Normally, after long gaps between columns, I would begin with a mildly humorous, sarcastic comment — most likely featuring a sports reference — to kick off another semester of munching. Instead, as there is serious business to discuss (that business being pizza), I will begin with some direct answers. I have no further time to dispense for pleasantries. Yes, I did study abroad. No, I did not write this column while doing so. Yes, I did eat while doing so. No, I am not starting as quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons next week (there’s your sports reference).
In any case, one of the great joys of being a master muncher is choosing your own food adventure. The world looks to you to direct them to nosh nirvana — a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly — whether it’s the bakeries of the Jersey Shore or the North End’s Italian joints. Never have I had to direct so many people to the right spot, though, as I did last Friday.
That evening, 20 other members of the 2024 NECBA Champion Tufts Club Baseball team and I packed into cars and made our way toward Burlington, Vt., in advance of our Saturday morning doubleheader against the University of Vermont. As the least-asleep backseat driver during our nearly four-hour trek, and with some added credibility from my lengthy culinary journalism career, I was assigned the task of selecting a pizza place for the team’s dinner.
Immediately I got to work, scanning Google Maps, Beli and Facebook (yes, Facebook) for the best pizza in Burlington. As a New Jersey pizza connoisseur, I wouldn’t normally order pizza in the middle of rural New England. However, I left my biases aside for the good of the team and analyzed coal-fired and wood-fired, round pies and square pies. Eventually, my Holmesian investigation yielded Folino’s Pizza, a cozy location just off College Street in downtown Burlington.
Before I get into the pizza, a few disclaimers. First, I did not select the pies. While I can’t complain about an order consisting of three cheese, three pepperoni, one pesto bomb, one fungi and one cheese and herb, I feel obligated to admit when I do not make a dietary decision. Second, because we have nearly 25 team members, the pizza was eaten on a dock overlooking Lake Champlain. While picturesque, waiting an extra 10 minutes to try the pizza was not ideal.
Despite the overabundance of pies and my roaring hunger, I, as a patient senior, was only able to nab three slices: two cheese and one cheese and herb. The crust on both was overly chewy and, due to the delay in eating, neither was warm. Both slices earned points for their greasiness and their lack of flop — both big pluses. Moreover, on the cheese and herb slice, the combination of pecorino, olive oil and the three-cheese blend worked very well. I could not really taste the sauce on the cheese slice, though the mozzarella was plentiful.
As always, my gut reaction:
Folino’s Cheese and Cheese and Herb Slices: Meh.
While that reaction may make it appear that I was disappointed, the opposite is true. After four hours in the car, three slightly-above-average slices of pizza eaten at Lake Champlain with my teammates hit the spot. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sometimes it’s alright if the food doesn’t taste the best. The people, the place and a mild case of hunger-induced delirium can also make the moment.
So, here’s to another semester of munching. Here’s to another semester of meh pizza. And here’s to figuring out what exactly is in a three-cheese blend.
