I previously wrote an opinion piece some weeks ago about a revelation I had in Frank Dining Hall. I realized milk needed to make a comeback, after being sneered at by my peers for indulging in a cup of dairy. It seems Frank is my oasis for foodstuff revelations, and I’ve realized a new one — it might be even more controversial. I love Frank’s pizza.
Don’t judge me just yet. I’m sure many of you may think Frank’s pizza is just okay — good, even — but it’s much more than that for me. It’s a lifestyle. I think it’s better than the pizza offered at New York Pizzeria (Slices) or Oliveri’s and any other nearby pizzeria that claims to offer “pizza.”
One of the most contentious disagreements among Colgate University students is the rivalry between Slices and Oliveri’s. To me, neither compares to the magic of Frank’s pizza. I fear it’s not even close. And I do apologize, as it’s right to support small businesses.
Let’s break Frank’s pizza down by each component, shall we? Firstly, the crust. It is incredible. It’s soft and doughy, but not too doughy. It’s not paper thin like New York pizza and not as thick as a Domino’s pie. However, it still fills me up and leaves me satisfied. Not only does the thickness serve a function, but the flavor of the crust is unmatched. We really need to appreciate the garlic butter crust — shout out to Frank for going the extra mile on this one. Not even movie theater “butter” dispensers could match the fantastic superficially rich flavor of Frank crust. Truly delectable.
Next, the pizza sauce. Sure, it’s not high-end, but it serves its purpose. And that is perhaps what’s best about Frank’s pizza. It doesn’t claim to be anything special. It’s not claiming to be an authentic New York slice or an Italian margarita. It’s cafeteria food, and the sauce is what you’d get in a school cafeteria.
But, you see, some of the appeal of Frank’s pizza is that it is kind of bad. It’s not bad in the classic sense, but it’s the type of food people look down upon. But just like those who pretend to hate McDonald’s, it’s time we stop lying. We need to admit nasty food is kind of good.
There’s also an element of nostalgia in cafeteria food, especially the tomato sauce served with those cheese-filled breadsticks from elementary school.
Now that we’re on the topic of cheese, I shall continue. Frank puts the necessary amount of cheese on each slice. It doesn’t pretend to be classy or somewhat healthy by skimping out on cheese. It gives the amount of cheese the heart yearns for. I’ve never measured it, but if I did, the amount of cheese may be up to a quarter-inch thick. But it’s not just the amount of cheese; it’s the right type of cheese. It’s not only mozzarella, but it seems there may be trace amounts of other cheeses. The type of cheese is a mystery to me, but it’s still good, and that’s all that matters.
I’m from Long Island, adjacent to New York City, so you might expect me to have a pallet specifically curated towards New York pizza. I’ll admit there’s a time and place for the paper-thin crust of a New York slice, but it’s beyond me why someone would want that as a meal. It’s really just a snack.
One criticism many may have towards Frank’s pizza are the experimental creations they’ve been serving recently. They’re definitely different. But you know what? It takes a lot of courage to be that different, and I applaud the Frank workers for trying to make something exciting. Frank’s pizza is okay with being disliked. A bit of sprinkles or broccoli on pizza won’t kill anybody, but a life of mediocrity may kill the soul.
So, if you take any message away from this piece, I want it to be this: Dare to be different. Head to Frank right now and take a gander at the pepperoni slices. If cheese suits you better, have a cheese slice. Say please and thank you, and open your mind to the idea that Frank’s pizza is the best pizza. And don’t hesitate to thank me later.
