Let’s not kid ourselves on Conn. pizza

I love pizza as much as the next person. Who wouldn’t appreciate hot, melty mozzarella nestled into the crevices of perfectly oven-fired bread and tangy, garlicky tomato sauce? Nature’s arguably most scrumptious ingredients coming together to form a sum that’s better than its parts, tantalizing taste bud titillation. Even my toddler, who eats roughly two foods at any given time, consistently loves pizza.

And yet ...

The proposal presently before the Connecticut Legislature that would make pizza the official food of Connecticut is a gargantuan misstep.

Claiming pizza as the Nutmeg State’s own is a swift slap in the face to our next-door neighbors in New York who, undoubtedly, have the best pizza in the nation, possibly the world. Sorry Italy, New York perfected the grand idea that you introduced. Connecticut is at least behind the Big Apple and the boot, with no stake in the game.

To try to lay claim to an honor like this is like saying we have the Atlantic Ocean when we really just have the Long Island Sound. The Sound is beautiful and brings many hours of joy to our family, but it isn’t and never will be the unadulterated ocean.

So too, Connecticut pizza is edible, some of it even pretty decent, but it doesn’t hold a torch to the drippy, crunchy, oozy taste bud explosion that is New York pizza. It’s not anyone’s fault that our pizza isn’t the best; some say it’s the density in the water that makes the pizza across the border so impeccable; others purport the New York tough attitude has something to do with it. Whatever the secret reason or ingredient, the Connecticut slice simply doesn’t cut it.

Yes, I acknowledge that Connecticut has a sizable Italian population, many of whom lived in New York before settling here. Their pizza still doesn’t taste the same as a greasy slice from Original Ray’s in Manhattan or Rosa’s in Maspeth, Queens, or DiFara in Midwood, Brooklyn. No disrespect. It just doesn’t.

When I first moved from New York to Connecticut, I was eager to find all the good grub I enjoyed in the city in the suburbs. I chased after the best Chinese, Thai, Peruvian, bagels, pizza, you name it. I was always open and eager to identify the hidden gem restaurant or sandwich. I was nearly always disappointed.

There were times when I made the trip back to the city just to fulfill a hankering — to Cyclo in Queens for Vietnamese, Loretta’s in the Bronx for pizza, Essa Bagel in Manhattan.

Then one day I had an epiphany. I went to a local fish market in Greenwich and enjoyed the best lobster roll of my life. It clicked. Here I was searching not in the wrong places, but for the wrong things. You wouldn’t look for saltwater fish in a lake, and you shouldn’t look for the best pizza in Connecticut.

Connecticut has many delicacies, including some of the best, freshest seafood I have ever had the pleasure of consuming. We have stunning landscapes and friendly denizens. You can count more constellations in the night’s sky than New York or any city could ever hope to see. And we have Michelin-worthy cuisine. Just not pizza.

So when we think about what food should represent the great Nutmeg State, let’s appreciate all that Connecticut has to offer, but let’s not fool ourselves into thinking we’re something we’re not.