Tino's Cold Cheese Pizza

When we lived in Cooperstown there was a little pizzaria, Tino's, on Chestnut Street. Tino had a fairly typical menu for such a restaurant and would do slices for lunch. One of his menu items was Cold Cheese Pizza and all his menus bore the phrase, "Home of the Cold Cheese." Best I could determine, he was talking about cold cheese on a pizza.

Cold cheese on a pizza? Why? I didn't get it. It sounded gross.

My friends, co-workers, husband and I, as well as most visitors we entertained, enjoyed Tino's slices for lunch and whole pizzas for dinner and other occasions. We came to be such regulars that when Tino would see our shadow cross the door, he would himself call out our order, and it would be ready by the time we got to the counter. We ate a lot of Tino's.

Then came Jason. Jason Schiellack, then Manager of Membership (now promoted to Director of Membership) at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, hails from Wisconsin. Everyone liked to rib him about being a "cheesehead" but he really is himself one cheese lovin' dude. It didn't take Jason long at all to sample that cold cheese pizza. Jason is the one who successfully introduced me to it. I must say I was hesitant to try this strange arrangement of cold cheese on a pizza, but from the "The First One is Free, Kid," Department, I was hooked from the first time I tried it.

The next time I went in, I asked Tino, "What's the story on that cold cheese pizza?"

Tino explained that when they had a pizza shop in Oneonta (a college town) they'd get these big rushes of diners, say, at lunch time or when classes or an entertainment event would let out. They'd be overrun with a shop full of hungry college age kids ordering slices! Slices! Slices! and they'd be back there slingin' pizzas as fast as they could. They'd pull those bubbling hot pizzas out of the oven and slice 'em up, but they were way too hot to eat - loosen the skin right off the roof of your mouth (Ouch!) - until someone had the ingenious idea of throwing a handful of cold shredded mozzarella cheese on top of those extraordinarily hot slices to keep from injuring thier avid, loyal, ravenous and impatient customers. Soon people began asking for slices that way. A cult of pizza was born.

When my sister, who has never been to Cooperstown or Oneonta, learned that I love cold cheese pizza, her response was same as mine had been in the beginning - "Cold cheese on a pizza? Why? I don't get it. Sounds gross!"

Unfortunately, any explanation I can offer in black words on white ground can not possibly come anywhere near doing it justice, but try to think of the most excellent thin crust cheese pizza you can imagine, piping hot - the way the crust bends down when you try to pick it up, so hot the topping almost slides off, melting - with a handful of shredded Mozzarella cheese thrown on top as it goes on the plate. Be assured, the juxtaposition of cold cheese on hot pizza is a delightful surprise. If you ever have the chance, try one. It'll change your life. Trust me.

We still get the weekly Cooperstown newspaper, The Freeman's Journal. Comes in the mail every week, right as rain. It's fun to keep up with the goings on in the village where we spent the last seven years of our lives. We always liked to say the village is so small, everyone takes turns being on the front page of The Freeman's Journal. It's real home towny. I saw in the FJ recently that someone bought Tino's.

That is happy and sad news to me. Happy if it was what Tino wanted, happy for him and his if he came out well on the sale. Sad to think Tino's won't be there any more. The new guys might even still call it Tino's if they paid him enough for such a priviledge, but it sure won't really be Tino's if Tino isn't there.

I am familiar with the other restaurant owned and operated by the people who bought Tino's. I certainly wish them the best, but I have to say, they're no Tino by a long shot. Not even close. So I guess we'll see. On the other hand I don't suppose I really need to trouble my pretty little head about it because I don't live there anymore!

Tino, wherever you're going and whatever you do, I bid you a fond farewell and wish you Health, Happiness and Prosperity. I thank you for having opened up a shop in Cooperstown, for your friendship, and for the exquisite experience of Cold Cheese Pizza. Cheers, buddy.

Garden Update and Field Pea Lore

I am sorry to say that I have slacked way off blog entries since I got Facebook, so to try to make up for it a little bit, I'm posting this entry with an updated photo of my garden, which is fairly exploding out of the ground.

We have already enjoyed a jalapeno pepper bigger than my whole thumb, a Roma tomato bigger than any I've ever seen in a grocery store (and way tastier), a few little golf-ball sized onions (because I just couldn't wait), several yellow squash, which are surprisingly sweet, and two hefty servings of green beans, yum! But wait, there's more - today I saw a bright yellow spot in one of the rows and wondered how a dandelion grew there so quickly, but it was my first Marigold blossom of the season. Good Morning Merry Sunshine!

In this photo, on the left is the tomato row; in the middle, there, is a row of Georgia Sweet onions, and that row on the right, toward the front are the yellow squash, and behind them you can see some neat trellises I made for cucumbers, cantaloupe (also known as muskmelon), and watermelon. On the crossways rows in the foreground, the little sprouts you see marching across the image from right to left are pink-eye purple-hulls, a variety of what are commonly called field peas. The Pink-eye purple-hulls are close cousins to black-eyed peas, which you may have heard of.

Black eyed peas are significantly involved in a particular southern tradition of eating black eyed peas on January first for good luck and prosperity in the coming year. Grandma Susie introduced this tradition to me many years ago. You can have 'em any way you wish - with or without greens, cornbread, any variety of pork - the black-eyed peas themselves are the thing.

This tradition evolved, as Grandma Susie explained to me, from the point that black eyed peas and all their little cousins are humble food, inexpensive and easy to prepare and, as you can see, one can even grow them in the home garden. As a bonus to all that, they're also quite tasty. It follows that if one were to start the new year with such humble fare, things could only get better. Steve and I have become almost superstitious in our observance of this tradition - January first must not pass without our having some black-eyed peas, even if we have to get them out of a can from the grocery store!

I could grow black eyed peas, and probably will, but I so love the pink-eye purple-hulls. I was introduced to pink-eye purple-hulls by a woman named Mildred Wallace, mother of my dear friend Sue Mitchell. My children and I went to visit Sue at Mildred's house in Arkansas one summer back in the eighties. Mildred was a pip! She nearly always had a "chaw of terbacky" in her cheek. Mildred grew a thick stand of pink-eye purple-hulls every summer. She ate many of them fresh and home-canned the rest, had enough to keep herself well stocked and send home with her loved ones. They weren't quite ready to harvest when we were there that summer, so we had some of the last of the home-canned from the season before - delicious. I also learned from Mildred that summer how to make biscuits. Yeah, biscuits! Tender, flaky biscuits, the kind you love with breakfast. I'll tell you about Mildred's biscuits in another post because this one is about "eye beans."

Black eyed peas are a pristine creamy white with a distinct black eye. They cook up from dried relatively quickly and are tasty. You can embellish the flavor with various seasonings, maybe a joint of ham if you're so inclined, or just enjoy them pretty much the way they come. They are definitely black and white. Once I've actually grown some, I can tell you more about their habit, their pods, and so forth.

Pink-eye purple-hulls are exactly that. One of the fun things about shelling them is that the pods will stain your fingers purple. One of the not-so-fun things about shelling them is the same thing - they will stain your fingers, and it is persistent. Doesn't wash out easily. The beans or peas, whichever one might wish to call them, are a little more pale mauvish in color, with a deeper, sort of a dusty plum colored eye. As I mentioned before, they are tasty prepared from fresh, they home-can well, or cook up from dried relatively quickly, like their black-eyed cousins. My affection for this legume interferes with any objectivity I might have, so I can't really say between black eyes and pink eyes which one has the better flavor. They're just tasty.

Time marches on and both Sue and her mother Mildred have gone on to the Big Acreage in the Sky. I have no doubt whatsoever that Mildred is in charge of a thick stand of the Heavenly equivalent of Pink-eye Purple-hulls, and that Sue is pointing out to newly arrived angels, "Well, there's a real good example of a pair of wings, right there on your shoulders." I learned a lot from those two women, individually and collectively, miss them both, and think of them often. My old friend Pappy Hines would say "They're not dead as long as we're alive to remember them," and to that I offer Cheers to Sue, Mildred and Pappy.

Y'all go grow yourselves some pink-eye purple-hulls!