So when I saw "gyro pizza" in the bin, I went out the next day and got it.
Mama Cozzi's coming through again
Since this is obviously the elephant in the room, let's first talk about the "jye-roe" vs. "year-roe" debate that is currently raging and dividing this country, tragically, and needlessly. I grew up firmly in the "year-roe" pronunciation camp. Like, I swear my mom was proud to pass this wisdom down to me, after a day of sullen shopping for "ONLY BLACK CLOTHES!!", in the Holyoke Mall food court. When I check on Google Maps, it tells me that the mall was only about 35 minutes from my house, but when I was 13 it seemed like (or my mom told me it was) 90 minutes. So, basically, Greece. Thus, I felt a sense of righteousness (as I think most people in the "year-roe" camp do) saying it the "proper" way.
But when I moved to Philly and started in the time-honored tradition of ordering from food carts over the din of traffic, food cart motors, yelling South Philly guys, construction, and pigeons fighting for hot dogs, I realized something. Saying "jye-roe" is just more practical. It's hard for preoccupied foreigners to hear "year-roe" over all that city noise. And so I started to say "jye-roe," or, more in keeping with my personality, just started ordering falafel. Now I do a weird thing where I order a "jye-roe" really quietly and when I am inevitably asked for clarification I say defensively, "Or 'year-roe,' whatever!"
I basically had to get this pizza when I saw this guy's anticipatory pizza face:
What's going on here, exactly? He's sailing back to Ithaca, thinking of the last time he had a gyro pizza? He realized that he left the oven on? He just came back from the dead? He's suddenly realized that democracy means letting ill-informed people elect leaders?
At first, I thought this pizza was just okay. And then I thought it was pretty okay, and then sort of got logarithmic, where every day thereafter it decreased by a factor of 10.
As good as it's going to get
I didn't grow up with thin crust pizza and don't really like it, except for when I make pizza myself. Also, this pizza has olives on it which 1) don't belong on a gyro and 2) are gross. That's right, I find olives gross. I have to be strong about this, because lots of people will try to shame you about not liking olives. It's not like I haven't tried! About once or twice a year I eat an olive thinking, "Maybe this time I'll like olives. Palates change!" But it never works. I'm now 25. I've adjusted to brie (tastes like aromatic glue), beer (tastes like bread soda), rye bread (tastes like strongly-flavored birdseed), etc. I'm never going to like olives.
What else do people get food-shamed about? I tend to shame people about mushrooms. I don't really get how you could not like things that taste like dirt in the air. People also like to shame people about whiskey. But whiskey is gross, I don't care what anyone says. It tastes like someone soaked a dresser in rubbing alcohol. I get shamed about not liking guacamole. The reaction is on the same level as if I casually admitted to killing someone's entire family. "WHAT?!" they explode. "YOU DON'T LIKE GUAC?! SOMEONE SHOULD NOT LIKE GUAC TO YOU IN JAIL!" And if you're a woman who doesn't like beer, good-bye. You might as well say to guys and aggressive females, "Please don't respect me anymore." It's not fair, but that's the way the world is. We all know what it's like to get food-shamed, but we love to do it to other people.
Also, this pizza falls prey to what I associate with people who love sriracha: if it's not that good, make it spicy. The hot peppers are the best thing on this pizza.
Apparently my roommate agreed with me, as she had also bought a Cuban pizza, and she went back and bought at least two more. Not that I know that by going through the recycling bin.
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