I get nervous about meeting people I admire. Not that I meet people I admire that often but what would happen for example if I met Shakira? What if she was a jerk? Or really, really stupid. It would be so disappointing. I would never be able to enjoy the music again. Why do I have Shakira on the brain? Cause I'm going to go see her in concert tonight, whee! That'll be a story for another day though.
Today's story is about a restaurant in Seattle: Delancey pizzeria to be specific. There are many, many restaurants that I would like to eat at but I've only listed a few on the Mighty List. The ones that made the cut are there for the quality of their food and my emotional attachment to them. For example: Topolobampo in Chicago. Arnold and I love to watch Rick Bayless' show and we cheered him on like demented groupies when he won Top Chef Masters. We have a personal (if imaginary) relationship with Rick and that's why his restaurant made the cut.
Delancey was on the list because I absolutely adore Molly Wizenberg's book "A Homemade Life". After reading that book, anything that Molly cooks is on my list. Like Arnold and Rick, Molly and I are in a committed if one-sided friendship.
So I was practically obligated to drag 6 of my friends out to a residential area of drizzly Seattle two weeks ago to eat pizza at Delancey. I won't lie. I was very nervous about how this would turn out. What if it was horrible, terrible, ghastly pizza or worse, rude service? Everyone would be mad about how I convinced them to go there and Molly and me's imaginary friendship would be irreparably damaged.
I needn't have worried.
The pizza was perfect; thin and crispy with super-fresh toppings. The salads we had beforehand were fresh and zippy with crunchy lettuce layered under the perfect amount of dressing. Outside it was cold and rainy but inside it was warm and cozy and candlelit. I couldn't have been any happier with a belly full of pizza and a table filled with people I love.
Then dessert came.
And that's when things sort of went to another level. Dessert was some kind of cream, honey and fig concoction. It was insanely good. I don't even really like figs but there I was fighting over figs like a drunken sailor. It was just like when Molly convinced me that I should braise cabbage. Unthinkable. But then I tried it, and I saw the light, and it was good.
Eat at Delancey: Check!