Open letter

Dear Domino's Pizza:

You've lately been touting your "new" pizza, which, you'd have us believe, tastes good. That's a bit of an odd premise to begin a commercial with, but hey, that's up to your ad guys, not me. But apparently you've been listening to critics of your pizza, and have won them over.

Well, Domino's Pizza, I recently tried your new pizza. I was at home last week with my mom -- I think it was a Friday night, but I could be wrong -- and we felt like pizza. Now, I'll be honest: I haven't had your pizza since I was about 10. I think it was about the same time my Boy Scout troop toured one of your facilities. I remember being unimpressed then.

Since that time, I've had lots of really good pizza. Madison was a great town for the stuff, what with Ian's and Falbo Brothers and whatnot, and while I'm no connoisseur, I'd say I know a good pie when I taste one. Now, Domino's Pizza, I know it's no fair to stack you guys up against the likes of some of the specialty pizza places in Madison, but I've had a fair amount of basic, delivery pizza too, and it's always been pretty tolerable, if not even decent.

So when my mom proposed ordering your pizza, Domino's Pizza, I'll admit I was sceptical. "You don't like Domino's," my mom said. "Well, it tends to taste like cardboard," I replied. "But they say they changed the recipe now, so maybe it's different." Anyway, we had a coupon, and my mom does like saving money at every chance, so we gave you guys a call. The coupon allowed us a whole three toppings, so we chose sausage, green pepper, and extra cheese.

The girl who delivered the pizza was prompt and nice, and the pizza was even still hot when we got it. So that was nice. And it smelled fairly good as I carried it to the table (I was pretty hungry by this point). My dog certainly was interested, but she also likes eating oranges (no really, she loves 'em), so she might be an outlier. At any rate, I cut up a few slices, popped 'em on plates, and carried them out to the back porch. We were watching TV out there, you see -- one of those makeover shows, probably, knowing my mom's TV habits -- and didn't really want to sit down at the table.

Now, Domino's Pizza, this is where the story takes a turn. See, I don't think I've ever gotten my hands so greasy just by handling a food substance in my history of handling foodstuffs, except that one time when I got into the lard. A simple napkin was not up to the task of cleaning my hands, so I washed them. Maybe that's just your way of reminding me that I should really always wash my hands before a meal, but I somehow don't think you had my hygiene in mind when making your pizza.

So anyway, down we sat to feast on your tasty new recipe pizza. Clinton (or was it Stacy?) were probably just tossing some poorly-dressed fool's clothes in their trashcan. We lifted our slices up, and bit in. We munched contemplatively for a while. The first bite sort of slithered down my throat; I guess the grease helped speed it on its way to my stomach. The cheese was okay, but I really wondered where it came from -- it sure tasted "unique"! I know you're going for a one-of-a-kind taste, dear Domino's Pizza, but maybe you should go for "bland" instead. Also, there was some sort of odd seasoning on the crust, that seemed to have been stuck on with an extra serving of butter or something -- I'm not really sure what that was about, but you might want to reconsider that, too.

At any rate, after we'd each finished a piece, the inevitable question was raised: "So, how was it?" my mother asked. "Well, it does taste less like cardboard," I noted in your defense. My mother laughed. We finished most of the rest of the pie, each bite sliding down my throat like the last. At least you're consistent.

At the end of the night, Domino's Pizza, there was one piece left. We wrapped it up, knowing that usually, reheated pizza is a great treat. Often, if I have leftovers, I'll even take it in to work as my lunch the next day.

I don't think I'll be reheating your pizza.


Steve S

PS. Probably you don't need to bring me another pizza, like you have been for other critics. Even if you change the recipe again.