I have spent the better part of a decade chasing the perfect crust, fueled by a dangerous mixture of curiosity and unyielding hunger.
My search has led me down rain-slicked alleyways and into crowded dining rooms where the air is thick with the scent of fermented dough and blistering mozzarella. I’ve developed a reputation among my friends as the person who refuses to eat a mediocre slice, even if it means driving across the state at midnight just to satisfy a craving.
My journey through Washington has been nothing short of a culinary odyssey, revealing hidden gems that command the kind of devotion usually reserved for religious movements…