Calzone

Friday December 26, 2025

To know somebody is to climb a ladder. Each little bit of information you gather about them takes you up steps from acquaintance to friend to so on and so forth. Of course, there are many things that may cause you to slip from that ladder, be it learning information or your own unappreciated actions. But generally, the more information you gather about someone, the more you climb, and the more you decide whether that climb is worth the trouble.

Certain bits of information are useful checkpoints. Some are glaring red flags. Some are both. I think my militant stance on calzone is a bit of both.

If you know of this stance, you’re probably a good friend because you’ve heard me say something to the effect of “I don’t eat calzone that’s not from home,” and still choose to read this newsletter. If you don’t, perhaps the subject of calzone simply hasn’t come up. Perhaps you’re someone who, like the simpletons of Parks & Rec, doesn’t consider calzone a worthy cuisine. Perhaps you, like they, have been denied the comforts of or lack the sophistication to pursue fine dining. Maybe you’re about to swan dive off the ladder upon learning that Ben Wyatt was right.

Be assured that I’m not alone in this stance. In fact, I think most people who grow up in Hingham are militant in their disdain for the calzone of the outside world. That’s because we were well and truly spoiled by Crow Point Pizzeria. (And to a lesser extent, Hingham House of Pizza.)

I bring this up because Daniel Hobbs, my literal first friend in life, came to visit on Tuesday for lunch. We kept it simple by ordering from a local pizza place, but Daniel insisted on trying the calzone — just to see how it stacked up. He offered to pay, so I reluctantly agreed.

He and Lindsay blasphemed themselves by claiming Petrone’s buffalo chicken calzone is better than Crow Point’s. It is not. It’s good. It’s not better than Crow.

Let us explore the elements that make a great buffalo or chicken finger calzone.

• Dough: The regular pizza dough is fine, but it must be nicely turned up at the edges so that the outside is lighter and less crispy than a typical pizza crust. It should be thinly applied on the top, such that one cannot know where the dough ends and the cheese begins. The corner pieces, which are the best pieces, must be fluffy, like Desi’s cheeks. (The face ones.) You DO NOT simply put a pizza on top of a pizza dough like some sort of pizza Tetris. Airy, empty calzone is a sin against God.

• Sauce: NO TOMATO SAUCE. MAY THOSE WHO PUT SAUCE IN A CALZONE BE SENT TO THE SHADOW REALM.

• Cheese: It must blend with the dough atop the filling. This is not a pizza.

• Filling: Make your chicken fingers. Baste them in a buffalo sauce. Bake to dry the sauce. Again, excessive sauce ruins a calzone, and is also a feature of many, many calzones the world over. The single greatest culprit in global calzone diminishment is sauce. Most calzones have far too much sauce, such that they are soggy and fall apart in your hands. Understandably, nobody wants that. This IS NOT A PIZZA.

Behold, a beautiful calzone:

Crow Point

Behold, a perfectly acceptable calzone when you have a craving and don’t have two hours to spare on a trip to Hingham. Petrone’s chicken is too wet, the dough undercooked, and the cheese too inconsistent:

Petrone’s

Behold, a disgrace:

Merry Christmas.

One Hollywood: Vader Johan, Big Mouth, Netflix

The greatest Christmas tale of our time.

One Book: Grant by Ron Chernow

Ulysses S. Grant seems like a guy who would have liked a calzone. When are they making his musical?

One Restaurant: Crow Point Pizzeria, Hingham, MA

Have you learned nothing from this tale?

One Song: Kelly Clarkson - Underneath the Tree

I do not particularly like Kelly Clarkson, but she cooked with this one.

One Food: Shrimp Cocktail

Turner’s, the seafood place in town, set up tables outside on Christmas Eve and were selling shrimp cocktail. I’ve never seen such brazenly predatory behavior. There are shrimp addicts everywhere who could be lured into such a tasty trap. And I was. I was lured into the tasty trap. Shrimp cocktail belongs behind closed doors, not out in the street where anybody could be tempted into spending $30. Do your job, government!