I have discovered a local Italian café that has some great pizza which meets my exacting standards.

Pizza is a cuisine of subtleties. There is little obvious difference between each slice. The choice between Chicago and New York style is simple: Do you want your grease on it or in it? Beyond that, it’s all just about variants of toppings. No matter what, your colon will hate you for eating like crap. You can find a healthier slice here and there. You’ve seen it sitting next to the pepperoni grease trap you always order – it’s the one with green things on it. Or maybe you haven’t. Maybe they only serve pepperoni, sausage and “Hawaiian” where you go.

But you have to come to terms with one thing about pizza: It’s all about the crust. The toppings are just that – toppings. The crust is the essential point of the entrée, so it must be of a certain quality. Would you eat a gross, undercooked greasy bagel just because it was covered in half a mountain of cheese and meat? That’s rhetorical. Of course you would. And so would I, because protein matters and I’m on a budget. But the point is that when you’re serious about pizza, there are some standards.

The crust must be tasty on its own. No sauce, no cheese, no meat, no butter, no icing. It should be crispy and soft at the same time, with an aroma that evokes grains harvested from a Mediterranean hilltop. It should make you thirsty for red wine and brandy. Or a pilsner. (If an unfiltered microbrew actually manages to quench your thirst during a meal, it’s a sign that your meal is a little dense. Add on a salad.)

The pizza is allowed toppings, yes. But a solid sheet of melted mozzarella is not required. In fact, it’s not ideal. Real mozzarella is actually hard to shred because it comes in balls floating in its own liquid. The mozzarella should look like spots of cheese, not hockey pucks.

So here’s the basic ideal pizza: A perfect crust, sparse cheese toppings, and one or two meat, veggie, or fruit toppings in sparse portions. It should look like decorated flat bread, not cheese soup in a bread bowl. If the ratio of toppings to crust sounds alarming, it’s because the crust in your mind’s eye is too thick. Or you’re still expecting it to taste like the cardboard it came in.

Go get a slice of what I’m talking about, available at Pizza Lombardi on 8th and Clay. If you don’t already know of the place, you’re welcome, because it was difficult to discover. A web search yields no information other than a smattering of references to the famous Lombardi’s Pizza in NYC. Frankly, the lack of web presence is frustrating, because I know more people would eat there if they could find it on their phone’s browser.

This is pizza as it should be. It’s not a full meal in itself, but serves as a good snack on the go. The menu does offer pastas, salads, and the like. This is more of an Italian Restaurant that does good pizza than a stand-alone pizza joint. There’s no in-your-face culture being pushed about the merits of molesting your food with hot sauce, or dismissal of the food in the restaurant’s name. Most importantly, there’s no pools of grease.

I get a slice of each the special each time I go, usually Canadian bacon and pineapple, and another with spinach, artichokes and feta. It’s enough to get you through chemistry lab and it doesn’t cover your fingers with pepperoni grease. Pair that with a San Pelligrino Limonata and I’m set. At $3.50 a slice, it’s just about what I’m willing to pay, but it’s worth it for the spinach, and to help a small business that isn’t part of a chain.

So, I hope I have been able to bring some perspective into your lunch life. Pizza can be delicious and healthy, if you do it right. Pizza Lombardi does it right, and they do it right around the corner.-g