I consider myself a food purist. When I eat grape leaves I want them to be authentic Greek, when I eat shrimp and grits I want it to be Southern home cooking not served up at a Mexican restaurant, and when I eat pizza I expect it to be Italian. For years I fussed over traditional pizzerias around the metro Boston area becoming "Greek" pizza places. The crust is thicker and a little more greasy, the sauce has a sweet flavor to it, and the cheese gives me hives (at least it did when I was in the 7th grade.) I love Greek food but I want my pizza to be Italian.

The words New Mediterranean Menu should have been clear enough for me to know I'm going to be disappointed and should just turn around. My family was now laughing at me, nudging me through the door as I spotted another sure sign of non-Italian-ness: an ad to stop by the local Serb-fest gathering next week. We went inside and of course they were playing Greek music not Frank Sinatra and not the Three Tenors.

"Aww, come on," Kim says, "What's the big deal? Pizza is pizza, right?" Wrong... pizza is not pizza. I'm sure the gyros there are awesome, the baklava looked fresh and lovely, and I bet I would have loved the stuffed eggplant but their pizza was Greek not Italian. Maybe I'll have better luck next time!