If the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lived in the sewers of Chicago, would they be eating Deep Dish every day, of every month, as they did on every episode living in the sewers of New York, fighting Shredder and his Foot Clan and eating thin, New York pizza, usually with pepperoni? 

Not. A. Chance. 

I am a big fan of the Chicago Deep Dish. It’s a delicious pie. But if anyone attempts to eat Deep Dish with some sort of regularity that is more often than once a year, it’s a sure path to moo moos and mobility scooters. There’s no way my teenage heroes would have been able to fight crime by eating deep dish, daily. 

My first time with Deep Dish, I did it properly. It was my first time in Chicago. I was at a conference for work and there was a one-hour break between sessions; just enough time for me to try an icon for the first time. I heard of Pizzeria Uno, the birthplace of Chicago Deep Dish and the original location was only 10 min away from the conference. I took it as fate. 

But I misread the tea leaves. 

The Chicago Deep Dish is not a pizza you can enjoy under an hour. No one mentions this. Until it’s too late. When I sat down at my table, I told the server my story of coming to Chicago to try Deep Dish for the first time — a story he’s probably heard at least a few times. 

His response: it’ll take 45 minutes to cook.

What was I going to say? After spending 10 minutes to walk there, 5 min to be seated at my table, 45 minutes of cook time takes me to the full hour that I had. As a lover of all things pizza, how could I say no. I never really took my job seriously. 

When it arrived, all I could think about was pizza soup in a bread bowl. 

Anyone in the know would allow the pie to rest for five to ten minutes to avoid a collision with the above-ground pool of sauce-cheese-sausage lava. 

But with negative minutes to spare, I had no choice but to fight lava with bare hands. 

I believe in love at first sight. But that first encounter when all hands and mouths get involved, it can often be awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve had many encounters with Deep Dish many times after that first time. And with experience, I’ve learned to handle eating a hot pie with my hands with elegance (no, the deep dish is not a knife and fork meal), and I’ve also deeply fallen in love with everything Deep Dish.

But my first time was anything but love. Because 30 minutes after fighting with that first slice, burning my lips, my tongue and the top of my mouth, I had another bout, but this time with a toilet that I painted to smell like what I imagine how the sewers of New York would smell during the hot days of July. 

Which got me thinking — how can anyone eat a pizza in the sewers that smells like the runs? Not all love stories starts with love at first sight.