TO MY WAY OF THINKING, there are only two kinds of pizza. The first is the simple type: Neapolitan but also any pizza you’d eat in Europe and, for the most part, that Italian immigrants brought to the East Coast.
The second kind is a pleasure delivery system, an orgy of flavor, a textural marvel of crispness and goo, all designed to make your head explode. This is the pizza of the Midwest, invented by cheese lovers. It’s not precisely a satisfying meal because you always want more, even when you’re feeling green from eating too much. Think of deep dish, sure, but also stuffed crust, butter crust, Detroit pan, St. Louis with that weird Provel, and Chicago thin, the new darling that everyone around the country now obsesses over.
Is…