Ambrosial Dualism

 

“The fact that an opinion has been widely held is no evidence whatever that it is not utterly absurd.”

- Bertrand Russell

Nestled in northwestern part of the Parnon mountains in the Peloponnese region of Greece, is the village of Vourvoura. In the early 1950s, this modestly populated village was reeling in the aftermath of depression, a particularly ruthless Nazi German occupation, and a civil war between royalists and communists. The hardscrabble and burdensome Vourvoura life of this era however did not deter young Sam from acquiring a quality education. At the tender age of 20, young Sam, like many others in his village, decided to embark on a new journey in search of a better life and began a long voyage westward. His desire was to join his older brother in Canada. Sailing across the Mediterranean Sea, he first reached the shores of Naples. Uncannily, life seemed to come full circle as young Sam decided to quell his hunger with a local delicacy that was an adaptation of the plakous, a flatbread dish that his own Greek ancestors had invented back in the 6th century BC. The Neapolitans, Sam learned, called this pizza and considered this strictly to be suitable only for the plebs and had carefully preserved its status as street food for over three centuries. Young Sam took a big saucy bite of the yeasty comestible and was categorically unimpressed.

A decade later, armed with the experience of mining in Northern Ontario, a lifetime ambition of becoming a dentist, a propensity for tough grind, the wisdom of turning into a 30 something, an underwhelming Italian culinary experience, and an older brother with an entrepreneurial inclination, Sam decided to move to the Southwestern Ontarian town of Chatham that prophetically shared its name with the Tamil word for cooked rice (சாதம்) and run a restaurant with his brother. Ironically, the restaurant made pizzas, the same Naepolitan appropriation of the Greek plakous.  The restaurant decided to hire a Chinese cook to help diversify their menu and the association helped Sam soon develop an Asian-like palette for foods combining sweet, sour, and savory tastes. Seeking to broaden the pizza menu one day, Sam grabbed a can of pineapples, and threw them on a pizza base with sauce, cheese, and some bits of ham, and history was written.

An abomination!

Repugnant!

Revolting!

Nasty!

A Polynesian perversion!

Hell hath no fury like a pizza partisan scorned. Critics spared no effort to denigrate Sam’s new sweet and savory breakthrough. Teenagers and housewives however reportedly loved it. Soon, the combination was a rage. “Hawaiian Pizza”, Sam decided to call it. Why Hawaiian? Was it Sam’s idea of the food Hawaiians in Hawaii ate? After all, Sam had never even been to Hawaii. It so turns out that the brand of canned pineapples Sam reached for on that fortunate day was called “Hawaiian”.

A little after the turn of the century, as the Greek inventor of fruit on bread Mr. Sam Panopolous was basking in four decades of his still controversial glory, a young Indian student set foot on US soil. Armed with romantic views of American rock music and the greatest pizza ever, he walked into a dingy little Hungry Howie's pizzeria in downtown Akron, just a couple blocks away from the rendezvous of a week old drug related shooting. A colorful pizza flyer adorned one of the dirty window panes that seemed to have more liaisons with colorful pizza flyers than with Windex. The graphic on the flyer was that of a succulent pizza topped with pineapples and jalapeño slices. The young Indian student was immediately enamored and his taste buds were transformed forever.