There’s an episode of Full House where Michelle Tanner tries to earn a cooking badge by mixing her favorite foods—Velveeta and chocolate pudding, followed by tuna and Oreo ice cream. It’s not funny. Or cute. Or slapstick. It’s just gross. And it’s the same thinking that went into Instagram–thirsty Clinton Hall’s newest sandwich: the pizza burger.
Imagine the plainest, saddest of burgers with only shoestring french fries as condiments. Now cover its top bun with the kind of tomato sauce, cheese, and pepperoni used in school lunches. You can't touch it without digging your fingers into the pizza topping. It is culinary Boggle passed off as culinary magnetic poetry, a shotgun marriage of a mash-up that seems like more thought went into the name than into the construction. The only reason to eat an entire one is for the dim-witted bragging rights of surviving it. The many burps you’ll have afterwards will feel, each time, like an exorcism, the soul of this sandwich trying to flee the hellscape it wreaks on your stomach.
There’s a good version of this out there. Pizza bagels are great. Burger pizzas, too. Even last year’s fried pizza calzone. And pizza burgers might be good drunk food. But we’re hesitant to give it much thought because it’s so clear that very little thought went into it.
“If regret was a food, this is what it would be,” said one Time Out New York reviewer.
“Why did they ruin both by just putting pizza toppings on a hamburger bun?” asked another. “It should be a burger in between two pizza-dough buns, like little personal pizzas.”
“The whole point of a burger,” said a third, “is that the bread is there to keep your hands clean while you eat it. My fingers were pressing into meat and cheese.”
Whenever a bad idea comes to fruition, it’s helpful and compassionate to think: This beat out other ideas. Someone said, “No, that's crazy. Let’s go back to that idea of a pizza burger.” We can’t imagine what that aborted idea could have been. But Clinton Hall should pump the breaks on its creativity.
Clinton Hall, what you’ve just sent us is one of the most insanely idiotic things we have ever eaten. At no point in your rambling, incoherent mash-up were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational flavor. Everyone in this office is now dumber for having tasted or even smelled it. We award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.