Pizza is a Taco Like A Taco is A Pizza

(Image courtesy of co-pilot)

Let’s start with a confession: I am not here to settle the “taco vs. pizza” debate.I am here to make it worse.

Because the truth is, the second you stop thinking of tacos as tacos and pizzas as pizzas, you start realizing… they’re basically the same thing. I mean, get real. After any food enters your mouth the reality is: you’re telling yourself a story about the pureed casserole’s taste, aroma, mouthfeel, texture, economic value, nourishment, etc.. Flat base? Check. Stuff on top? Check. Eaten with hands or questionable dignity? Check.

The only real difference is the marketing, your fear of being wrong, and the annoying smugness everyone has when defending “traditional,” “authentic”, labels and categories. You don’t have to lie to yourself, or me, you believe what you want to see, and it’s not going to set you free? Probably not.

You can lose a Mexican or an Italian friend--or worse: a white friend. Just playing, everyone is white these days. (Whatever that means.It's not like you read too far into things and then turn into the ... I'm going to stop here.)

Anyway. Make a pizza-flavored pita into a burrito wrap hotdog quesadilla taco, that can transform into an open-faced sandwich.

You’re going to have a superpower for inventing weird, crazy, sounds–ridicoulous–until-you try–and you don’t even have to be high.

Think about it: If your Italian grandma saw a taco for the first time, she’d probably say, “Oh! A folded pizza! Very clever.” If your Mexican abuela saw a slice of pizza, she might say, “Ah! An open-faced taco! Bold move.” And then they’d both agree that you’re putting too much cheese on it and you should call your mother more often. Masa means dough, salsa means sauce to Spanish speaking folk.

Food is a spectrum, and the taco–pizza continuum is where culinary imagination lives. My book (Pre-order this Thx-Giving/ Buy this X-mas!) is your permission slip to throw away the old recipe index cards and start thinking in flavor geometry — where tortillas, naan, lavash, pita, etcetera, injera, and yes, even that stale English muffin in your fridge, are all just waiting to become edible canvases.

We’re going to explore taste across the senses, turn flour into flavor libraries, alchemize your scraps into spice blends, and then blow the lid off what counts as a “sandwich,” “flatbread,” or “thing you can eat while standing over the sink.”

By the end, you won’t just know the difference between sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and umami (i.e. savory) — you’ll know how to make all five show up to the party wearing hats. You’ll see food like a jazz musician hears notes: riffs, harmonies, and the occasional experimental solo no one asked for but somehow works. It’s all about discovering your inner weirdness, and then maybe making money off it at the farmers’ market.

That said, this isn’t about recipes you follow. This is about recipes you invent.

Because when you calibrate your culinary imagination, you stop asking, “Is this right?” and start asking, “How much hotter can I make this before Grandma starts coughing?”

Let’s get cooking.

Or, you know… drizzling, folding, fermenting, and embracing your weird sense of flavor.

(Tell me why you think about this post?, on Instagram. Let me know what you're working on!? I'm always happy to connect on Instagram @A Taco is A Pizza or Substack @NewMexicanStylePizza