This may not seem like a big deal to those of you in the audience who reside in the U.S., but there’s a Papa John’s pizza in Sector 18. Even more amazing – this is the first and only Papa John’s in India and it opened just 1 week ago here in Noida. There can be no coincidence about this – God is watching out for us whiteboys!
Tonight Waylon and I made our first visit to this glorious oasis of authentic American cuisine. I can’t quite explain the excitement that I felt tingling through my toes as we walked up to the door and put our name on the “list”. Yes, indeed – it seemed there would be a bit of a wait for a table. We had driven by the place a few times before and noticed that it was always packed. Before we even had a chance to taste the food – we knew it had to be good. This place was doing quite well for itself considering it had just opened. Amazing.
About 10 minutes later we found ourselves at a 2-top, pouring over the nicely-done menus. I was holding back a foodgasm as I saw actual pepperoni on the menu. I don’t even like pepperoni pizza, but the fact that I can’t usually get it here has sent its value to my palate through the roof of my mouth. (Ha! That was a good one.) We finally decided on a medium supreme pizza loaded with chicken, pepperoni, and I think a few other meats and vegetables. At this point I was drunk with excitement and my culinary inhibitions were at an all-time Indian low. Despite my better judgment, in complete disregard of everything I had been told, I did the unthinkable.
I ordered a salad.
“What’s the big deal??” You might be asking. See, the problem is, we Americans have very weak immune systems. Just like we’re not supposed to drink the water in Mexico, the same holds true for India. And salads – fresh and crispy vegetables abounding – usually come in contact with their fair share of water before entering anyone’s mouth. Furthermore, the actual vegetables could contain harmful bacteria if not handled and prepared correctly, hence the CDC’s warning that you should not eat any fruits or vegetables that you haven’t washed and peeled yourself. Some might even say it’s crazy to do so. “You’d have to be insane,” they might say.
The second the salad landed in front of me, looking even more scrumptious than I had imagined, I felt a twinge of doubt. Should I really do this? Should I risk a day hugging the thrown in my 300 degree bathroom? I felt like all I had eaten for the past 2 weeks were carbs and protein. I was craving these vegetables like a smoker who had gone cold-turkey on a deserted island. My body literally ached for these fresh, crisp, delectable ambassadors from the vegetable kingdom. I could feel it in my jaw. I could feel it in my jaw, and that was weird. Screw it! I tossed on the dressing and mixed up the lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes. I stabbed a huge bite with one-of-everything on my fork and shoved it in to my mouth!
Salad had never tasted so good. Honestly, I didn’t even care if I had my pizza. Of course, that was irrational – I wanted my pizza like a kid wants his presents at Christmas-time. But I didn’t really feel like it mattered. There was no turning back now. My fate was sealed. Could I “hack it”? Would this be my first salad, or my last? Only time would tell.
By the time the pizza came out my salad was gone and my attention was refocused. The server melodramatically served up our first slice of pizza. It’s funny, but now that I think about it, I have never been to a Papa John’s in the U.S. were you could actually sit down and be served. Here in Noida, Papa John’s is practically a gourmet restaurant. I had eaten Pizza Hut, which was pretty OK, and heard that Dominos was awful. This looked better than all of them. “Better Ingredients Make Better Pizza.”
Let me tell you, it’s hard to distinguish between PJ’s in the U.S. and here in India. PJ’s was my favorite pizza in the States, and I never ordered anything else. I know what Papa John’s tastes like, and this is definitely Papa John’s. Waylon and I ate half of our pizza (we had also ordered garlic sticks and got a free order of cheese sticks), and boxed up the rest to go. I love cold pizza for breakfast and I couldn’t wait to indulge myself in the morning. Assuming I wasn’t sick by then…
As we left I could confirm what my friends had been telling me. This is the best American food in India. As we pulled away on a bicycle rickshaw, I laughed at the sweet little delivery scooters with a custom Papa John’s pizza warmer on the back. And the phone number? 424-PAPA. 
