A few days ago, Chad and I sought out Flour Girl & Flame—a hip, limited-hours pizza joint in West Allis, WI—for an Instagram campaign. (I signed up with an organization called MKE Hummingbirds, designed to connect Milwaukee creators with local businesses.)
I expected to like the place, but I don’t know that I expected it to trigger such a rush of admiration: not only of the pizza and the vibe and their mission, but also of the food journey I’ve been on over the years.
For big chunks of my life, I’ve lived in places where food didn’t excite me.
And honestly, that’s heartbreaking to consider. Going out to eat, relishing in a meal, connecting with people over food (that isn’t prepared by me, lol) is one of my top expressions and languages of love. It truly is one of my all-time favorite things to do.
However, that lack is inevitable when you live in small towns: even your favorites can grow stale if there aren’t any other options.
In moving to Milwaukee, my love of food has once again erupted. I’ve never been so rewarded by a culinary landscape, which offers ingenuity and flavor and diversity. It’s expansive and I’m on a mission to try it all, as long as the food excites me.
Flour Girl and Flame…nails it. It’s the perfect example: pizza that dazzles and wows with creativity and innovation, but also just tastes so damn good. I love that this weekend we got a traditional Baddie pizza, and next time we could mix it up by making it vegan or gluten free or choosing one of the other mouth-watering options we had to choose between.
As if the food isn’t enough (it is), Flour Girl and Flame is a woman-owned and part of the LGBTQ family—their inclusion and sustainability practices hold them to a higher standard. I couldn’t be more impressed.
I can’t believe I get access to this kind of food and creativity and business power. It really feels like I get to see and experience the manifestations of dreams through food, and I really, really love that.