BLOG: GODFATHER’S PIZZA (ESTD 1973) “A Pizza I Can’t Refuse.”
Like any complicated relationship, mine with Godfather’s pizza has always been an unresolved one with hard, strong, traumatic roots planted firmly in my childhood. But the desire to revisit this franchise was one plagued by geographical location. Y’see, there hasn’t been a Godfather’s pizza shop (that I knew of) anywhere near the Bay Area/Northern California since around 1993, which did nothing but forge the damn joint into legendary status in my memory.
I searched and searched for years. And by that, I mean I’d enter my zip code into their website’s store locator once in a while with all of my fingers and toes crossed down to a white knuckle. During that time I was certain that the closest spot was down in San Diego. Believe me when I tell you, there were plenty of evenings I’d wake up in a nightmare sweat-fueled desire, juggling cost logistics as to how to best make a holiday trip down south really essentially stand in as a swing by to this very specific pizza place.
Without getting too heavy about it, there was a family loss some time back which led me back to my hometown (good old Stockton, CA USA) for about a week. My sister has an apartment up in Sacramento and I was commuting back and forth to visit an ill relative that was around 45 minutes away from her place. To be brief, the evening that I had to say goodbye to this person was a rough one. Leaving that night I drove around old neighborhoods, all from my youth, stopping to sit and absorb the atmosphere and quiet of a warm Summer valley star filled evening.
Before hitting the road, I’m really not sure why it occurred to me but I googled “Godfather’s Pizza” and wouldn’t you know it, one came up within easy driving distance from my sister’s place! Totally floored. But yet, this was a real believe it when you see it kinda situation y’know? On that night, burning down the freeway listening to music with nostalgia and sentimentality boiling through my veins, that trip couldn’t have been more exciting. Some sort of silver lining if even just a slight one.
This photo was taken just after pulling into the parking lot.
There it was. Some sort of hypnotic oasis that will define that night forever. Walking in, the smell hit me like a fastball to the chest. I greeted the guy behind the counter and then wandered around a bit, like someone who had just had a lobotomy taking their first step into Disneyland. I placed the order for a large sausage and ham pie with extra sauce (because, yeah) and noticed they had some merchandise and asked if I could take a look at their T-shirts. There was no way I was gonna leave without something to prove that this was actually happening. One of the friendly employees took time to help me find a cool baseball T that was my size and I grabbed the pizza on my way out, blessing them all like the Pope.
Once I got back and ate that first bite in well over 20 years I knew:
You may never be able to go home again, but you sure can get a slice of it.
