Just as certain city blocks contain the cuisines of a half-dozen different countries, pizza in Los Angeles doesn't conform to one nationality — it practically circumnavigates the globe.
There are South American pizzas shaped by decades of Italian immigration and Croatian pizzas forged along the shores of the Mediterranean. Korean and Japanese corporations have taken to testing their unique interpretations of pizza on L.A.'s international appetite. And some foreign pies defy classification altogether, labeled as pizzas by restaurants and diners searching for a simple descriptor. It's all part of the naturalization process.
I have had and love Georgian pizza kachapouri at Big Mama and Papa's, covered in feta, spinach and onions, with an egg in the middle. Yum. I have also tried Armo-Turkish pizza Lahmjune, which is rather tasty. I miss the El Cuartito pizza from BsAs, my friend Jeremy was just there and had me salivating at the memories. Ms. Nomi and I are off to try the Israeli malwach pizza post-shabbas. Perhaps my friend and Thai-afficianado Erin will be down to try the thai curry pizza.
You may laugh at all my gastronomist babblings, but don't forget that it was food that drove the age of discovery. For the prospect of salt, pepper and spices, explorers were willing to sail past the Cape of Storms (err... Good Hope:) and off the flat world. Napoleon was right when he said an army marches on its stomach. Many more march off on such hunger pangs and premises.