In Bratislava, you can get a slice or two of “meh” pizza from almost any kebab shop. You can get a slice of thin-crusted Italian goodness with rocket leaves and sundried tomatoes in Primo Amore on Kollarovo Namestie. The only problem is that such quality is not available late at night, after pints. Not that you would care too much after a feed of pints.
So you roam the streets in search of the aforementioned pizzeria/kebaberies. And you happen on a place with a sign that reads “I [Tomato] Pizza”. I believe the tomato is supposed to be read as a love heart. But there is very little to [Tomato] about this pizza. It’s not bad or good, it simply is. In this joint there is a glass jar full of garlic and a brush with which to apply it to your pizza. Italian friends of mine have had conniption fits at the sight of this. They clearly do not [Tomato] garlic like the Slovaks do.
Pizza Mizza has such a [Tomato]-hate relationship with garlic that they have started offering Abortion Garlic.
This was I imagine an abortive (ho ho) google translate attempt to offer the option of removing garlic from the pizza. Why they did not phrase the question as simply “Garlic?”, I do not know. As one friend asked, was it possible to have the baby spinach and abortion garlic at the same time? I wasn’t going to pay an extra 3.40 to find out.
The garlic abortion must have been a lengthy procedure, as it took 2 hours for the pizza to arrive. When I called and asked, in English, for a status update on my pizza I was hung up on. But after 2 hours the ungarliced pizza arrived – along with my satisfaction at using my right to choose. It was the size of a manhole cover, and quite tasty. They neglected, however, to slice it. I don’t know what kind of garlic abortions these guys have been performing.
The pizza world of Bratislava was rocked recently with the arrival of Domino’s pizza. You can now get the same pizza in Tralee, Ireland and Bratislava, Slovakia made to the same kinda-bland/kinda-tasty recipe – truly the Big Mac of pizza. I [Tomato] Globalisation. Now that Domino’s is on the scene with a fleet of bike couriers, who will actually come up to your floor instead of just chilling downstairs and will generally get you your ‘za in 30 minutes, there has been an across the board reduction of pizza delivery times in town (with the exception of abortion garlic, but I will excuse them as it was New Year’s Day).
There are a few “Italian-approved” Pizza places, according to the Boot-dwellers I work with. I cannot, however, vouch for these places (apart from the first one), so if you want to complain find your nearest Italian and tell them:
Expect reviews at some point in the future as I continue to eat my way through this town.