Posted by Robyn Lee, February 26, 2008 at 10:00 AM
Nothing gets the stomach juices flowing quite as well as a ring of shrimp with tails dangling in the air and heads swaddled in tubes of cheese-stuffed dough.
My idea of a pizza is rather basic: a flat round of dough covered in tomato sauce, dotted with mozzarella, and topped with a few basil leaves. But in the world of East Asian pizza chain pies, that would be some major weak-sauce pizza. Where are the shrimp, potato, and mayonnaise toppings? Where's the hot-dog-and-cheese-stuffed crust?
During my search for extreme Asian pizzas, I mostly noticed the range of unconventional crusts, ranging from those stuffed with hot dogs to crusts filled with sweet potato mousse. After the jump, check out my list of Top Ten Weird Asian Pizza Crusts, arranged from least weird to most bizarre.
Posted by Adam Kuban, January 19, 2008 at 11:00 AM
I'm obsessing over this Japanese stovetop pizza oven that looks like it would replicate the ideal baking conditions of a traditional Italian pizza oven. I say "looks like" because, honestly, could this thing really work? I have my doubts. Not to mention that the pies that come out look incredibly small.
SCREEN NAME REDACTED: prepare to have your mind blown: hot-dog stuffed crust pizza - http://yumsugar.com/407464 nycslice: seen it: http://slice.seriouseats.com/archives/2007/05/pizza_link_roundup.html nycslice: ;) nycslice: and, yes, my mind was thoroughly blown nycslice: i kinda want it nycslice: i wish we had real pizza huts in nyc nycslice: instead of the pizza hut express locations SCREEN NAME REDACTED: so do i - i love that it's half and half nycslice: (um, i can't believe i typed that)
A winner in the Slice Pizza Haiku Contest, that is. We asked readers last week to compose a haiku and submit it for the chance to win one of three fabulous prizes. (Or maybe not so fabulous, depending on your penchant for Japanese snack food.)
We had 18 entries (we expected more; come on, people!), so it was a tough decision, but here are the winners, as selected by yours truly....
Third Prize a.k.a. Second Runner-Up a.k.a. Bronze a.k.a. Show
flour on marble
blooms into flames crisping dough
bubbling cheese cools — N.H. Liao
I thought Ms. Liao's entry was the most poetic of the haiku submitted, presenting two distinct yet complementary thoughts that evoke the image of an almost-too-hot-to-eat pizza. She wins a Japanese-language "I Love Pizza" pin (above right). [Full disclosure: I am acquainted with Ms. Liao, and you're going to have to trust me when I say that this did not affect my scoring.]
Second Prize a.k.a. First Runner-Up a.k.a. Silver a.k.a. Place
Next morning fridge slice
The truest test of pizza
Beats Cheerios always — Eric Sohn
Mr. Sohn's Yoda-esque haiku speaks a universal truth about pizza. Almost any pie tastes great hot from the oven. But a night in icy lock-up truly reveals whether a slice can hold its own. And who would pass up tasty cold pizza for a bowl of flavorless whatever-the-hell-they're-made-of Cheerios? Mr. Sohn (who I do not know) will receive one (1) box of Crispy Pizza Pretz (above left) and a Japanese "I Love Pizza" pin.
Want to get your hands on a box of Pizza Pretz? Enter the Slice Pizza Haiku contest and you just might.
Let's not get into what does and doesn't define haiku and just say that what Slice is looking for is what most of us learned as children—the ol' unrhymed 5-7-5 syllable structure—but with a twist. It must be pizza themed.
Send your pizza-themed haiku to adam (at) sliceny (dot) com with the words "Pizza Haiku" in the subject line. The best, as judged by me, will win three (3) boxes of Pizza Pretz and a 1.25-inch pin that translates roughly to "I love pizza" (pictured). Second place gets one (1) box of Pizza Pretz and a pin. Third place gets a pin.
Have a look at the contest rules below. Good luck, folks.
CONTEST RULES | One entry per person .::. This contest is not open to Slice staff members or anyone affiliated with Slice parent entity Hatchback Media or any of its subsidiaries, notably A Hamburger Today, nor is it open to residents of Chicago, the city of deep-dish dreck. .::. Entries must be received by 2 p.m. EDT Friday, June 24 for judging on Sunday, June 26. Winners will be notified by e-mail and will be announced on Slice at 12 p.m. Monday, June 27. .::. By submitting an entry, you agree to let Slice publish your haiku in electronic or print form. .::. Prizes will be sent via USPS Priority Mail; winners must provide shipping address upon notification of award.
Not so long ago, this reporter found himself at Yagura Market, grabbing a quick lunch of sansai udon to go. (There's not much in the way of good pizza in Midtown.) While waiting for order number hyaku ju ni to come up, I figured I'd pick up a box of that old gaijin favorite, Pocky, manufactured by the Glico company. Though I was familiar with the sweeter versions of the chocolate- and what-have-you covered pretzel sticks, I was not aware of the company's Pretz line of snacks, which apparently predate Pocky (the latter being Pretz dipped in different confectionary concoctions).
On the shelf were Tomato Pretz and Salad Pretz, and I thought, "Why, that'd just be rich if there were ... " and then I saw it, "PIZZA PRETZ!" I felt as if I had singlehandedly willed this insane and unexpected snack into existence through the sheer power of wishful thinking. Of course I bought a package. (Three, actually.)
"Number 112! Hello! One hundred twelve!" My udon was ready. I paid for it, and my Pizza Pretz, and hightailed it back to the office, keen on tearing into this salty snack.
Can you believe it's actually good? If you've ever had pizza-flavored Pringles, or pizza Combos, you might have a hard time believing that, but I kid you not. Pizza Pretz are subtly flavored, and you can actually detect a hint of tomato in addition to the more pronounced cheese taste. Unlike the aforementioned Made in the U.S.A. pizza snacks, Pizza Pretz don't overwhelm the eater with a huge hit of nasty powdered cheese that tastes nothing like pizza. There's just enough of the flavor powder dusted on the sticks to make them tasty but not so much that you quickly tire of the snack and wonder how you're going to finish the package.
Speaking of package, the Pretz box contains four slim foil packages, each one containing about nine sticks, that look almost astronauty. Next time I need a quick meal to go, I suppose I could pick up a box of Salad Pretz in addition to the pizza variety. I've gotta get my veggies somehow.
###
PIZZA PRETZ Where: Available in New York City at Yagura Market, 41st Street between Fifth and Madison avenues. Ikura desu ka? $1.25 Extras: Which Pocky Flavor Are You?
Posted by Adam Kuban, December 15, 2003 at 9:00 AM
Mr. Feldman's photo of the Italian pizzaman in Stockholm prompted me to dig through my own photo archives for this picture. Taken in Kurashiki-shi, Japan, during my latest visit with a longtime friend who now lives there, it shows Mr. Sekizen Kohara at the prep table in his shop, La Cenetta.
Pizza in Japan actually isn't that hard to find (click the Pizza Royalhat image at right for a menu from a Japanese pizzeria). But good pizza is. Sekizen's pie falls squarely in the former camp, and it's what makes his shop popular with Western ex-pats living in the area as well as Japanese.
His skills come from time spent studying in Italy; numerous awards and certificates lining the walls prove it. And with his retro-ish black-framed glasses and jaunty cabbie hat (which he usually wears but wasn't the day I shot this), it's not hard to picture him in some post-War Italian cinema classic.
Sekizen-san uses a small wood-burning oven to make small (ten-inch) thin-crust Neapolitan-style pies. It's been too long (I was last there in March of this year) to give a thorough assessment, but I can say without hesitation that La Cenetta was better than most of the run-of-the-mill slice joints I've tried here in New York City.
I remember trying a plain pie (to use as a benchmark), one with peppers and onions, and one with sausage. All good, except the sausage that Sekizen used tasted less like a good sweet or hot Italian sausage and more like the breakfast sausage you'd find here in the States. Prices started at ¥1,000 (about US$8.50) for a basic plain pie and ranged upward to about ¥1,400.
A couple observations. First: La Cenetta does not slice its diminutive pies. You have to manage this task at table, with a fork and serrated knife. I'm not sure if that's common practice in Japan, as I didn't eat at any other pizzerias while there. Second: The Japanese there ate their pizza exclusively with knife and fork, no matter that the tiny slices were in no way unmanageable. Again: I don't know if that's standard practice everywhere, but it seemed to be the case at La Cenetta—and I got funny looks for eating with my hands. Oh well, sho ga nai!
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Can you believe it's actually good? If you've ever had 
Mr. Feldman's photo of the 
