Takeaway pizzas are a cornerstone of the “I can’t be fucked cooking” catalogue: when your parents couldn’t be fucked trying to satisfy your picky childhood palate with homecooked meals; when your boss couldn’t be fucked giving you a bonus so you got a pizza party; or when your flatmate couldn’t be fucked fulfilling more than the bare minimum of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs for their flat meal.
In line with doing the bare minimum for your next meal, we took it upon ourselves to take the decision-making out of it. Christ knows you’re sick of deciding shit. Critic Te Ārohi ordered the standout pizza from six different pizza places in North D and North East Valley (because we couldn’t be fucked going any further out) and pitted them against each other in the second great Critic pizza review.
We used three metrics for this review. Firstly, the value metric (cm²/$) to find out the optimal ratio of square centimetres you can get for one dollar (borrowed from the inaugural 2021 review) – the higher the number, the better the value. The second metric was taste and appearance which was decided across Critic staff. The third was a grease splatter reading by our Orb – like a star-sign reading but somehow more arbitrary.
*Disclaimer: Sizes were measured on the iPhone measuring app. We have doubts about its accuracy but we couldn’t be fucked finding an actual ruler.
Domino’s: Pepperoni ($7.99)
Domino’s has no soul. Buying their pizza leaves you with the same pit of guilt as getting one-shotted by an online advertisement for some Temu dupe that you don’t need – and that’s before you remember OUSA has included the chain on their BDS list. The pizza was also cut extremely unevenly in a way that screamed corporate conveyor belt. Swiftness was clearly prioritised over quality, leaving one tiny slice that would definitely get left to the neglected friend whose ability to speak is still somewhat up in the air. Cheese was minimal and skewed to one side of the base, while the other was almost entirely overwhelmed by the sauce which gave the same “acidic aftertaste” as eating raw tomato paste. Anyway, we got the Pepperoni. Pepperoni placement was also shit. That being said, it's a Domino’s Value pizza. You know what you’re going to get: definitely not greatness but certainly a feed that would satisfy a carb-craving, then be forgotten in the fridge and still be edible a week later.
cm²/$: 56. Domino’s being $8 is a scam.
Taste & Appearance: 5/10. For how much you should pay for this.
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering Domino’s believe the earth is flat.
Pizza Hut: Classic Cheese ($6.99)
If Domino’s is Maccas, then Pizza Hut is Burger King. There are some differences but at the end of the day it’s the same thing. It’s the illusion of choice, except here the pizza is a dollar cheaper and gives you less cheese, less sauce, and about 6x more bread. Overall, the quality was far superior. The base was compared to focaccia at one point. Despite the lack of it, the sauce was less metallic and honestly pretty good – you could even taste herbs! The cheese had more flavour that you could actually taste while still remaining inoffensive. Overall a more satisfying munch – this pizza would tell you it loves you and then ghost you, but it does give good head. Shoutout for online banking being an option here and the only guy working on a Monday lunchtime definitely not giving a fuck if we paid or not.
cm²/$: 75. Officially the best value for money that Critic could find.
Taste & Appearance: 6/10. Like a warmed up New World pizza bread.
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering Pizza Hut want to be different. They wear suits to philosophy lectures and refuse to vote to “fight the system”.
Sal’s: 5 Boroughs ($45)
Sal’s is a gentrifier. They are one step away from making you order from a QR code and hanging up a neon sign that says something like “pizza heals the soul”. Feeling like contributing to this gentrification, Critic went for the ‘5 Boroughs’: a NYC blend of mozzarella, ricotta, marinara, and pesto. A pizza that would go down well after ordering a $10 matcha latte. Don’t get it twisted though, Sal’s is damn good. Upon first bite one staff member said, “Wow, so that’s incredible.” The pizza had huge fuck off EVEN slices with artfully arranged blobs of each topping, with a lovingly squirted black garlic sauce swirl. The crust was gorgeous, charred from what we assume was a woodfire oven and puffed like a Chilli Dhaba naan. While the pools of grease might tempt an almond mum into dabbing with a paper towel, a nonna would slap her hand away and passionately rant about the nutritional benefits of olive oil. Sal’s is just not in the same league as Domino’s or Pizza Hut in terms of taste but that's reflected in the rough price of $45. That said, a pizza can feed two people – or one determined sub-designer who was subsequently “put out of commission”.
cm²/$: 35. Takes away from the savings for another pair of Veja shoes.
Taste & Appearance: 9/10. Like “ironically” wearing a ‘I Love NY’ shirt.
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering this pizza will post a story of it in the middle of an Instagram slacktivism run.
Filadelfio’s: Curious George ($30)
Ladies and gentleman, Critic has found the new “does pineapple belong on pizza”: banana on pizza. Filadelfio’s in North East Valley’s Curious George pizza is a decades-old curiosity, boasting a combo of ham, chicken, brie, and banana in what we can only assume was a munchie experiment. Sure, this was your parent’s favourite pizza place and they took you here on your first weekend in Dunedin after carrying all your bags into halls. But no amount of tradition or nostalgia excuses putting banana on a pizza. This pizza was definitely made by a mum who’s always too busy for you, and she took everything off the kitchen bench and put it on this pizza. It worked this time, and honestly the banana made it, but that didn’t make it necessary to offend every single Italian. Despite being a cheesy delight, this was still overall a dry experience, like a fairly mediocre hookup. And just like a mediocre hookup it left you with post nut clarity that you didn’t want to eat anymore, and overwhelming guilt for daring to in the first place.
cm²/$: 19. Somehow the least value for money as well as the most offensive.
Taste & Appearance: 7/10. Flat average, one piece is enough.
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering this pizza feel the call of the star spangled banner and are determined to succeed in Hollywood as a TikTok influencer.
Hell Pizza: Lust ($23.50)
Hell’s Lust pizza was almost enough to move us to tears. Not because it was the murder site of every red-blooded animal on the planet, but because we had never seen something so beautiful. A slice with a stick of butter is the new eggs and steak. There was a perfect amount of grease – pretty wet for a pizza but dry for a pizza called Lust, which is a gross name for a pizza. The bbq-smothered base was really only there to carry the carnivorous topping and was without a doubt the low point. But when you’re tasting “literal fireworks” (direct quote) the low point ironically isn’t in hell. Staff writer Molly admitted mid-bite that if she was fucked up enough, she would cry at the sight of it. This pizza could convert the Pope to paganism. Vegans and Christians look away.
cm²/$: 28. Worth it, every cm is covered with meat.
Taste & Appearance: 10/10 for the meatlover
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering this pizza know pleasure, they know exactly what they want in life, in the bedroom, and in food – and it’s this pizza for all three.
Poppa’s: Poppa’s Special ($16.99)
Full Poppa's appreciation here – vibes are incredible and if you couldn’t gauge their love for scarfies from the old Ori’ posters on their walls, you can taste it in their pizzas. However, the size of this pizza (we got the regular) was a travesty and definitely limited its ranking. It did have a good heft to it though and a nice array of toppings to make up for being so miniscule. A nice fuck you to the “picky eaters” who steer clear of onion, mushrooms, olives, and other basic-ass dislikes. Cheese and sauce were both perfect, and the corn was a surprisingly welcome pop of sweetness.
cm²/$: 20. Would make for a good study break lunch.
Taste & Appearance: 7/10. Tasted like the best and most flavourful frozen pizza you’ve ever had.
Grease Splatter Reading: People ordering this pizza are absolutely determined to achieve their goals. They will leave Central long enough to swallow this whole and that's all the time they have.