August 31st report from the field: 

Here I am today on my birthday ... in the heart of New Jersey.

You might want to know, I used to live in Arizona. There, there's a Taco stand on just about every corner. Here, in "Joyzee" that would be ... a Pizza Parlor on every corner.

On my birthday I chose to treat myself to Pizza. Make that a righteous, oily cheesy New Jersey style Pepperoni Pizza. 

At one of our go-to's Ritacco's in Nutley, New Jersey.

I don't think it gets any more Italian in New Jersey than that great Pizzeria.

But, this is not a restaurant review. The food's great. Alright? Check out the "Monster" 20" pie. 

So, here it is:

Seems a friend of mine has recently come out. [Got you! Not what you thought I was talking about, was it?] Come out ... on the question of how to eat a slice of Pizza. 

Seems the gentleman insists that any proper human being eats one's slice with the kind of respect and dignity only two hands can confer. 

His wife, I believe, is of the fold-your-slice persuasion. I do hope they can work their differences out. Time is the great healer. And, as I myself have learned, one learns to adjust to the lady's way of thinking.

Me? I have to say, even with the prospect of my friend's disapproval lurking in the forefront of my consciousness, I am of the fold-it type. Hey, it's a Pizza! I can get it about two hands if it's a Blini Beluga Canapé. But, to me, as wonderful as it is, Pizza is a casual eating experience. My friend will argue that it being casual is no excuse for lowering your standards.

De Gustibus non est disputandem. That should settle it. That phrase is, after all, from the Italians. Classical as it may be. Here in New Jersey the Italians have the Pizza eating rules down.

Witness the bro's reactions to my eating with two hands. Lucky to have gotten out of there in one piece. And, I don't mean piece of Pizza. Which, by the way, we took three pieces home for later.

  

(That is NOT my tongue! So ... no comments!)