Posts Tagged ‘Napics’

Pizza Paul Nyland; Best in the Business

pizza paul and meii

There I stood in white-hot Ohio sun in my parking lot shaking hands with guy I didn’t even know. It was 2003 and I had been in the pizza business for three years and I really didn’t have time for this. Gordon Food Service had told me they were gonna send a consultant this day but I told them I didn’t need anyone telling me how to run my business. I had forgotten the date and they evidently sent him anyway.

“So Johnny, my name is Paul and pizza is my business, that’s why they call me Pizza Paul.” he said happily as he handed me his Gordon Food Service card that indeed said, ‘Pizza Paul Nyland’ written in large letters on it. “I’m just doing the rounds and would like to show you how to boost the revenue in this fine place.”

“I’m really not inter…” I said abruptly looking away.

“Okay John, let me ask you one thing and I’ll leave.” Paul said holding his palms up in surrender.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Have you ever tried calzones? They are a great revenue generator because they are so good. I can show you how to…”

“Sorry Paul, I’ve been in the restaurant busin…”

“Lemme ask you another thing, Paul said as he reached in his car and pulled a case of cheese off the seat. “How many other pizza places have calzones around here?” He shoved the case in my chest and walked to the front door of my pizzeria.

“Well, I don’t think any…”

“See, you’ll be the first to make calzones if you just let me show you…” he said opening the door and entering. I stood and rolled my eyes in frustration, this guy was not taking the hint to hit the road and he was literally busting into my store. When I stepped into my lobby Paul stepped uncomfortably close and whispered. “Johnny, tell me, who was the first President?”

“George Washington.”

“HA! See everybody knows that! Now, who was the second?” Paul said smiling like he just stole a million dollars.

“John Adams.” Paul’s smile melted in disappointment and he fidgeted.

“Okay John, then who was the third?”

“Thomas Jefferson.” Paul swung around and said, “Nice place you got here, okay who was the fifth President of these United States?”

“Uh, I can’t recall right now.” I said honestly.

“BINGO,” Paul screamed. ” You see Johnny!” Everyone remembers the first person to do something but never the second. THATS WHY YOU NEED TO DO CALZONES!” he pointed to the sky like a preacher which made me smile.

“But…” Paul didn’t give me time to finish.

“This case of cheese if for you my man!” Paul pointed to it. “It’s a new blend from your friends at Gordon Food Service! Now lets make calzones!” he said like a  General as he walked into my kitchen and instantly introduced himself to my young staff!

That day, Pizza Paul Nyland not only changed my menu, he changed the way I looked at Pizza and I made a friend for life! I’ll never forget that first calzone he made a blend of mozzarella and provolone, canned mushrooms and pepperoni. The combination of his enthusiasm and the luscious, fatty and messy way the calzones tasted was irresistible. Paul stuck his mug into each of our faces saying, “Best thing you ever had, huh? huh? huh? as the crisp dough slathered with garlic butter and copious amounts of Parmesan cheese disappeared. As my staff wiped the grease from their chins and slapped Paul on the back, I knew I was hooked on calzones.

Now, over eleven years later, every one of the 81 pizzas I have on my menu can be made into calzones and every year  I saw Pizza Paul at the pizza conventions I would fill him in on my new calzone variants like stuffed ciabatta and stuffed fougasse. I don’t think I ever saw him without a smile on his face and he was never condescending or judgmental, always looking at the bright things in life!

brynne and pizza paul

In 2004, my Manager, Brynne Humpreys accepted the award for Best Gourmet Pizza from Pizza Paul at the NAPICS show in Columbus. (With Big Dave Ostrander, on the left.)

Paul and guys like him are a huge reason why I just love the business of pizza so much. It’s such a small fraternity of dedicated and fanatical obsessives with only one thing in mind- the craftsmanship and love of pizza!

pizza paul and pat miller

Pizza Paul was a tough judge a World Pizza Games at the International Pizza Expo hosted by Pizza Today Magazine last year. Talented Pat Miller of Slice of New York is on right.

With Pauls’ passing, I figure we all try to surround ourselves with people we love and understand. But there are others on the periphery of our lives who’s orbits and interests intersect with ours only once or twice a year creating a bond of commonality that only strengthens with each meeting. As the years zing by, we all get older, smarter and more reflective about our relationships and we start to look forward to seeing those people who have influenced our lives and made us smile so much. After all, it’s not the amount of time that makes a friendship, it’s the intensity, honesty and happiness a real friend brings.

Thank you Pizza Paul Nyland! You were one-of-a-kind.        (Oh, by the way, the fifth President was James Monroe!)



Shoes of a Pizza Man

In 2003, I attended a  pizza competition at NAPICS, (the North American Pizza and Ice Cream Show) in the sprawling convention center in Columbus, Ohio. There were pizza guys from all over the country representing thier pizzerias and pitting their knowledge, experience and pizza prowess against all comers. My manager Al and I headed up into the bleacher seats to wait for the final results and sit down after the grueling day.

“That’s something we don’t have at Avalanche. Look at that old guy, wouldja?” Al pointed with his chin. Over to our left and up one row was an older guy sitting and hunched over in his chair as if playing craps.

“Him?” I pointed.

“Yeah, what a sad case for the pizza business right there.” Al shook his head and snickered. “He looks like he’s been pounding dough his whole damn life.” Al took in the guy like a kid watching lions at the zoo. “Check out those deck burns on his arms, wouldja?”

I looked this guy up and down. His eyes were bloodshot, he needed a shave, and his legs were bent with knees in a constant scissor-like motion. But the most telltale sign of a pizza lifer were the shoes: black springy rubber soled shoes, coated with a white film, splotches of solid white dough blobs, and droplet hits of red sauce. They were misshapen from years of neglect, with the toes formed upward from fast walking. He looked like he had given up taking care of those shoes.

I stared straight ahead and thought about that guy. Maybe the shoes were a metaphor for his life. He stopped caring about something that was just gonna get dirty over and over again. I figured he was alot like me or like every pizza guy in every pizza place doing the same thing. Repetition, followed by more repetition, followed by a new day and more pizza repetition stamps its mark on your soul like a pizza tattoo.  Then all of a sudden, you realize that you are old, worn out and all of your shoes look like shit.

“That dude’s been in this biz way too long. They should just go shoot him now, like they do at racetracks, ya know, like a horse who has a broken….”

“Okay, all right Al, your’ve made your point,” I said in annoyance. “He’s probably one of these guys who owns his own place in Beantown, Ohio, population 57.” I grinned. “I didn’t see him competing.”

Just then a  20-year old girl came up and handed the old man a soda. I had seen her making a pizza in the competition. It looked like a plain sausage, onion and green pepper. The man smiled in a tired sort of way and the girl, obviously nervous about the outcome of her pizza, chewed at her nails as they both looked away onto the convention floor.

“Must be his kid.” Al huddled closer to me, looking straight ahead. “John, if you don’t look out, you’ll end up like that guy. This business will eat you up. It’s no good if you aren’t growing your company and expanding, them chains’ll always be there and they’ll wait you out till you get tired and burnt out. You’ve gotta be a shark and take out all competitors. If you don’t…” Al thumbed to the old guy. ‘You’ll be a shaggy-shoed oldie like him.”

“Naw, I’ll never be like that.” I said.

I came in third place that year, and never looked back until I broke my foot four weeks ago. My doctor told me that I was on my feet too much and that I wore crappy shoes.

Today, I brought all my shoes out from every place they had been tossed: at work, the car, the porch, the closet, under my bed. I lined them up and…

…all of a sudden, I realized I am that guy.