My dream was that it would taste like pizza and hot dogs, and also that it would give me the trots. Not all dreams are sweet, my friends.
No, I kid. I owe you a real review after this impassioned defense of frankenfood last week. For starters, because I’m not an animal who’d mix hot dogs with pepperoni, I ordered the slop plain. Putting yourself through a de facto medical experiment for the entertainment of your readers doesn’t mean you need to give up your dignity. The dough was oddly light on sauce, which may have been strategic — who wants a pool of marinara in their stomach while it’s trying to process the mustard dipping sauce you’re using for your dogs? — or may just have been the ennui of the Pizza Hut prep room expressing itself in inattention to detail. The dogs were thin, more like little sausages than classic pigs in a blanket. They weren’t tightly encased in the crust as a traditional cocktail frank might be but slid easily from their cells, wee fugitives from a Dannemora of carbs. That made them convenient to share with pets, at least.
The taste was … how can I describe it? Ah, yes: They tasted kind of like hot dogs. And the pizza kind of tasted like pizza. Because, see, that’s all this ever was — cocktail weenies and pie, connected by a strip of dough. They could have achieved the same thing by offering a free side order of pigs in a blanket with every medium-sized pizza, but no one would have blinked at that because it didn’t have the goofy stunt appeal of actually attaching the franks to the pizza itself. That’s why all of the reviews online about how this is the worst food ever created by humans are transparent bullsh*t. It’s no worse than any other Pizza Hut pizza. It’s just Pizza Hut plus an unimaginative gimmick, the most innocuous combo on the American food landscape. Wake me when they decide to get adventurous and make the crust entirely out of Cinnabons. You sick bastards will order pepperoni on that too, won’t you?
Also, just for the record, no trots. Or rather: No trots yet.