une nouvelle vie de boheme

Anyone out there remember the pizza menu of horror? Well, that story just got a lot more horrific.

Brumaire, who has a far more adventurous palate than I, decided it wasn’t enough to simply laugh at the pizza descriptions. How parochial, how unscientific! What if these seemingly odd flavor combinations were, in fact, delightful? Wouldn’t I feel guilty for unfairly maligning them?

So the other day, he came home with not one, but both of the pizzas I had so presumptuously derided. And were they delicious?

Yeah. About as delicious as a kick in the nuts.
Bleurgh… I feel ill all over again just looking at this pic, in all its barbeque saucy, hamburgery, pickly glory.

That’s the Indiana: tomato, cheese, chicken, potato, and curry. Halfway through the experiment, Brumaire asked me which pizza I preferred. I just stared at him, mind boggling with the options: barbeque and pickles? tomato-cheese-curry? Even when I rephrased the question to: Which of these combinations makes me least want to hurl? I still couldn’t answer.

It was awful. Quite probably the worst pizza I have ever eaten (and I have eaten pizza in England). Or, as Brumaire so eloquently put it, “this pizza was rape.”