Imagine choosing pizza as the gateway drug to elitism. Burrata, sundried tomato, arugula are all choices on a Quattro formaggi, just as valid as oregano or chilli flakes.
Even if there were hordes committing sacrilege against the Sistine Chapel of Pizza I wouldn’t suddenly become Italian enough to insist strangers are eating their pizza wrong.
Bit my boy’s arm really hard on the Paris Métro. Looked up to see a little girl watching me with the biggest grin.
Glad I got to teach her our ways and do my part in preserving our culture