KATHMANDU, Nepal — Back near my Kathmandu hotel, I wandered the streets of the touristy Thamel neighborhood, looking for a bite to eat.
Gusto Italiano Restro & Bar offered a comfortable decor, cold Everest Beer and quick, hot pizzas. Sure, I could’ve opted for more authentic fare, but I might be wired to draw restorative properties from a triangular piece of dough, tomato sauce and cheese. The desire for pizza reminded me of a quote I’d found about my hometown food:
Pizza is the fruit of choice for the lifelong New Yorker, a greasy elixir that nourishes the soul. A proper slice is an avenue through which salvation may be found — sort of a cheesy eucharist.
Overstated? Perhaps. But as I dug into the fresh, round pizza pie, life felt perfect.