To make a long story short (which is another way of saying "Buckle your seatbelts; it's going to be a long story), I needed some pepperoni.
Cranky and I picked up a vacuum-packed lump of "uncured" (nitrite-free) pepperoni slices at Whole Foods yesterday, but the checkout person wouldn't let us buy it. The bag had lost its suck, and ballooned into puffiness. Not good. So she set it aside and we paid for our raw milk (ouch, muy expensivo; expiration date still OK, but that's another story).
But I still needed a little bit of pepperoni for an upcoming scheme.
So we ordered take-out pizza.
Have you seen the Round Table ads for their Artisan Pepperoni pizza? A completely idiotic mishmash of lowbrow-meets-pseudo equals "a good time was had by all."
What I'd like to know is Who or Where is the Artisan who created this industrially mass-produced heap of hooey?
Look. It's burned. The roasted tomatoes are burned, the pepperoni is burned, the disgusting, shriveled worms of basil are burned.
This is purely marketing hype — a meaningless appropriation of an upscale term ("artisan") that, once appropriated, then had to be spoofed by the commercials to sell it to the downscale public.
I will say the pizza tasted pretty good (salty, yes, but that was expected, and too much tomato sauce as usual), and the thin crust is not bad at all for a chain restaurant.
Which is to say it served its purpose:
We were fed, and I peeled off a couple of slices of pepperoni to save in the fridge, awaiting my artisanal ministrations. Bwaa-ha-ha-ha!