I don't eat pizza often, and not for a lack of loving it. Who doesn't love pizza? Pizza is delicious. But as a typical salad-eating, Diet Coke-drinking, carbs-cause-me-guilt kind of person, pizza is reserved for the rare special occasion when I allow myself to indulge in its magnificence. Therefore, pizza is like the good china or the fancy cocktail dress of the food world, which you bring out only for that extra-special event or celebration. I eat pizza for Christmas dinner, my birthday, or after running a marathon. So it better be good.
That's a lot of pressure on a poor pizza. Because I reserve my pizza consumption to those extreme splurge days, the pizza bar is set awfully high. I expect that the pizza I treat myself to will be mind-blowingly amazing, the best thing I've ever eaten, the tall glass of water after a long pizza-less dry spell. And, naturally, most pizzas fall short, and I end up disappointed and let down. Pizza blues.
Life is far too short to eat mediocre pizza.
Enter Talia di Napoli. This is real Italian pizza. Sure, a lot of pizza joints might make that same claim—maybe their pizza comes from an Italian recipe or an Italian tradition or even an Italian family. But Talia di Napoli pizza comes from Italy—hand-made all the way over there in Europe, packed on dry ice, and shipped directly (free shipping!) to your front door. They use all the best Italian ingredients and bake their sourdough-crusted pizzas in a "hand-built wood-fired Neapolitan oven." (Neapolitan, as in originating in Naples, and not the vanilla/chocolate/strawberry blend.) And then, the really cool, new-agey part starts. The pizza is "put to sleep in a cryogenic flash chamber." It's flash-frozen. It's frozen, and yet it's still fresh. You could say that it's just sleeping. And that's why Talia de Napoli nicknamed their pizza "The Sleeping Pizza." (In fact, they explain that Talia is actually the Italian name for Sleeping Beauty.) Once the pizza arrives at your doorstep, you unpack it and resurrect it—bring it back to life using Talia's very simple reheating instructions. It only takes about 10 minutes to "wake it up," as they say, and to have it hot and ready to eat. After all, ordering a pizza is supposed to be a quick and easy solution for a good meal—even one coming from half-way around the world.
The whole cryogenic "frozen alive and then revived" concept is a bit reminiscent of a 1980s sci-fi thriller, but it effectively freezes all that cheesy goodness and pizza flavor in time, so that it tastes just as good when you get it as it would have if you'd eaten it straight from its original Italian oven. It does have a long way to go—"from Naples to your tables!" reads the tagline—and the cryogenics act as a freshness time machine. If it weren't for the dry ice and coldness in the box, you'd hardly even know it'd ever been frozen.
Talia pizzas come in several varieties, including Margherita; plain mozzarella; Tartufina, which comes with truffles and porcini mushrooms; and Provolina, which takes on a nice smoky flavor due to the addition of provola cheese. Four-cheese, no-cheese, and gluten-free varieties are coming soon. Pizzas come either as six-packs of one flavor or eight-pack pizza assortments. Perfect for your Super Bowl snacks.
So how does it taste? Ah-MAY-zing! The cheese-to-crust ratio is right where it should be. The crust is thick and spongy, like a piece of fresh-baked Italian bread. And the sauce—which frankly, is often a deal-breaker in many pizzas, due to its tendency to be bland and blah—is flavorful and zesty and deliziosa.
Yes, the few times I indulge in pizza, I want it to be to-die-for good. And this pizza does not disappoint. This is one of the few pizzas that has lived up to my ridiculous pizza standards and held its own against my pizza pickiness. No matter how big the build-up, how monumental the occasion, this pizza is worth the splurge. It's worthy of Christmas dinner. Served on fine china. Eaten while wearing a cocktail dress. Heck, they could serve this pizza on death row, and no one would feel shorted.