I had so much hope for this pizza. I mean, seriously, it sounded like it had EVERYTHING. A pretzel crust stuffed with cheese. Any toppings that I wanted. Base price? $10.99. It didn’t sound bad at all.

So I ordered. I ordered with the gusto of an explorer venturing into i chartered territory; with the exuberance of a child seeing a wide open field with fresh, untouched powdery snow. This pizza would be mine and I would savor every morsel.

The ‘za arrived and I was taken aback a little. It is hard to describe but Pizza Hut has a distinct smell to it. As soon as you get a whiff of it you instantly recognize it. This was my first warning sign.  The box was fairly heavy.

That’s a pretty heavy duty, hefty box. I mean, you really need to give PHut’s marketing and packaging designers credit. It really pops and looks substantial. The heat, the warmth radiating from the box got me even a tad excited.

Yes, I’m referring to Pizza Hut as PHut, pronounced as “pffffft”.

Upon opening the box you’re greater with the ‘za. Now, I have to admit that maybe my order was ambitious. I went from the single-topping $10.99 deal and threw on more. Pepperoni, sausage and onions doesn’t sound that bad, does it? With a stuffed pretzel crust that brought my order to over $21.  

I mean, it didn’t look bad and my hopes were still pretty high for this pizza. The funny thing about PHut is that the pizzas have a distinct taste. As soon as the box kid was lifted the smell emanating from the box was unleashed and overwhelmed my nose. Moments like these make you realize how close your sense of smell is to your sense of taste.

The pizza was loaded with ingredients. Lots of pepperoni, generous amounts of sausage interspersed with red onion. The crust looked to be an appropriate pretzel brown speckled with salt, adequately tough against the tapping of a fork.

And then I ate a slice of the pizza.

PHut.

I wish I took a picture of the box after I lifted the slice from its cardboard home. The slice was heavy and oily; the crust had no rigidity to it and had a hard time containing the ingredients stop it. The space where the slice used to sit looked as if someone decided to fingerprint with oil.

Shoveling that steaming hot first bite into my face completely betrayed all my expectations. The pizza was far too salty, possibly a combination of the pepperoni and the pretzel crust. It was seriously overpowering. The crust, although browned on the bottom, was rendered a soggy mess by all of the oil. It had no real flavor.

The pretzel crust itself was an ideal representation of almost all of this pizza’s imperfections. Visually it was a treat, conjuring fantasies of a giant soft pretzel you’d get at a movie theater or ball park. The reality was that the saltiness completely destroyed what should have been an joyous experience. The cheese stuffed into it was indistinguishable and a total letdown.

Which brings me back to the “taste” of PHut. It seems like whenever I order from this pizza chain their food had a distinct, subtle taste regardless of which franchise you go to. That taste is similar to sucking on a piece of aluminum foil – a hint of metal that permeates the entire meal. It is truly a surprising development that I’ve come to recognize over the years. This may possibly be due to the type of “butter” or oil used in their dough.

I ate two slices of my $25 pizza (I tipped the driver). For all my excitement and anticipation I was thoroughly disgusted with this meal. I sincerely felt like kicking myself for going through this expensive experiment only finding myself throw most of it away.

VERDICT: this pizza was such a disappointment. I feel like I royally PHut myself with this one. The only real redeeming thing about it was the packaging. I was quite impressed how the box did not show any signs of seeping oil.