A lot of people don’t get tomato pie, the hyper-regional, served-cold, thick-spongy-crust-pizza-bread more commonly sold out of bakeries than pizzerias. But for those of us who grew up with it, it’s a magical thing: a masterful balance of pillowy dough, slightly sweet sauce, and a savory dusting of parm or romano cheese, best eaten cold out of the box, maybe even on the hood of your car.
Growing up in the Philadelphia area, tomato pie was one of those things that was just always around, and everyone had a strong opinion about who made the best. Later in life, I was shocked to learn that what I called tomato pie was virtually unknown across the country, save for a few scattered regions like central New York and parts of New England.
