Tag Archives: pizza goddess

Pizza Goddess, Part 2

14 Jul

It’s not always easy working with aspiring goddesses. Or shall I call them goddettes? These are the 16 year olds for whom this job is their very first. Pizza virgins. I admit, they bring a certain youthful charm to the snack bar. They are, on the whole, cheerful and agreeable, and work well once they figure out what they need to do. But they are still on that border between adulthood and childhood, and it is not infrequent when they slip backwards. I’ll give you an example. Let’s call our goddette Pepper. Pepper is the most hard working goddette at the snack bar. She’s fun and flirty (first at the window when Apollo appears). She’ll do most any job, except one. She won’t refill the mustard. Pepper can not stand to be near it. The last time we worked together she asked, ever so nicely, if I wouldn’t mind refilling the mustard. Not only does mustard creep her out, she explained, but the ketchup had already touched her. To Pepper, a possible assault by a second sauce was intolerable. How does one respond to this peculiar condiment phobia? Is there even a word for it? I’d be happy to hear from anyone who knows. And yet, there are some for whom mustard brings great fulfillment. Johnny Wolf had to stop a young boy who was sitting at one of our tables and happily squirting mustard straight from the bright yellow bottle into his wide open mouth. The boy blushed and handed the bottle back. But not wanting to disappoint a customer, however young, Mr Wolf filled up a little cup with mustard for the boy’s enjoyment. My heart goes out to anyone who had to be in a closed, confined area with the boy as the condiment worked itself through his system.

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Diary of a Pizza Goddess

10 Jul

This summer I will be playing the part of Pizza Goddess at an undisclosed location. You are probably wondering what a Pizza Goddess does. Well, for one thing, there are many pizza goddesses across this great land; lovely ladies standing, smiling behind the counter of your local pizza joint. They take your long-winded, crazy-assed orders without complaint and get it right most of the time. But my job is a little different. I’m serving pizza at the snack bar of my local pool. Throngs of soggy children with their damp dollar bills flock to my snack bar window. The majority are pre-teen boys desperate to spend every last cent on pizza, candy and soda. They race up to the snack bar, their damp hair spiked out after a vigorous towel dry and their pasty legs poking out of their knee-length swim trunks. There are also some girls, shy little things shivering in their huge multi-colored beach towels, dithering for long minutes over what to order. And, less often, there are teenage girls, draped languidly on the benches, washing their french fries down while drinking Diet Coke. These teenage girls seem to be waiting so very patiently for something that never seems to show up. Probably teenage boys. The very few teenage boys I have seen are not to these girls liking; they are skinny, geeky boys who wear their glasses in the pool and talk about Dr Who. The only male worth their notice is the lifeguard, let’s call him Apollo. His tall, tanned, muscular presence is godlike to the swimming minions. And it is usually onto one of his minions that Apollo will bestow the privilege of ordering his cheeseburger combo.

You must be wondering if, as pizza goddess, do I get tired of pizza. And the answer is, “Are you crazy?” But yet, spending hours at a time with so many tasty ingredients at my disposal, it’s hard not to experiment. French fries come at the top of my experimentation list. They’re so versatile. The snack bar’s rather charismatic chef, let’s call him Johnny Wolf (there’ll be more about the name in the future) created for me this charming little sandwich…French fries, mayo and melted cheese topped with pickles. Basic, kinda quirky, hugely satisfying and the foundation for greater culinary exploration.

to be continued…