…its my guilty pleasure. Yes, along with frozen cookie dough from Fresh Direct, Twizzlers, eggplant parm and Diet Coke, I am pretty obsessed with Digiorno’s. I am not arguing that its the best pizza – I know it doesn’t even come close to comparing with all the pies found in NYC. But I love it unconditionally, for unapologetically being a cheesy, pepperoni-y hunk of carbs. Give me Digiorno’s and a gallon of sweet tea, and I’m looking at a pretty romantic Friday night.
The biggest problem since I’ve been here is going through Digiorno’s withdrawal. Any local worth their salt would turn up their nose in a New York minute, but as I’ve clearly stated before — Not a New Yorker. Unfortunately, the grocery stores here cater exclusively to NYCers (who can blame them, eh?) and I can’t get frozen pizza at all. Anywhere. The other night on a quest for blank CDs, I stumbled across my beloved pies in the frozen section. Why I was looking for CDs there is beyond me. I purchased that instead, cradled it all the way home, and immediately threw my baby in the oven. So imagine my delight when I trekked all the way up to Costco last night (which is its own story. Spoiler alert: 60 blocks away in Harlem + $200 worth of food + amorous cab driver = a nervous wreck) and found A THREE PACK OF DIGIORNO’S! Ahhh, its the simple things in life.