After reading a preview of this pizza story and its glowing description of the Mario Batali pizza pan, there was only one thought that ran through my head: "I've got to get one of these."

I took off for the closest mall. At Crate & Barrel there was a lovely display of chartreuse enamel Mario Batali pans, but not a persimmon pizza pan. No problem — Williams-Sonoma was located a few turns away in the same shopping labyrinth. Again, a dazzling display of colorful cooking paraphernalia but no pizza pan.

Bita Honarvar/AJC Staff (ENLARGE)

A Mario Batali pizza pan.

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Returning home, I clicked onto that great virtual shopping center in the sky, amazon.com. There it was, gleaming beautifully at me on my monitor. So desperate was I to try it, I clicked on the two-day delivery option and gathered my crust and topping ingredients to be ready when it arrived. My two-day wait turned into three ... and I began to get a bit suspicious when it turned into four. I clicked back on only to discover it was suddenly "temporarily out of stock" and not due in for several months. I clicked "cancel" and began to search the Web for more immediate gratification.

I found it on an unfamiliar kitchen Web site, and although the cost of quick shipping made the pan price high, I pacified myself, figuring what's a week's wait after all these frustrations.

To placate my impatience, I planned a pizza party for the following weekend to celebrate its arrival. Imagine my disappointment when, after a week's waiting, there was still no pan. With company coming in a matter of days, I began to get a bit nervous and clicked on "status," with very vague results. After several attempts to reach a "virtual" customer service rep, I finally received a form reply informing me that sometimes items are not as readily available as planned and the shipping date was now indeterminate.

I again clicked cancel and called Food & Drink Editor Susan Puckett, suggesting the story be held so readers wouldn't encounter similar frustrations. A couple of weeks later, I did another search and found it in stock back on Amazon. I clicked away and a few days later a package large enough to house a Buick arrived. The kids gathered around to view the coveted pizza pan they had heard so much about. As I began to open the bubble-wrapped package, I heard that unmistakable rattling, the one that triggers that eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach when you know something is not right. Sure enough, a broken handle dropped out when I opened the box.

I repacked it, dragged it out to the mailbox and waited again. This time, fortunately, it arrived intact. I could hardly wait to give it a try. I preheated it in the top of my double oven while my decades-old pizza stone heated in the bottom. Two identical pizzas went in. The family waited in anticipation as the inviting aroma filled the kitchen.

When both pizzas were removed, there was a distinctly more golden-hued crust on the bottom of the pie cooked in the Batali pan. If you concentrated hard enough, you might conclude it was the crispier of the two.

But at $60 — twice the cost of a pizza stone — is it worth it? If you're into snazzy pizza presentations, perhaps.

There's one other caveat to bear in mind: It weighs about 12 pounds, so start your weightlifting regimen before ordering.