Is it possible that there’s an Imo’s gene? The St. Louis staple celebrates its 50th anniversary this year, and in the time leading up to the milestone, it’s possible some DNA-flipping occurred.
After all, St. Louis–style pizza is nothing if not oft-debated. The Imo family’s best-selling version is the one that immediately comes to mind for most of us. Perhaps, as may be the case with cilantro and artificial sweeteners, there’s something genetic in the ability to enjoy the taste rather than find it off-putting. But I think it’s much more a question of environment: How old were you when you first tried Imo’s Pizza?
Being raised around Imo’s surely contributes to much of the appreciation. My kids would ride with me from Laclede Town to the location near the zoo, carefully load the hot pizza in the car, and rush home. There were no boxes back then, just a cardboard round and the pizza slid into a wide, flat paper bag that was stapled shut. I recall consuming the pizza on the floor in front of the television, shielding it from the German shepherd that often served as the household nanny.
Yet one of my wine-dinner buddies, not a native St. Louisan, freely acknowledges that Imo’s is the nongourmet pizza of choice at his palazzo. That may be the great truth of the arguments: There’s more than one way to enjoy pizza. We can glory in both designer and delivery pizza, something naysayers should remember.
Still, I wonder about that pizza gene. The daughters of my floor-sprawling kids, each raised far from St. Louis, both plead for Imo’s when they visit. And of course, they get it—with more for the adults.
