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A fond memory

At the expense of sounding like an old man here and be nostalgic and recall some fond memories about my childhood and shed some light on a little history of boat basin.

I remember going to boat basin back in 92 with my parents and brothers and my cousin and their parents, a grand total of 3 families, some members of which were never old enough to clearly remember those events. We had just discovered this quaint little pizzeria called “little America”, a ground plus mezzanine pizza parlor that first introduced us and Boat Basin to the idea of pizza. We all had recently watched the early Ninja turtles movie on VHS at my cousin’s house so we were thrilled to have our first slice. It was probably not as great as our childlike minds would still have us believe but it made us want it, like a fashionable novelty for our family to have and indulge in on our family weekends. As we grew, our choices grew as more pizzerias started opening such as “Pizza Inn” and the ever famous “Kings & Queens Pizza”, which opened right next to Pizza inn before it made it big and relocated. Pizza Inn served food outdoor on the pavement of boat basin which has become the standard today but it suited the three families that would order 5 large pizza’s 4 pitchers of coke, whilst us younger cousins scarfed it down as if we were addicted.

This memory is priceless to me, but since the opening and relocation of Pizza hut and the eventual slump in quality and taste, I have yet to taste a decent pizza that has the kind of “Umph” that nostalgia would have me believe I had once tasted. The large number of pizza parlors is also taking the fun out of the exclusivity of pizza, which is one negative side effect of boat basins existence. Some that was easily replicable will be replicated and mass produced until it only has a frugal demand for it. Now it’s a common place food item and no one really does anything different apart from the size of the slice, the crust filling and the package deals.

My faith in the exclusive taste of pizzas has been lost, but that memory is still a very happy one. If you could imagine what I remember, then don’t think 3 families, instead think a big family of siblings, aunts and uncles all hunched up together on one table, talking, eating, drinking Pepsi, the children all talk amongst ourselves and the adults listen to our nagging demands of more pizza and the “My tummy hurts” complaints, from 8 till 9:30 almost every weekend at the corner of a well-lit sidewalk of pavement in front of a quaint little pizzeria, back in the time when food was sacred and people didn’t honk in cars for the waiter, and for all the kid knew, the chef worked magic in that little kitchen.

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