There are other kinds of pizzas, and we are aware of them -- moderately enjoy them even. But none of them are our pizza, the REAL deep dish pizza. On the page, it looks like nothing. The description simple, almost comic. But this is not "just a pizza." That first bite -- how blissful that first bite is. The crust gently cradling the bubbling browned cheese. And then the pepperoni, the slice of green pepper, the hint of chopped garlic, and the light tomato sauce... all so intense, and melded so beautifully, as if made by the hands of God.
THAT is the deep dish pizza Detroiters know. Fighting over the last corner piece was a universal childhood experience (until Jet's finally got wise and introduced the eight-corner pizza, which is really just two small square pizzas in one big box, which is perfectly fine). This, and this alone, comprised our understanding of "deep dish."
Until, at some point in every Detroiters' life, perhaps in his or her teenage years, maybe not until college or later, he or she visits Chicago for the first time, and learns the devastating life lesson that "deep dish pizza" does not mean the same thing to all people.