The first time I smelled the heavy, sweet scent of yeast and caramelized cheese wafting from a blue steel pan, I was barely tall enough to see over the laminate counter of my grandfather’s favorite pizzeria. In Michigan, pizza isn’t just a quick Friday night meal; it is a storied architectural feat that requires the right kind of seasoned metal and a profound respect for the lacy, burnt edges of brick cheese.
I remember the specific sound of a metal spatula scraping against the sides of a pan, a rhythmic clinking that promised a crust both airy and profoundly buttery. Cloverleaf Bar & Restaurant in Eastpointe carries that exact sensory memory into the present day, acting as a living museum for the original square pie.
When you sit beneath the glow of the neon clover, you are participating in a tradition that predates most modern food trends by several decades…