During a long running/ellipiticizing session last week I kept thinking of the mini-pizza I’d bought at the whole goods store and how great it would taste as my post-workout reward . Imagine my horror when I ripped open the cardboard box and this monstrosity slipped out.
Broccoli? On a pizza? I thought sprinkling pineapple chunks on top was weird, but this takes the cake (er, pie). In all fairness, the picture on the box clearly displays broccoli, but somehow it looks so much tastier when fully cooked and photographed professionally.
In the picture, the broccoli, tomatoes and cheese all blend into a tasty looking whole. The broccoli florets in the frozen version on my kitchen counter looked like an afterthought someone sprinkled on top after they ran out of pepperoni. They were as welcome as dried cockroaches. Normally I’m fine with broccoli. I don’t pretend to upchuck at its mention, but I’ve never written sonnets about it either. It just doesn’t belong on pizza, okay? Somehow they fooled me by calling it a “pesto” pizza. I don’t really know what a pesto is, but it sounds tastier than “broccoli and tomato.”
I ate it anyway. But next time I’m double-checking the box before I buy.