes their dough from scratch. I love their chunky marinara, and the slightly charred crusts. But the real reason Yia Yia's is a gem in Lincoln and would be anywhere in the country, including snobby DC, is because of the stories and memories created every day inside its walls. Going back there with my college girlfriend Pam this weekend reversed time, erased a few gray hairs, and made me feel like the world was huge and a little piece of it is mine and that anything is possible and friendships are forever.

And that's the real reason why I went to college in Nebraska.

where to eat in dc | le diplomate

I took French in high school because my Mom spoke near fluent Spanish, and I was too contrary for my own good. My brother smartly took Spanish when he was in high school, four years ahead of me. He and my mom would stand out on our back porch swatting at mosquitos as twilight neared, laughing and jabbering in Spanish. It sounds like I took French because I was jealous, but I just wanted to be different.

My french teacher, Ms. White, wore color as well as Washington politicians wear black and navy blue. She gave us extra credit on tests for using phrases like, "j'ai oublié tout mon français" - I forgot all my French - in lieu of answers we didn't know. Every semester, our class threw a petite fête that celebrated French food, music, and cinema. I haven't been as excited by and curious about French culture as I was during those parties since then.

Until I ate at Le Diplomate, the new French restaurant in Logan Circle here in DC.

Zander had reservations for three weeks. It's the "in" spot right now, and it deserves that accolade. House wine is served in carafes and half-carafes, in true European fashion. One long booth brings patrons together, and only a small separation of the tables keeps parties intimate and apart.

I raved all night long. I loved the large, open bar space that feels communal, and I loved the simple touches - a frosty cool glass of dry French rose, the bread table that I wanted to reach out and touch, the impeccable service, and mouth-watering menu. Zan started with the beet salad (poorly pictured above), while I opted for the hot asparagus soup (also poorly pictured above). He loved the beet salad, but I swear to you Scout's Honor style that the asparagus soup is one of the single best courses I have ever tasted. I think he had first course remorse, personally.

Zan chose the duck breast with duck confit and a farro salad for his main course. I've had great duck, but this takes the blue ribbon. The thinly sliced duck breast is succulent, a perfect medium rare, and flavored so nicely I wonder if they couldn't make a savory candy out of it. 

I chose a traditional dish: steak frites. The pat of garlic butter melts instantly on the seared steak and drizzles down the sides. Some may think it's too garlicky, but I say that's impossible. The fries, delicious as they were, may have been the meal's only bite short of perfection; they were over-salted. I would eat this meal every day if our hearts were built for it.

Stuffed to overflowing, we couldn't imagine ordering dessert. And then we did. It took us three weeks to get into this place, who knows when we might be able to do it again! The dark chocolate Napoleon is a beautiful, slightly complicated sight. It marries a dark chocolate ice cream with a cookie crunch and places it beside paper thin sheets of dark chocolate sandwiching milk and dark chocolate mousse all on top of a cookie. Zander licked the plate. He beat me to it.

Ms. White introduced me to France, and Le Diplomate took me there for an evening. Next step, a plane ticket straight to Paris.

where to eat in atlanta | brunch at rosebud

Let's get the bad news out of the way: By Atlanta law, restaurants cannot serve alcohol until noon. That's an improvement over my years serving tables in Newnan, Georgia back when Coweta County was dry on Sundays. But it's a disappointment coming from DC, where brunch isn't complete if it isn't preceded by the words "bottomless mimosas." The food at Rosebud in the hip Highlands neighborhood of Atlanta far makes up for its champagne deficit.

I'm fortunate to have two friends from high school middle school that I still call my closest. Melanie is one, of course, and the other is Randall. I wrote about our mud hike and delicious lunch at Thai Square after his last visit to DC. I have a picture of Randall and me hanging in my room from a 7th grade science nighttime "trip" outside of school to look at the stars, or an eclipse, or something in the sky. We both have braces, and we're happy, typical 13-year-olds. I smile every time I catch a glance of us back then.

The three of us are rarely in the same city at the same time, so we took advantage of us all being in Atlanta a few weekends ago to catch up over brunch. Randall, the only one of us who lives in the city, suggested Rosebud and got us reservations. Rosebud serves a twist on a traditional southern-style brunch, complete with cheese grits and bread pudding french toast, and fried chicken so good I'd have just about eaten it off the floor.

We decided on sharing the bread pudding french toast as a "starter." Spoiler alert: we never finished it. We tried our hardest, though, and we did make a substantial dent in it. The portion sizes are generous, to say the least. It was, hands down, some of the best french toast I've ever had. In fact, I'll just say it - it was the best. The texture of the bread pudding made the dish creamier than it is traditionally, and the rich, warm real maple syrup had me sticking my fork back in for "just one more bite" more times than I needed. I loved the addition of the fried egg on top, the yolk adding another level of flavor that I've craved ever since leaving the poor remains on that table.

I'd like to be able to tell you about the various other brunch dishes Rosebud serves, but we all ordered the same thing. Great minds think alike, and all that. But honestly, when there's an option for fried chicken on homemade biscuits with sausage gravy and a fried egg to top it off, who sees anything else?

We would have done well to order two of these monsters instead of three. Melanie and I barely made it through half of ours (Randall didn't have a problem finishing his). It was so good Melanie and I took our leftovers to our hotel for Ashley's wedding and snacked on them while we got ready. We couldn't stop. It's no surprise that an Atlanta restaurant has mastered fried chicken, but it doesn't mean I appreciate it any less. This chicken was decadent - juicy on the inside, crispy on the outside, and the key - flavorful. It's so easy for fried chicken to come out bland or tasting like the oil in which it was fried. Rosebud's take on it is moist without being greasy and seasoned to perfection.

The dish is served with grits or potatoes, and as true Georgians, we all went for the grits. Randall and I opted for cheese on ours. I've ordered grits at every brunch I've been to in DC that offers them, and I've been disappointed every single time. I grew up on Mom-made, homemade grits. I know the real deal. It should be bursting with flavor - peppery and savory, the cheese adding a punch of saltiness. The grits at Rosebud reminded me that they can be done right.

We finished eating at 11:50. Don't worry, we saved room for a round... or two... of mimosas for dessert.

if you go... 

rosebud

1397 n. highland ave ne atlanta

price range: $10-$15/entree

$7 mimosas or a $27 for a carafe of oj & a bottle of bubbly

menu highlights: fried chicken, "big nasty" (fried chicken sandwich)

brunch at boundary stone | where to eat in dc

You know those brunches when two hours pass in a matter of seconds, it seems, and the food is just right, and the mimosa glasses are never empty, and you're laughing too hard to remember to take pictures to document every sip and bite on your blog? Man, they don't happen often enough. But I relish them when they do. I relish every moment like that - so present and alive and buzzing with energy and friendship. I live for that.

I had one of those brunches a few weekends ago at Boundary Stone in Bloomingdale. I've been a fan of the whiskey bar since it opened a few years back. It arguably has the best wings in the District, the entrance is through an old barn door, the beer is local, they always have bubbly on hand, and it's in one of my favorite neighborhoods. For the too-short time that I lived in Bloomingdale, I frequented their happy hour ($4 wings), and Zander and I occasionally stopped in for a night cap. It's a neighborhood bar that welcomes you home, even if it's your first time there.

When my girlfriends Clare and Sara and I met up to try their new full-service brunch with a bottomless drink option, I didn't know what to expect. The food has always been great, but I couldn't put my mind around exactly how brunch would work. It works well.

I arrived at noon, and the restaurant was full but not overflowing. I waited, looking like a wallflower, for five minutes as a couple sitting at a booth inside paid. A friendly server noticed me eying the table and quickly cleared and cleaned it for me to sit. I ordered bottomless mimosas while I waited for my girlfriends to arrive. And they. are. strong. I'd expect nothing less from the Stone. If they're going to charge $12 for bottomless mimosas, they're not going to hand you a glass of orange juice with a splash of champagne - they care about quality too much. They also used fresh orange juice, and the difference it makes is huge.

Sara and Clare and I ordered seitan wings to share, and I discovered that vegetarian "meat" isn't as scary as it looks. Then again, I'd probably gnaw on a tree trunk if it were covered in their wing sauce. At some point - oh, 30, 45 minutes, maybe an hour later - we finally got around to looking at the brunch menu and ordering. I tried the chorizo sandwich ($13). It's served with a fried egg and green salsa on top and roasted breakfast potatoes on the side. If I could have fit another sandwich in my full stomach, I would have ordered a second. Clare had the vegetable quiche and gave it rave reviews. Sara ordered off the lunch menu and tried the half smoke - also delicious.

We drank and talked for so long that when Zander came to pick me up (sweet boyfriend!), he ended up joining us for a little bit.

Sometimes I forget that having brunch isn't just about the newest restaurant or the hottest scene or the best chef in town. It's really easy to get caught up in wanting to try everything and photograph it all along the way. Having brunch with Clare and Sara was my favorite brunch I've had in ages. It was about sharing an experience more than experiencing the food. Though, it doesn't hurt that the food was damn good, too. And those mimosas. I'm still rehydrating after those.

if you go...

boundary stone

116 rhode island ave nw

@boundarystonedc

fiola | where to eat in dc

 the bar at Fiola

Every once in a while, you need to shut down your inner voice saying, "It costs how much?" and experience decadence. It's an incredibly difficult thing for me to do. I'm hopelessly reasonable when it comes to finances. (If only I could transfer some of that reasonableness to, say, any other area of my life!) When it comes to money, Zander and I complement each other. He appreciates good food and good wine and the beauty of occasional indulgences. He appreciates the restorative - emotionally, physically, and mentally - powers of a good meal. He knows that romance lies beyond a glass (or two) of Prosecco at an intimate bar. All the while, I keep him grounded - sometimes you have to find that romance in things far more practical and light on the wallet. 

But this blog post isn't about practical. It's about that romance and indulgence at an intimate bar. It's about Fiola Da Fabio Trabocchi, one of D.C.'s most sough after, romantic, delicious dining experiences. 

For our first visit we opted to sit at the bar. We started with a few glasses of wine; we just barely missed the happy hour that ends at 6:00. We started with the bar menu, comprised of elevated takes on typical bar food. We tried most of the menu, starting with the Mozzarella - Neapolitan buffalo mozzarella fritters. The salty Parmesan, the crispy breading, the flavorful mozzarella, the light marina sauce spooned in the bottom of the bowl all came together to form one of the best appetizers I've ever tasted. I almost ordered another serving.

Next, we tried La Piadina - grilled flatbread with proscuitto and stracchino cheese. I really enjoy Italian cheeses, is what I've discovered. The above-average sized portion was filling - I had to wait a while to order the next bite. To say this wasn't our favorite dish of the evening should hold no credence - it's great, it just didn't pack as much flavor as the others.

Our final appetizer was the veal meatballs. These succulent, moist meatballs are covered with tomato and a sunny side up egg. I kissed my fingers and threw them in the air with appreciation. Zander would come back to Fiola just for these. I would, too.

If you're wondering just how much food two people can eat in the course of one evening looking at these pictures, so am I. Apparently, it's a lot. Zander ordered the oysters before his entree. From the sound of him throwing them back, they're a winner, too.

For his entree, Zan tried the Tortellini of Cotechino Sausage with oyster mushrooms, veal sweetbreads, and green asparagus. I tried a bite of the broth and a tortellini, and even I - who am squeamish about sweetbreads, truly enjoyed it. The tortellini is rich and filling, the sweetbreads not overpowering, and the asparagus adds a great crunch to round off the dish. He loved it.

Now let's talk about this burger. It might odd that I went to a fine-dining Italian restaurant and ordered a burger, but would it be as strange if I told you it's quite possibly the best burger I've ever had? It really was. I have daydreamed about that burger. The $22 behemoth is a tenderloin patty topped with smoked provolone cheese, pancetta (swoon), and con fit tomato, and is served with rosemary fries. After all the food we'd had over the course of a few hours, I couldn't eat more than half of it, but Zan was more than happy to help me polish it off. The rosemary adds a nice flavor to the fries, though they were just a tad too salty.

Zan and I left with a tab that nearly made me faint, but a meal like this - that transports you to Italy for an evening, and lavishes you with flavor and decadence that make you close your eyes to savor each bite, it's worth it every once in a while.

if you go... 

fiola

601 pennsylvania ave nw

bar menu

happy hour: 4-6

dinner menu 

snooze | where to eat in denver

Ever since I said I don't like eating breakfast out, I've been made to regret it. I posited that I can make most standard diner breakfasts at home for less money and less hassle, and I wouldn't have to put on pants. Of course, it seemed every person in my life set out to prove me wrong, and I happily admit that they succeeded. I was wrong, and the rest of the general population was right: breakfast is best. 

When I visited my girlfriend Callie in Denver last month (I wrote about our snowboarding trip), it worked out that I would stay one night in her city before heading up into the mountains the next afternoon. Her response, "We can go to Snooze!" 

One of the six locations of Snooze, a local "A.M. eatery," is within walking distance from Callie's beautiful apartment. We went on a Friday morning, which accounted for some of her excitement - the place has a several hours long wait on the weekend. Even on a week day morning, we waited 15 minutes for a table. We started with loose leaf Earl Gray Tea in mugs so cute I wanted to steal them (I didn't, scouts honor!). 

I asked Callie what's good. She thought for a second, and pointed out the pancakes that come in a multitude of flavors, the entire, lengthy eggs benedict section, the omelet, the breakfast burrito, and finally looked up and said, "Everything," 

She went with her longstanding favorite, the breakfast pot pie. A very flaky puff pastry is topped with homemade rosemary sausage gravy and an egg (she chose sunny side up), with a side of hashbrowns. I don't care for chicken pot pie, but I'd eat Snooze's rich, savory breakfast version any day of the week.

True to form, I couldn't make a decision. I teetered between the the barbacoa benny and pancakes. Callie let me in on a Snooze secret: they'll let you do half and half of different dishes and meals. That is pretty freaking cool. Just like she said, when I told the server I was torn between the two, he offered the half-and-half option. 

The barbacoa benny was a unique, delicious take on traditional eggs benedict. I loved the tender, flavorful Mexican-style meat with a gentle pico de gallo salsa, with the flavor of poached egg and smothered in creamy Hollandaise. Our server suggested the pineapple upside down pancake. It's decadent and spoiled me silly. Callie and I together couldn't quite finish it, but we got close. 

I didn't have much time to do anything else in Denver, but breakfast at Snooze made me feel like a part of the city. 

If you go... 

Snooze locations

the menu

prices are in the $8-12 range per entree

giordano's | where to eat in chicago

You know how you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry? Well, you probably also shouldn't blog about pizza that stole your heart and hid it in a restaurant in Chicago when you're hungry, either. But, alas, life is short... and hopefully plane tickets to Chicago are cheapcheapcheap by the time I finish writing this.

I don't want to say that I'm a pizza snob, or a foodie - pizza version. But those things may be accurate descriptors. Pizza is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite food on the planet. I used to say that sort of embarrassed and admit immediately after uttering it that I know it's a kindergartener's favorite food, too. I used to think it meant I had a weak, undeveloped palate. But that's just not true. There isn't much that could be more wrong with that sentiment. Pizza, nay, good pizza, has a depth of flavor - basil and garlic and oregano and lightly seasoned tomato sauce that pop, that dance on your tastebuds. The crust can be light and fluffy, or crisped, wood-oven seared, thick, or, in the case of my work trip to Chicago a few months ago, deep dish.

I'm a pizza traditionalist, although, with the world's most adapted food (we're talking corn as a topping in Japan!), is there such a thing? I mean it in the sense that I prefer Neapolitan-style pizza - thin, crispy, with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella and basil in each bite. That said, I'm also a meat-lover so you'll almost always fine pepperoni and sausage on any slice of mine. (I guess I'm not so much of a traditionalist then, am I? But leave off the corn, please.)

I had my mind expanded for the better when I tried Giordano's Famous Chicago Pizza. Sure, I've had deep dish pizza - the gooey, massive servings at District of Pi in DC were a good introduction. But the real Chicago deal made my mouth water just looking at it. As I picked up a piece, mozzarella oozed off, fresh garlic hit my nose, and - the true test of deep dish success - I couldn't eat more than a single piece. I tried for a second. I put my mind to it, and I only got a bite in before admitting defeat.

I read an article recently about how the love of pizza brought a couple together. It was beautifully written. It got me reminiscing about my travels and just how often I've turned to pizza for a taste of comfort and home - and to experience how a local culture interprets the dish. I mentioned the Japanese style with corn - there's also mayonnaise as a topping. In China, going to a Pizza Hut is a reservations-needed event. In South Africa, I washed my cheese-heavy slices down with a Savannah Dry. And in Chicago, I fell in love with deep dish pizza. If you're ever in the area, order a pie from Gioradano's for me, okay?

Hi, my name is Cyndi, and I'm a pizza addict. What's your favorite slice and style?