I like food. Period. It’s delicious, nutritious, comforting and can be exciting. I like Serbian food too. From the first time I was served it a love affair was born. For the most part it is peasant food. Very hearty, very rich and loaded with protein and starch. A real meat and potatoes kind of food. While traveling through Serbia I was treated to this food at every house we visited and stayed at, mostly the same menu. I think there are really only 7 different dishes. Even while visiting Serbian family in Amsterdam we got the same. Mind you, it was delicious and I liked it very much, but I need a little variety.
Towards the tail end of the trip we met back up with Uncle V and Cousin T. Cousin T is a tiny little thing but she can drink like a champ and she is very proud to be Serbian. Everything there is the best. EVERYTHING! So, after we went out drinking into the wee hours of the morning, we hit what I would call an afterhours club/pizza stand. I’d never seen anything like it but they were serving food and drinks so everyone was happy. We go in, get a table and some drinks and some people order food. Cousin T asked me if I wanted to try Serbian pizza. I was excited at the prospect of getting a little taste of home after a long trip, so I asked to take a bite of hers. Now, seeing as I’m from the Chicagoland area, I am used to a certain kind of pizza; cheesy, greasy, loaded with meat, loaded with thick garlicy sauce, cut into squares and sometimes DEEEEEEP. So, I was skeptical to say the least. Even in my drunken haze I still had enough sense about me to doubt this pizza. But I was a sport and went on ahead. I was assured by Cousin T that it was great, way better than in Chicago. I get the slice, take a bite and force a grin while I choke it down. The crust/cheese combo was kind of like eating the greasy pizza box with some left over cheese stuck to it. There was no sauce on the slice, at all. Cousin T grabbed a bottle of ketchup and started dumping it all over her slice while I sat there horrified. Evidently they save money on sauce by forcing the public to drench their pizza in ketchup. I had to pass on the rest of the slice, which was a first for me. Pizza is kinda like sex, even when its bad it’s still pretty good. But not in this case. Cousin T told me I was crazy and didn’t know what I was talking about. Maybe so. Maybe I don’t know good pizza when I eat it. But I know this: KETCHUP DOES NOT BELONG ON PIZZA!!