What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
The writer in me was tempted to say the taste of success, keep it poetic, add a few metaphors, and sound like someone who drinks green tea and manifests positivity. But truthfully? Success never came with melted cheese or grease dripping down my arm. And I’m a simple girl with a simple appetite.
It wasn’t some dainty plate served with foam in a Michelin restaurant where the waiters judge your trainers. It wasn’t a homemade lasagne with a family recipe passed down through generations either.
The most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten was a slice of New York pizza.
Not just any slice. That slice. The one I stumbled across after walking what felt like mile upon mile, from the Upper West Side to Times Square, in July, jet lagged, dehydrated, and very close to tears. In hindsight, it wasn’t really an overly long walk either but anyway…… We’d been wandering around, trying to see the sights, but all I could think about was launching my shoes in a bin, soaking my aching feet and why on earth I’d worn a wired bra.
Then, through the haze of sweat and hunger, there it was. A tiny pizza place, nothing fancy, no seats, just a counter and a smell that nearly lifted me off the pavement.
I ordered a slice bigger than my self-worth issues, folded it like a seasoned New Yorker (or at least attempted to, but mine flopped like my motivation on a Monday morning) and took a bite.
It was gooey, chewy, crisp, greasy, and absolutely glorious.
Not just because it was objectively delicious, but because of everything that led up to that moment. The hunger. The heat. The unravelling. The moment of finally stopping and feeling something good without overthinking it. I didn’t take a photo. I didn’t share it on Instagram. I just stood at the side of the pavement in Manhattan, with tomato sauce on my chin and a mouthful of cheese, genuinely happy for the first time that day.
That’s what made it the best.
It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t expensive. But it was perfect. And sometimes, being delicious is less about flavour, and more about timing, desperation, and a thin slice of magic served on a paper plate.
And so it turns out, healing can sometimes start with a bit of pizza. And that’s a truth I can get behind, slice by glorious slice 🍕
Lottie x
Thirty Something Plus VAT 