Earlier in my life, pizza was the perfect food. As a child, an adolescent, and a young adult, I almost always welcomed a slice or four.
Think about it. Alone you can order your favorite toppings. With others, everyone can add their preferred ingredient to grace that most delicious circle’s bubbling cheese landscape. For a big group, it’s just as easy to order multiple pies as one. And, when served, that luscious slice fits right in your hand.
Earlier in my life, pizza was the perfect food. As a child, an adolescent, and a young adult, I almost always welcomed a slice or four.
Think about it. Alone you can order your favorite toppings. With others, everyone can add their preferred ingredient to grace that most delicious circle’s bubbling cheese landscape. For a big group, it’s just as easy to order multiple pies as one. And, when served, that luscious slice fits right in your hand.
I don't order pizza as often as I once did. My waistline certainly does not need it, and my constitution cannot take it. But the once-a-month pie, fresh and steaming from the oven, can be a lovely indulgence. However, I'll have to find another emporium to replace the local, independent pizza place that used to be my regular supplier.
Driving past the shop, I saw the hand-written poster board sign in the window: “Closed, gone out of business.” I thought about the people who waited on me there, most likely owner/partners, their eyes betraying fatigue from their day jobs, their brows knotted in stress.
They were always pleasant, even though I never ordered breadsticks or two-liter bottles of pop with my low-priced advertised special. I am glad I tipped at least a dollar each time. But I can't help but feel that by not ordering often enough and not buying their more profitable menu items, I contributed to the demise of their establishment.
That's the thing about independent stores and restaurants. If they are not covering the bills, there is no larger corporate entity to take over and turn the place around. That shop or eatery just disappears one day, like my pizza place did. I envision those hard-working people besieged by unpaid invoices and, at last, defeated, their dreams and their life savings going out the window.
But, really, could I have saved this business? No, not even if I ordered their pizza more often. Even at my most ravenous and my most uncaring about having to buy bigger pants sizes, I could never have eaten enough.
Perhaps I could have spoken with the owners about their marketing strategy. But what’s the chance they’d have listened to me unless they were so desperate that the handwriting was already on the wall?
Guess I’ll adopt another nearby restaurant for some occasional take-out food. Best I choose a different cuisine, one that I can consume on a more frequent basis. Maybe I'll try that little Chinese place just down the road from my former pizzeria.
If all goes well, I can program their number into my smart phone and practice ordering a number seven with hot and sour soup. I’ll be a better supporter of my town’s independent cafés, and this will be my motto for local fooderies: I’ve got to eat ‘em, or I’ll defeat ‘em.
Pat Grimes, a former South Bay resident, writes from Ypsilanti, Mich. He can be reached at pgwriter@inbox.com
