fourth grade foodies

Marybeth: 6:00 needs to get her wayyy sooner...so bored!
Maddie: Agreeeeeed. I'm dying. And also had a purposely ho-hum lunch so that tonight would be even better. Haha
Marybeth: Yes I did that too!! Tried to make it small-ish too so I'd be extra ready.
Maddie: Haha same. Small-ish and low calorie-ish. Eek!! We're at least coming down the home stretch!

Marybeth Meador and I have been friends since about 4th grade. I can remember going over to her house at a young age and being one of the happiest kids alive: Cheeto puffs, Milano cookies, all varieties of ice cream, sodas galore, Doritos, hamburger sliders, infinite candy, and chicken in a biscut crackers with cheese were only a few of the delicacies that I was likely to consume while having a sleepover at the Meadors. Not only did we dine deliciously, but Marybeth and I often indulged our creative sides by baking and creating various recipes that we had stumbled upon in American Girl Magazine. Classic. It is in these early years of experimenting with food, flavors, and fun, that I think Marybeth and I first tapped into our now very strong and very prevalent "foodie genes."

Twelve years later, and Marybeth and I still manage to fully and whole-heartedly connect on our particular loves for food. Since we are both spending the summer working in New York City, and since our offices are only about one mile away from one another, we thought it pertinent to get together for happy hour or dinner after work one day--knowing us, we obviously opted for both.

DiFabio Romano Pizza

Throughout the week leading up to this grand event, Marybeth and I sent upwards of 15 Facebook messages back and forth, listing names of restaurants and bars that we'd either passed by, heard about, or simply stumbled upon while searching the Internet; we weren't taking this outing lightly. We two foodies were going to pick two great places, and we were gonna leave both establishments very happy. At our bar of choice, the Blind Tiger Ale House, we couldn't find a seat, and furthermore couldn't read the extensive chalkboard menu of draught beers posted on the wall in the dimly lit establishment, so we instead wandered around Greenwich Village for a bit until we found a spot that suited us. Mercadito Cantina was serving guacamole and margaritas for $5 a pop and we were sold. Marybeth and I sipped on our salty, limey, and very tequila-y margs, demolished the crispy chips and chunky guacamole, and then set out in search of the main event: 900 Degrees.

900 Degrees is a new pizza spot that opened in the West Village in the spring and boasts both a wood fired and a brick oven, making your pizza selection that much more difficult. One could choose from the thin and fresh Neopoletana, the rectangular 2.5 foot long and three-flavors-in-one Romana, the thicker Tomato Pies, the Siciliana style pizza, to the Pizza Americana; just a few options. Through process of elimination Marybeth and I landed on the Romana pizza, and had to choose from 4 variations. We opted for the DiFabio: 1) Prossicuto, Arugula, and Parmigiano, 2) White cream sauce, garlic, Italian meatballs, 3) Gorgonzola, candied pecans, nutella, fresh apples, and honey; all topped with plenty of mozzarella, all set atop a perfectly crispy crust. This pizza includes appetizer, main entree, and dessert on one rectangular pie!

"dessert" portion of pizza

The menu says that this pizza serves 2-5. The menu says that this pizza is two and a half to three feet long. The menu implies that two 21 year-old girls who are not trying to gain 30 pounds in one sitting shouldn't attempt to split this pizza. But Marybeth and I didn't necessarily take much notice of the menu. We dove into this 3 course meal of a pizza in one fell swoop. Of course we went in the proper order at first, starting from the left, and making our way to the right, but by the end, we were mixing and matching and eating each type of pizza willy nilly. I was partial to the gooey, garlicy, savory, and slightly spicy entree segment, whereas Marybeth seemed to pledge allegiance to the sweet, crunchy, and chocolaty dessert portion. Halfway through our meal, our waiter even commented, "Wow, you girls are doing work on that thing!" Embarrassment. In the end, we ate nearly two thirds of the pizza, couldn't fit another bite into our packed-to-the-brim tummies, and still left the restaurant carrying five pieces each--pieces with which we'll reminisce our devilishly delicious dinner the following day at lunch.

Because we didn't even attempt to glimpse the other side of the menu, which offers pastas, salads, and italian desserts, I'm certain I'll have to take a trip back to 900 Degrees soon. Upon handing us our to-go boxes and asking us what the consensus was I said to our waiter, "Well, my boyfriend loves pizza more than he loves me, so I'll have to bring him here soon-- although I'm kind of scared to do so."