A Whole Pie, or Just a Piece

The oven sat at the back of the shop, made of brick and burning coal. A badger baker moved a long paddle in and out of the fire, cooking a pizza in just a few minutes.

The shop opened in nineteen oh five. Many people nearby had just come from Italy and did not have much money. So the baker cut the pizza into pieces and sold one at a time, wrapped in paper.

The recipe has not changed much. The dough rests overnight, the sauce goes on cold, and the cheese melts in soft patches, not one smooth layer.

Animals waited in a line with coins ready. Polly watched the slices disappear, folded once down the middle.