The stop is full of taxis with the green light. There is little work. Two drivers are sitting inside the same car and chatting, with the radio in the background. When I arrive I ask: "Whose turn is it?" and, as always, there's one who shouts: "Fiiirst?". And the "first" waves his hand at me. I tell him I'm going to Boston Pizza on Mandri street, before reaching Ronda Mitre. I've met the family there to take a pizza home, which we'll eat while watching a movie. We start talking about pizzas. The man is single and now, with restaurants closed, he manages as best he can. I tell him there are many types of pizza I like, from the most guarrindongas to the most finicky. And it's true. I can't say I prefer thin crust or thick crust. I like them all.
When Pizza Hut opened, which has now disappeared, I became an addict. I used to go to the place they had in Sagrada Familia and always ordered the meat lovers (the name made me laugh a lot). Pizza Hut invented the Rolling Pizza, which was a great idea. What do we always leave behind, from pizzas? The crusts. Well, let's fill the crusts with cheese. Another pizzeria I loved, and which no longer exists (it closed in 2010) was the Chicago Pizza Pie Factory. It was on Provenza street, opposite La Pedrera. The number of afternoons I had spent there... The pizzas at Chicago ---a place decorated in American style--- were served in a pan and had a very thick crust. The place had a beautiful wooden cocktail bar. When I found out they were closing, I asked the master bartender (Mr. Serret) what they would do with that bar. "It has woodworm," he told me. With Mr. Serret, who was a great barman, I discovered a concept that is common today, and which wasn't then: the happy hour. During happy hour I had Manhattans, Negronis, Pisco Sours, Margaritas... Fabián Martín's pizzeria, on Via Laietana ("the Ferran Adrià of pizzas," they call him), also no longer exists.
I tell the taxi driver that, sometimes, I feel like ordering the Vulcano pizza from Tele Pizza. It's one of those pizzas that makes you wake up at three in the morning dying of thirst. To describe it, how poor words turn out to be... I let him know that it's a thin crust base but that in the middle it has a kind of little bowl. The little bowl (made of dough) is full of melted cheese. And on top of the pizza there are nachos, to dip them in the cheese from the little bowl. The concept is so crazy that it's unbeatable. The taxi driver stops the car. We've arrived. He charges me. And then he says: "Well, you know what? I'm going to get one too. Talking to you has made me hungry."