by AL ALVEN of WILDWOOD365.com
WINTER, like Spring, Summer or Fall, is as much a frame of mind as a time of year.
While 20-degree days and bone-chilling winds are not exactly conducive to bikini beach frolics or sand castle-building contests, our capacity to enjoy the sensations of such simple pleasures can never be taken away. This is why we dream.
There is something particularly powerful about the senses of smell and taste. Scent, in particular, has been scientifically proven to trigger memory and feelings of nostalgia, even thoughts that have been “lost” or long forgotten.
Every year, I look forward to THAT moment. There was a time that I didn’t even think about it until it happened, but I’ve since become conditioned to expect it. It’s the instant when that first whiff of boardwalk pizza, combined with the crisp, cold seashore air, enters my nostrils and fills my lungs.
Oh, I would go as far as to say that it’s a life-affirming experience. Sure, we could all live without pizza (… maybe). But this is so much more than that. It’s about reconnecting with my happy place. And, most importantly, sharing in what has become an annual ritual with family and friends, old and new.
Over the past decade, the opening of Sam’s Pizza Palace (26th & Boardwalk) on the Friday leading into Presidents Day Weekend has become one of the great new Wildwood traditions.
This year, the date happened to fall on February 14th – Valentine’s Day. Quite fitting, considering the love affair that has bloomed between this nearly six-decade-old institution and its dedicated fans.
I arrived with my brother, Dave, shortly after the doors opened at 11 a.m., and immediately scanned the spacious dining room under the Shore Plaza Beach Resort. It took mere seconds to locate some familiar faces. And then a few more. And then a warm greeting from the wait staff and a wave or three from behind the counter, and we’re off and running.
Right then and there, as far as I’m concerned, Summer begins. Even though Memorial Day is still more than 100 days off.
Once seated, the order is easy – “One large pie, half plain and half pep, and two birch beers.” It rolls off the tongue without much thought. And then it’s almost akin to waiting for the main course at Thanksgiving dinner to arrive. That first piping hot serving looks so savory, I always hesitate before the first bite. Because it won’t last long. (And yes, I take a photo of my first slice every time. I noticed this year that I certainly wasn’t alone.)
There’s an unparalleled sense of community that defines Opening Day. As the noon hour approaches and the seats and booths fill up, smiles and gleeful chatter from local residents and members of the work force abounds.
Full tables are claimed by parties from various city offices, beach crew and maintenance workers, Morey’s Piers’ departments… “How are you, Tony? It’s been such a long winter, great to see ya!”
“Ann, you made it! I haven’t seen you since August. How are the kids and grandkids?”
“Bob! I thought that groundhog saw his shadow. Guess even he loves pizza too.”
I always like to face the door, not just for the great view of the Boardwalk, but to see who’s about to pop in next. And to catch the expressions on the faces of people coming and going, as they recognize and greet each other. It’s not uncommon to see someone with a filled belly turn around and take another seat for a second lunch with good company.
And speaking of good company, the spirit of the day carries far and wide. Every year, I run into people who make the trip specifically for that first slice, on the first day. Daytrippers from Philly are one thing, but in past years I’ve met visitors from as far away as Western PA, Maryland and New York. This year, travelers from Delaware. And more arrive as the holiday weekend progresses.
Last year, a retired man from Florida noted on Facebook that he was going to try to make the trip. I’m not sure if he ever did, but he added “If I can’t get up the coast before summer, I hope everyone enjoys. Have a slice for me!” That’s what it’s all about. No matter the distance or the conditions outside.
And so, with those first slices, the tradition continues and begins anew . . .
