Judge's verdict: The perfect pizza I spent part of last summer at a conference called the World Federation of Scientists in Erice, a hill town in Sicily. After I finished my presentation on the second day, my mind started to wander to my favourite non-business subject - food - and where I could find something special to eat in this charming town. The answer was pizza, and the best in town was at Ulisse. I Hoovered up one of Ulisse's finest - purely in the interests of scientific research of course - and my effort was definitely worth it. The pizza was cooked on a huge stone fireplace and had a wonderful crust which tasted like focaccia bread, with big rolled edges around the outside and a thinner crust on the bottom. The fillings were delicious - mine had tomato, mozzarella, olives, onions and sausage. A small pizza was a whole meal. Indeed, it was a meal and a half, and I was at least that many pounds chubbier when I went home. Having started on this trail, I continued it at my own small village in France. The Grange, in Tourettes Sur Loup, is the local pizza place in the rural square where we spend some of the summer. The French pizza is different from Italian pizza. The crust was much thinner and lighter. It too was cooked on a stone oven but was lighter, with less tomato sauce, and thinner cheese - not so messy to eat but very good, with a gourmet twist. Toppings are important here, and a fine example of my old motto "if one is good, two is better." Back in London, my son and his fiancé directed me to a new pizza place on the King's Road called Brooklyn Bites - which claims to serve real New York pizza, and guess what - they do! I know, because that's where I grew up. This was delicious, or maybe just familiar: the crust somewhere between the Italians and the French, perfect for London-loving Americans who are nostalgic for their youth. Why is New York pizza so different? Well, it's a massive 20-inch pie. Typically you buy a huge slice or two, which you are meant to pick up with your fingers, fold over and eat like a sandwich. Extra toppings are offered but are clearly not necessary, as plain tomato sauce and mozzarella is definitely the "real thing." The surprise of my pizza quest, however, came a few weeks ago when I visited Strasbourg for the weekend. There my friend pointed me towards the local speciality, Flammekueche, which is essentially Alsatian pizza. It is available at almost every local restaurant on every pretty square. The crust on this magical pie - really a tart - was paper thin and topped with Gruyere cheese and bacon and a bit of cream, and then baked in the oven. It was delightful - light and airy - so much so that I forgot about the calorie consumption and devoured the whole thing in fifteen minutes. This was truly the most elegant of pizzas, and surprise, surprise, you can try it here in London at the Delaunay: for us it is anglicized as "Tarte Flambee." The little lesson of this fattening but fun quest is that pizza is a delicious peasant food, which has grown up to become more worldly and interesting than its simple origins - but isn't that how we all hope to grow up? Lady Judge is chairman of the Pension Protection Fund. All the expenses of Lady Judge's column are met by her