ham and cheese pizza bought in Tenerife Spain

Pizza. Arguably the one food that unites the world. We all love it, and we all love to claim it as originating from our own country. Well maybe not “originating”, but each country has their own specialties.

I’m an American, from a few hours north of Chicago, and while I know that “pizza” isn’t from Chicago per se, it’s a popular fact* that Italian immigrants to Chicago are responsible for developing the best modern incarnations of pizza. Deep-dish, Chicago-style pizzas are to die for, but not in an Al Capone sort of way. And while I may be American, I’ve spent my entire adult life living in Europe, and I can use the metric system. That’s a big plus for someone living thousands of miles from home. I also enjoy contradictions when I don’t dislike them.

*Fact = In today’s political culture, a fact is anything that you want to believe is true.

Pizzas are different in different cultures. Duh.

The worst pizza in Europe that I have found was in Estonia, about 20 years ago. It had boiled egg, pickles, and corn on it. The best pizza in Europe I have found was also in Estonia, in my kitchen. What restaurants serve, versus the ingredients available for your own kitchen, are not mutually exclusive. What I mean is you can have great restaurants in a place where Parmesan is only available in shops as a dried, canned powder (the US), and you can have mediocre, over-priced restaurants in a place where there is a large selection of delicious Parmesan, like Estonia. (Fun fact*: Estonia even makes some wonderful Parmesans, but they call it “hard cheese”.)

My partner is arguably Estonia’s best food photographer and food stylist. If you’ve been to that country and seen delectable images of culinary art in a popular cooking magazine, or roadside billboards with cheesy burgers, she probably took those photos.

My name is Stewart Johnson, and my other half is Katrin Press. We’ve just arrived in Tenerife, in the Canary Islands, Spain. We’re learning Spanish, we’re learning to cook Spanish food (and how to enjoy it), and we’re learning how to do it on a budget. Let’s start at €10 a day for two adults and two children. The more successful our project becomes, the larger the budget we’ll have for investing in our project. That means that you, our beloved reader(s), can learn more from us by sharing our stories, posts, and photographs.

A country’s food is only as good as people’s expectations

It is my opinion that a good indicator of a country’s cuisine, and what locals expect from it, is store-bought pizza. This may be frozen, or just wrapped in plastic. Oh, and the price is important as well! It’s also natural to make comparisons. In Estonia, it’s pretty much impossible to find a store-bought pizza that I would choose to eat, if I had a choice. If I had the choice between eating a slice of locally-made grocery store pizza from Estonia, or locally-made grocery store pizza from Italy, then I would choose not to complete this sentence for obvious reasons. In Estonia, they’re all made on crusts that look and taste like cardboard. The sauce is a step up from ketchup, and the toppings look like they were dropped there by a machine directly from a bag of frozen vegetables. The ham is likewise quite clearly cut by a machine, and there’s simply no personality to the pizza. And there are only about six different kinds to choose from, and two brands. I say brand and not company because the bottom of the pizza looks like it was branded, like an elderly dairy cow that no longer “dairies”. It’s that dry and tasteless.

Store-bought pizzas can be great

Our first day in Tenerife, when we walked into the shop, we were greeted with a myriad of pizza selections. Ham, chicken, beef, seafood, bacon, four-cheese pizza, pizza with cheese that looked like cheese and not remnants from a paper shredder, sauce, vegetables that were clearly hand-chopped—the selection was seemingly endless! And compared to Estonia, the prices were seemingly endless in terms of how low they could go. We chose three, for the aforementioned ten euros. Here’s some foreshadowing as well: the four of us couldn’t finish the pizzas. We were too full. For ten euros.

The first pizza was the larger of the three, a simple ham and cheese. It was the size of something you’d like to have delivered to your door, piping hot. The first thing I noticed was that it had an expiration date that wasn’t years in the future. The first thing I noticed before that was how fresh it looked, with all the toppings. I’m not saying that two toppings is a lot, but there was a lot of these two toppings. And it tasted like a ham and cheese pizza, as well. An actual pizza. It wasn’t a pizza to write home about from Tenerife, but you’d never tell it was a store-bought pizza for two reasons. One, it was good, but not amazing, and two, we already know you’re not going to write home and tell anyone about it. One slice left.

The second pizza was a rather normal-sized chicken pizza with two types of cheese, and bell peppers. While it might have looked the best when out of the oven, it was the weakest of the three. The flavor was mild, in other words. More than enough toppings though, and being from north of Chicagoland, maybe chicken on pizza just isn’t my thing. But the Estonians also agreed. Two slices left.

Carbonara pizza? Yup.

The third and final pizza was the same size as the chicken pizza, and it was carbonara. No tomato sauce, but with onions, mushrooms, and bacon. Once this bacon pizza was baked, it was almost solid white with cheese. The crust was very good, and the flavor…this was the pizza to write home about. “Hi everyone, sorry for another email, but I just had a great, pre-packaged but fresh pizza that I bought at a store for only a couple euros. Enjoy your Hot Pocket!” Zero slices left.

Our first full meal for four in Tenerife for only ten euros has been a great success. Tomorrow we’ll try some actual cooking. I’m thinking…lo mein, a traditional food on Tenerife that probably no one ever makes because I lied about it being traditional. Two forks up!