12inchpetetreat

The place where pizza comes to be written about

The pizza nightmare before Christmas

Merry Christmas pizza lovers!

Yes, I really have done a blog entry on Christmas morning, because it’s two and a half hours until The Bull opens its welcoming doors and, quite frankly, if I don’t find something to do then I’m going to start to get the shakes. I hope you had a nice Christmas Eve and are continuing to have a nice Christmas day. I have had one pizza-related gift today, a KitchenCraft Pizza Stone set, so I am very pleased and ready to get my turkey on.

I got this for Christmas, innit?

HOWEVER. My Christmas Eve was less than perfect, and the reason why is pizza-related. See, already, I’ve drawn you in, haven’t I? My evening started, as is often the case in these festive times, at the pub, specifically The Royal Oak, my second-favourite pub in all of olde Wolverhampton town. I had a few wines there with my good friend James Brodie and then, because he wasn’t feeling too great, we decided to retire to the warmth of his flat and watch a film, in this case the Edward Zwick film Defiance, a typically Zwicky war epic about the Bielski Partisans. To accompany the film and the bottle of fine wine I was enjoying, I decided to order a pizza from Dominos and, feeling as if I should play it safe and not be too left-field in my yuletide selection, I went for what is fast becoming my regular order – a medium stuffed crust with sun-dried tomato sauce, chorizo and chicken strips. And then I waited, safe in the knowledge that I would be heartily pizzafied within the half hour.

Well, no such hearty pizzafication took place. Because what arrived (within the half hour, just like I predicted) was this.

Oh dear. Oh dearie dearie me.

Okay. Deep breath.

It’s readily apparent to anyone who reads this blog – and there are now millions of you – that I love Dominos and that Dominos are good to me, if not good for me. They give good pizza, and have really upped their game since they joined the stuff crust revolution. But… Well, look at this. For one thing, it’s obvious that they have got the order wrong and sent me chicken and pepperoni rather than chicken and chorizo, as if believing me to be entirely sausage-non-cognisant. But worse than that, just look at the greasy deposit on the bottom of this box. It is swimming in fatty run-off! This isn’t a nasty pizza like a Pizza GoGo Alligator, this is just a pizza that is nasty! So nasty that I only ate half of it.

But it got me thinking. Although I have great pizzas from Dominos all the time in London, I have never had a good one from Wolverhampton – in the days when I used to order the Double Decadence base (which I now accept to be the pizza equivalent of smoking crack in a Matalan car park) I would, in Wolverhampton, get a base literally dripping with the cheese sauce filling, rendering entire slices almost inedible simply because they were too liquid-floppy to guide into the mouth. I never had that in London. And now this soggy monstrosity, a far distant cousin to the delightfully fluffy, poised Stuffed Crusts that I order to my palatial Tulse Hill home. Which leads me to the question: are Dominos making their pizzas differently in Wolverhampton? To put it as succinctly as I can, and in the Ali G style to boot: is it because we is fat? Are Dominos pandering to, and contributing to, our natural Black Country obesity? In the future, when I order from the Wolverhampton branch, should I request the pizza “in the London style” so they know to go easy on the nasty?

So, my Christmas Eve pizza was a bit of a wash-out. But I’ll live, although having seen the size of the turkey my mom’s in the process of knocking out, possibly not for much longer. Have a very merry Christmas, and enjoy a little festive cheer by backtracking to my guide to making a Christmas deep dish pizza, stuffed with turkey and pigs in blankets. It’s the right thing to do.

This is what Christmas pizzas should look like.

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