Opinion: Deep dish pizza deserves respect, and apparently I’ll fight anyone to prove it.

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If you know me in real life, you know that I can be incredibly stubborn. For those of you whose lives aren’t yet graced by my presence, the fact that I write an opinion column should serve as proof. I have strong opinions, and I stand behind them. As a result, I tend to be friends with equally opinionated people, and we don’t always agree about everything. A prime example of this is the ongoing great deep dish pizza debate.

Although I never technically lived in Chicago and I was only an Illinois resident for four years of my life, deep dish pizza validity is a hill I am perfectly willing to die on. Oregonians, assuming they’re familiar with it, tend to laugh at it as yet another example of heart attack-inducing Midwestern food. I pity the poor fools.

For those unfamiliar, the most accurate way I can describe deep dish pizza is regular pizza but taller and better. It’s baked in a pan and is, as the name suggests, much deeper than other pizza styles. Typically the cheese goes on first, then any toppings, and the sauce is on top. It’s not a meal for the faint-hearted (or small-stomached), but it’s absolutely worth any potential discomfort. And the best part? Due to its unique shape, you end up with more pizza per bite. Who could argue against that?

Unfortunately, my friend and fellow UO student Eddie Balbo is exactly the person who could argue against that. As an Italian “pizza expert,” he holds the opinion that deep dish is “soup.” Equally stubborn, this debate resurfaces all the time when we hang out, to the point where I’m sure my roommates are sick of it. I don’t deny that he has some reasonable views on pizza, but this is regrettably not one of them. While a plethora of famous chefs agree with him and it looks like I should be on the losing side of this argument due to a lack of ethos, I’m here to let you in on a secret: They’re all wrong!

The arguments about what constitutes as pizza are almost as groan-worthy as the old “is a hotdog a sandwich?” debate (technically it is), but by my standards, deep dish fits the bill: round, open faced crust topped with cheese, sauce and possibly meat and/or vegetables. The basic definition applies as well to deep dish as it does to more traditional pizza styles. Even though you have to eat it with a fork and a knife, deep dish pizza holds its shape far too well to qualify as a soup. Balbo also argued that deep dish is like lasagna masquerading as pizza, but that argument is even more absurd than the soup. If you look carefully, you’ll notice the absence of pasta in any respectable deep dish pizza, invalidating this bizarre claim. 

However, beyond the strange arguments about deep dish pizza’s classification, Balbo seems dead set against liking it. I can’t even count the number of times he’s called it “bad” mid-debate. We’re both too stubborn to ever back down from our respective sides, but readers, rest assured that I’m right. One fatal flaw in his argument is that he’s only ever tried deep dish pizza in Oregon. That would be like me saying all Italian pizza is bad despite never visiting Italy. A bit absurd, right?

I am by no means suggesting that every pizza should be deep dish. Pizza, as all meaningful aspects of life, should have some variety. But that goes both ways. I like a flat pizza as much as any reasonable person, but sometimes you want a ridiculously indulgent meal that’ll leave you stuck in a food coma for hours.

For now, Balbo and I will just have to agree to disagree.  While deep dish remains a debate, we’ve found common ground in our mutual disrespect for both Track Town Pizza and UO’s own Hearth & Soul. We also agree that pineapple on pizza is an abomination. Maybe someday he’ll get the opportunity to try real deep dish in Chicago, and I’ll get the chance to gloat. And hey, wherever you stand on deep dish pizza, at least it’s not as bad as a sushi bagel.