ShareThisI like Domino's Pizza. THERE, I SAID IT. I don't subscribe to the belief that you can only get quality pizza in Brooklyn or Chicago or New Haven, Conn. I subscribe to the belief that you can get it on your couch, in your underpants, in 30 flippin' minutes or less.
Problem is, my wife's a Pizza Hut lady. Somehow our marriage has survived, but it does mean that choosing a delivery service is always a relationship-threatening ordeal. There's a local independent parlor we can usually agree on, and that's fine ... but it's never as good as the mass-market Domino's I secretly crave.
So one recent night, when my wife had to work late at a conference, I did what all husbands do in that situation: I raced home, locked the doors, turned off the lights, picked up the phone and, fingers trembling, ordered myself a Forbidden Pizza.
The occasion? After 50 years, Domino's decided to reinvent its primary hand-tossed pizza recipe, giving it a garlic-seasoned crust; sweeter, herb-tinged sauce; and "shredded cheese made with 100 percent real mozzarella and flavored with just a hint of provolone." That last part actually sounds mathematically impossible, but whatever. Gimme gimme gimme.
The company is likening the new pizza's debut to nothing less than a corporate rebirth. In a four-minute promo clip making the rounds online, Domino's employees liken the old pies to cardboard slathered in ketchup. (Even I would have to agree with them there.)
"It's taken us 50 years to create a pizza of this perfectitude," reads a mission statement on Domino's new box. "Fifty years worth of listening to feedback, tasting cheeses, crafting sauces and trying every possible combination of combinations we could think of. ... If someone asks if we actually abandoned our old recipe and completely revamped our pizza, you can tell 'em ... oh yes we did."
But how different, you are wondering, can this new recipe really be? Are the changes worth it, or are they too subtle to notice? After taking a pepperoni pie for a test-spin, I have a few observations:
The smell: Sprinkled with crumbles of cheese and green herbs, the crust has a more strident, Parmesany scent; everything in the living room absorbed its garlicky odor within minutes. Good thing I was alone.
The crust: Domino's pizzas used to be too flimsy, too doughy and too slimy. You practically needed to set the box on a newspaper, lest a greasy imprint of your pie soak through to your coffee table. This new crust is chewier, a little springier, with just a hint of crispness on the edges. Knowing what I do of pizza snobs, this improved texture is probably something they'd appreciate. It tastes like garlic bread.
The sauce: In my opinion, this is the best improvement -- not in terms of taste, but of volume. Previously, Domino's pizzas were slathered in so much watery sauce you couldn't eat one without wiping each slice on the lid (hence the "ketchup" complaint). Not once did I encounter that problem with my new pizza.
The next day: The real test, as any true Domino's fan knows, comes the next day at lunch, when all of the old recipe's soaked-in greasiness pays off with a perfectly moist and chewy second-day pizza. Here again, I'm happy to report that Domino's performed admirably. Not too greasy, not too tough, still plenty of flavor.
It's a little shocking how seriously the Domino's folks approached the task of improving their pizza. They actually took what I viewed as problems -- too much sauce, too much grease, undercooked crust -- and attacked them head-on, one by one. The result is an undeniable improvement.
I doubt any of the hoity-toities in New Haven would agree with me, but at least I can now argue my case for Domino's with my head held high.
I believe I'll start with my wife.
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service www.scrippsnews.com)
Must credit St. Petersburg Times
