It starts with a signature cornmeal crust, which pulls double duty as a buttery, decadent holding vessel and reward at the end of your slice. There are so many things working in this thing’s favor that it challenges the notion of what a frozen pizza is and can be. What's good: Table5 tastes like what would happen when somebody attempted to make a Chicago-style deep dish, then gave up, reduced the number of toppings, and called it good. And, as mentioned earlier, the sauce isn't the most remarkable, but it's fine. Room for improvement: The only thing holding it back is a peculiar aftertaste that distracts from the quality, like somebody thought it would be funny to make every third bite taste like a Totino’s Party Pizza. If this was from a pizza restaurant, it’d probably be in the top 10 in most average towns (unless that town was Naples, Italy). Still, there’s a great deal to love here. The cheese actually stretches! The pepperoni is a team player rather than a flavor hog! The sauce is… well, okay, the sauce is kind of forgettable. Pizza Romana is imported from Italy and its heritage shows. And on first bite, the consistency of the crust is absolutely remarkable: It’s springy and doughy and you can fold it in half without it breaking into cracker chunks. What's good: This is one of the only frozen pizzas I tested that came out of my oven that wouldn’t look out of place in an actual cardboard pizza box, with cheese sizzling and a big ol’ bubble in the dough. But that's a lot of wasted real estate in the center, which is often the best part of pizza. The closer you get to the crust, the better it gets. You know when the entirety of the toppings slide off that it's a bad sign. The texture is the real issue, though. Five paper towels later, my pizza was still a slippery mess of grease, and, combined with the sauce and cheese, it completely changed the middle into a mess of doughy goop. The pepperoni-piled on in discs and thick strips-has distinctly off-brand flavor. Room for improvement: Unfortunately, it's topped with what appears to be pizza soup: a combination of mozzarella and a runny sauce that could feel like an afterthought if there weren't so much of it. The crust is also flecked with Parmesan (nice touch) that gives it an almost Crazy Breadish vibe, and it almost completely avoids that cardboard texture. What's good: This frozen pizza crust tastes almost exactly like a HOT-N-READY from Little Caesars, and, while that might not be the epitome of takeout for some people, for me, it hits a certain nostalgia spot. But it's a strong contender among the pizzas on this list. Is this the best frozen pizza in the world? If you dislike cheese curds, maybe not. Room for improvement: It's hard to find faults with this pie. If there is such a thing as Milwaukee-style pizza, this is a pretty solid argument for serving it in frozen form. In addition, the pepperoni, which is presented in discs and coarse-chopped hunks that get a little char, is the most flavorful and least greasy of the lot. This is the rare thin crust pizza that actually nails the cracker-like crust, but it’s the sauce-sweet, salty, not at all acrid-mixed with the saline, smoky cheese that really gives it a lift. Semantics aside, Outsiders kind of pulls it off. What's good: According to the packaging of this frozen pizza, Milwaukee-style pizza is a regional variation loaded with spicy sausage, caramelized onions, and cheese curds. And, while the dough is delightfully tangy, it’s also got a glutinous layer that distracts from the crispy exterior. Room for improvement: I do wish the bacon tasted more like bacon, and I’d imagine that bigger chunks would do the trick and keep them from being overpowered by the pepperoni’s spices. Am I still going to devour this pie? Absolutely. Things get interesting in the toppings department, too: not content with pepperoni slices, this basic pie comes with chunks along with bacon, which is minced into the consistency of pork floss. What’s good: One of the few frozen pizzas you could legitimately mistake for a restaurant pie-though don’t confuse it for the iconic Vermont pizzeria of the same name-American Flatbread manages a high degree of pliability in its springy, slightly tangy crust, which is easily foldable in contrast to its cardboard brethren. American Flatbread Uncured Pepperoni & Uncured Bacon
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |