Shrimp. Bacon. Pizza. Heaven.

I openly wept at the sight of it.

About six months ago, as many of you may know, the culinary bastion of goodness known as Urban Gourmet burned in a tragic fire which left all of us who loved the venerable greasy spoon, and had elevated it to an almost cult-like status, shocked and saddened. Over the weekend, I received word that the owners had pooled their resources into a new location, which they dubbed City Slicker Cafe. As they were closed Sunday and Monday, I had to wait a few more days until last night to renew my love for Urban. But, oh boy, the wait was more than worth it.

I put in my order at around 6pm after my torturous Postmodernism class wrapped up late and I got books from Tisch for my paper due on Thursday. The last six Urbanless months had prepared me for the final wait, but I still kept bouncing my leg while staring at the clock in anticipation. When the doorbell rang, I (quite literally) bolted out of my chair to the door and received my pizza, now dubbed the Surf 'n' Turf by City Slicker. Running back to the couch, I didn't even wait to get a plate or a glass of milk or anything. I put the box down on the ottoman and opened it. And stared.

Honestly, pizza, or really food of any kind, should not make me do this. But there I sat, in awe of the beauty which sat smoldering in front of me. It was just as I remembered: thick, flaky crust, lush toppings, bubbling cheese. I admired for a minute what I had so long desired. And then I took my first, breathless bite.

The taste was just as I remembered. Buttery and soft, the shrimp and bacon flavors dancing across my palate, all the while thinking, "if there is a god, and he ordered a pizza, it would be this."

I ate six slices and I didn't care that that made me a fatass. It was worth it. Because when a man thinks he's lost his favorite pizza forever, there's nothing in the world like getting it back.