REVIEW: Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers

Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers

It’s baaaaack!

Like Pennywise the Clown in Stephen King’s “It” or the McDonald’s McRib (which one is truly scarier?), Little Caesar Soft Pretzel Crust Pizza made a big scene last year before stealthily going into hibernation shortly after. But now it’s back. And unlike the periodic resurrections of King’s killer clown and McD’s mysterious meat, the cult-favorite pizza’s return is much more “glory” than it is “gory.”

But it didn’t come alone. Looking like the illegitimate child from a Pretzel Crust Pizza/Crazy Bread love affair, Lil C’s also debuted their new Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers, which come with a cute little tub of “Aged Cheddar Cheese” (oh jeez, I just described a cheese tub as cute; are you proud of me now, Mom?).

Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers 2

I opened my bag and marveled at the doughy chaos within. Unlike the neat rows of Crazy Bread, the 16 or so Dippers are unceremoniously dumped into a pile. They say the pretzel was invented by a monk who shaped dough into the shape of children’s crossed arms during prayer. If that’s true, then he must have shaped these after Sister Agnes was finished “disciplining” the children’s arms with a yardstick.

Other than that, they do look like Crazy Bread, just firmer, browner, and dotted with translucent salt granules rather than parmesan. And the buttery-ness of my pretzels made the bag as translucent as the salt: even before opening it, the Dippers were tunneling through the paper like Andy Dufresne behind a poster of Rita Hayworth.

Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers 3

Evaluating these Dippers is tricky, because their quality is very much dependent on their temperature. Eaten hot, the experience is largely pleasant. The rich, golden-baked pretzel shell has enough structural integrity to resist tearing (it’s denser than the pizza’s pretzel crust), but the uneven butter coating makes it lighter, softer, and more oily-tasting in select clusters. Biting through gives way to the same fluffy, aerated center in Crazy Bread.

It’s a recognizable “pretzel flavor” that is reminiscent of those microwaveable Super Pretzels, just with a more hearty chew. This is because the thin Dippers have a “crust to bread” ratio that highly favors the former.

Unfortunately, the haphazard salt sprinkling dampens the experience, as some bites are purely bland butter-dough, while others are overwhelmingly salty enough that’ll you’ll be channeling your inner George Costanza: “These pretzels are making me thirsty!” The few bites that are well balanced, though, make me smile contently and whisper, “That’ll do, Dipper. That’ll do.”

Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers 4

And the cheese. Oh, the cheese. The only thing aged about this cheddar is how it tastes like the orange goo on boardwalk nachos that a carny left out too long. Overwhelmingly oily and slightly too coagulated, it takes away from the pretzel goodness by plastering a tangy, slightly zippy taste in the back of your mouth.

But that’s when it’s all hot. If left too long (and it reached this point even after my short ride home from Little Caesars), room temperature or cold Dippers turn into insanely chewy lengths of flavorless rope as the salt begins to fall off. Biting into any remaining salt clusters tastes like you’re munching on a pirate’s doormat. And room temperature cheese? Like a repulsive cube of Cheez Whiz someone tried passing off as post-modern art.

Little Caesars’ new Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers are certainly an enjoyable alternative pizza side dish, but only under two stipulations: eat them immediately (or keep a microwave on hand), and send the cheese dip directly to Hell, where it belongs the trash.

(Nutrition Facts – Not available.)

Item: Little Caesars Cheese-N-Pretzel Dippers
Purchased Price: $3.49
Size: 16 pieces
Purchased at: Little Caesars
Rating: 6 out of 10 (Dippers)
Rating: 2 out of 10 (Cheese)
Pros: Authentic pretzel taste when salt and butter are balanced. Charming patchwork of crispy and light sections. Adorable cheese receptacles. Seinfeld reruns.
Cons: Rare balanced sections. Temperature-based devolution into cardboard. Semisolid satanic cheese. Sister Agnes’ painful wrath.

REVIEW: Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza

Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza

To me, getting a Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza was like getting GoBot for Christmas. Sure, they’re vehicles that transform into robots, but they’re a lame ripoff of other vehicles that turn into robots. They’re no Transformer, robots in disguise.

In my eyes, the Transformer equivalent of a Pizza Hut hot dog pizza is the Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust Pizza that other countries, like Canada and the U.K., were sold. It was a pizza that looked like a normal Stuffed Crust pizza but instead of the crust being stuffed with gooey cheese, they had significantly not gooey at all hot dogs in them.

Why didn’t that come to our shores? We’re America, dammit! We’ve done so many things with our hot dogs. We’ve wrapped them in bacon. We’ve injected them with cheese. We watch people eat dozens of them one after another for sport. FOR SPORT! I don’t want a GoBot, I want a Transformer! But I have to settle for the GoBot version of a Pizza Hut hot dog pizza.

Each Hot Dog Bites Pizza has 28 pigs in a blanket as the outer crust. Half the slices have three bites and the other half have four. The crust around them…ugh, I can’t delay it any longer. I have to talk about how they look. I don’t know about you, but there’s something disturbing about the way these bites look. Some folks have said they look like toes, and the photo below helps prove that. But my active imagination sees a few other things that probably aren’t appropriate for a food review. But let me just say these things are seen below the waist.

Now back to the review.

Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza Toes

The crust around the hot dogs were toasted nicely, giving them a slight crispy outside. And the dough inside was soft and had a slight chewiness. But the hot dogs themselves don’t look like hot dogs or taste like them. Instead they look like Vienna sausages and have a flavor that reminds me of those little smokies cocktail sausages. As someone who had eaten a lot of cocktail sausages wrapped up in Pillsbury Crescent dough, I liked the familiar flavor of the hot dog bites. But, again, they don’t taste like hot dogs.

Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza Mustard

Each pizza comes with a container of French’s yellow mustard to use as a dipping sauce. Because, you know, hot dogs. After trying them with ketchup, mustard, and a combination of the two, I have to say going with mustard was the right choice. Ketchup seems too close to the sauce on the pizza. Even with mustard, the smokiness of the meat was still noticeable.

Combining the two super junk foods, pizza and hot dogs, into one bite isn’t going to open a portal into Awesomeland. Together, without the mustard, they’re okay. But I think they’re best left separated.

I will admit, although it’s not exactly the Transformer I wanted, this GoBot is kind of cool and it still makes me want to eat the crust more than a cheese-stuffed crust would. Also, I found that one slice with four hot dog bites was enough to fill me up. Maybe it was the extra protein. But I now know I can never eat hot dogs for sport.

(Nutrition Facts – Not available on website.)

Item: Pizza Hut Hot Dog Bites Pizza
Purchased Price: $17.99
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Pizza Hut
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Makes me want to eat the crust more than cheese-filled crust. It’s still pizza with hot dogs in the crust. One slice is filling. Enough mustard for dipping all 28 hot dog bites. Transformers.
Cons: Not as cool as getting a Hot Dog Stuffed Crust Pizza. Hot dogs don’t taste like hot dogs, more like cocktail sausages. For those with active imaginations, the hot dog bites look a bit disturbing. I can’t eat hot dogs for sport. GoBots.

REVIEW: DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza

DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza

Like ’em or not, you have to admit DiGiorno is a gutsy brand. For years, their advertising campaign has been predicated on the idea that an unwitting consumer could mistake their frozen pizza for hand-tossed, homestyle goodness delivered fresh from the local trattoria.

Now, with the introduction of their new line of thin-crust pies, the company has grown so confident in the quality of their work that their packaging is actually shrieking the word “PIZZERIA!“, exclamation point and all, in customers’ faces. But does DiGiorno’s latest creation finally live up to their lofty claims?

Because of my local grocery store’s limited selection, Pizzeria! Thin Primo Pepperoni was the only variety available for me. The box instructed me to place the pie directly on the center oven rack, warning that a pizza stone or cookie sheet may diminish its tastiness.

As an ardent pizza stone user/insane person, this filled me with terrific dread. I envisioned magma-like cheese dripping to the bottom of the stove and bursting into flames, or microscopic mites native only to oven racks infesting the crust. (Obviously, I have an awesome grasp on how science works, you guys.) Thankfully, when the kitchen timer rang, I discovered the pie intact and, from what I could tell, mite-free.

The directions also recommended that I let it rest for five minutes before slicing in, so I took that time to savor the smell; it was slightly herbaceous, but the oregano and basil were overwhelmed by the greasy aroma of the pepperoni (which isn’t a bad thing if you’re aiming for a genuine pizzeria experience).

As I bit in, I found the end product to be a bit of a mixed bag. Let’s start with the cheese: It was unremarkable, owing probably to the lame part-skim mozzarella used. No provolone, cheddar, or Parmesan to add some complexity and depth of flavor? Points deducted.

The sauce was similarly disappointing. Although the packaging proudly describes it as “made with vine-ripened tomatoes and herbs” – uh, I would hope so? – it tasted distinctly frozen pizza-y, by which I mean that it was equal parts bitter and bland, very unlike the sweet tomato sauce I’m accustomed to eating in actual pizzerias. Come on, DiGiorno!

Moving on to the “primo” pepperoni, I have no compliments, but no complaints either. It baked to a nice, crisp texture, and it tasted like your average pepp – savory and oily with a minor spicy afterkick.

DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza 2

But in spite of all this mediocrity, there exists one seriously redeeming factor: The crust. It was chewy yet crispy, pillowy yet flavorful. Just as the box says, you can taste the nuanced seasonings and the lushness of the olive oil drizzle. It would seem DiGiorno’s entire budget went into the dough and, really, that’s the smartest area of investment when it comes to pizza. Gourmet toppings don’t mean much when they’re served on a disc of tasteless, rubbery breading.

So has DiGiorno finally achieved mistakable-for-delivery status? Nah. But if you’re expecting something less ambitious, like a serviceable frozen pizza, then you’re less likely to walk away disappointed. Perhaps the other varieties (Supreme Speciale, Spinach & Mushroom, and Margherita) are a bit more convincing. Or maybe it just depends on the kind of delivery you’re used to.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/4 pizza – 310 calories, 130 from fat, 15 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 35 milligrams of cholesterol, 760 milligrams of sodium, 31 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 15 grams of protein.)

Item: DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza
Purchased Price: $7.19
Size: 17.2 oz.
Purchased at: Stop & Shop
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Awesome crust. Okay pepperoni. Serves its humble purpose.
Cons: Lackluster cheese and sauce. Still not pizzeria-quality. Box condescendingly advises you to enjoy “with fresh salad and great company.”

REVIEW: Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza

Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza

I loved sriracha before sriracha reached the consciousness of anyone beyond a noodle house. That iconic squeeze bottle with the green plastic nozzle and the rooster, strutting like those idiots who wear Ed Hardy t-shirts. I first broke my cherry with sriracha when I was an undergrad at the University of Florida scarfing down “fakeasian” food at Maui Teriyaki. I’m sorry, but I love me some good fakeasian as my uncle General Tso knows. Those smoky teriyaki chicken bowls drenched with sweetened soy sauce and careless ribbons of sriracha…oh how I still think of you fondly.

After law school, I rediscovered the sauce when I was shopping at my local Asian market for cans of earthy fried dace and jars of pickled radish. Less like rekindled love and closer to falling off the wagon, my obsession raced to unhealthy standards. I starting dousing everything from cottage cheese to steaming bowls of white rice with the deep reddish condiment.

So, of course, I was excited when rumblings of the Thai counterpart of Tabasco started making its way out of Asian kitchens and into things like mayonnaise or popcorn. However the danger of becoming popular is the inevitable dilution by lame and poorly conceived products like Lay’s sriracha-flavored potato chips that tasted more like cheese puffs. I once went to a “trendy” place where they placed dollops of sriracha into rosemary flecked mashed potatoes. Disgusting!

Yet, I have not given up and while a bit skeptical of Pizza Hut’s new pizza recipes, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t interested in the Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza. Most of the new pizzas have names that pretty much describe what the flavor is such as Buffalo State of Mind (buffalo wings) or the one I’m reviewing.

On the other hand, there are terribly named ones like Cock-A-Doodle Bacon or Pretzel Piggy. Neither alerts me to a creamy parmesan sauce and instead, they sound more characters from Japanese anime hentai. No, I don’t care how many tentacles you can stick in that orifice, hentai is weird.

And yeah, I’m sorry. I’m not going to actually pick up the phone and say, “I’d like one Cock-A-Doodle Bacon Pizza.” Never going to happen. I would rather read the list of ingredients and make the other person on the end say, “Oh…you want the Cock-A-Doodle Bacon Pizza?” “Cock-a-yes please.”

Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza 2

What intrigued me the most was the base sauce, honey sriracha instead of the dependable marinara sauce. The warmth of the pizza box that dropped in my lap felt better than a stripper with a “two hands size” butt. It smelled like an ordinary pizza and while I was entranced by the scent, it had me worried because I was wondering if it would taste like one as well.

Upon opening the warm box with the slightly damp tippy top lid, the smell of roasted jalapeño and melted cheese infiltrated the air. I popped open the box and I had to exclaim this was one of the prettiest pizzas I have ever seen. The deep red hues of the Peruvian cherry peppers just popped out of the pizza.

Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza 4

The honey sriracha glazed crust had that new tire shine, although it was off-putting to grab a sticky crust. It was also annoying because every time I grabbed a slice, it felt like I was grabbing a cinnamon bun.

On the first bite, I could taste the sweetness of the roasted peppers which complemented the sweeter pineapple chunks. The jalapeños were thankfully not the pickled kind or if they were, I didn’t taste it. The grilled chicken pieces, although large, were spongy in texture but imparted a smokiness. However, the sweet sriracha sauce lifted the pizza to another level.

Nowhere as intense as mango habanero wing sauce from Buffalo Wild Wings but it definitely packs more heat than a stick of Big Red cinnamon gum. The sauce was really nice. It was very much balanced and despite sriracha overload, this was a thoughtfully created pizza. Furthermore, the cheese just brought the entire pizza together like a satisfying science fiction film without the tentacle sex.

Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza 3

Essentially, the pizza is like a bolder version of the Hawaiian pizza. I would never say sriracha pizza, let alone from The Hut, is the best pizza in this multiverse but this is as close to a standing applause I can give to a chain pizza.

The sriracha has the characteristics of lingering heat with a slight sweet tang. I could make that out but it ain’t no Huy Fong Sriracha. I overlooked this because the pizza was put together so well.

Now some variances, I ordered mine with the pan crust because I felt a thicker crust would carry the honey sriracha glaze better. Also, mine didn’t come with the strange sweet honey sriracha drizzle and it appears you have to ask for it (or my neighborhood Pizza Hut person said). That’s fine, I don’t like soggy ass pizzas and would rather not overload the pizza with sweet syrupy gunk because the pizza was really tight in its flavors.

Another serendipitous moment, the pizza reheats well in the oven, so much so that my taste buds were tricked into thinking “we got ANOTHER pizza?! Hell YEAHHHH!” No dummy. It may be the base sauce, the toppings or the pan pizza crust. Damn, it may be all of the above. The pizza made me curious enough to try the rest of the “new recipe” line.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 slice (large pizza) – 320 calories, 100 calories from fat, 11 games of total fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 40 mg of cholesterol, 940 mg of sodium, 41 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugars and 15 grams of protein.)

Item: Pizza Hut Sweet Sriracha Dynamite Pizza
Purchased Price: $14.99
Size: 14 inches (large)
Purchased at: Pizza Hut
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: weet, spicy and smoky. Good heat from a pizza. If you like Hawaiian pizza, this is a good try. Sexy anime Cosplay.
Cons: Sticky crust. Spongy chicken. Sriracha overexposure. Tentacle sex.

REVIEW: Papa John’s Philly Cheesesteak Pizza

Papa John's Philly Cheesesteak Pizza

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year and Papa John’s is getting into the holiday spirit.” – Press release for Papa John’s new Philly Cheesesteak Pizza

“What the hell do Philly Cheesesteaks have to do with the holidays?” – Me

Yes, Papa John’s has decided that the best way to show their Christmas/Hanukkah/whateveryoucelebrate spirit is to offer a limited-time Philly Cheesesteak Pizza. Rejoice! Sound the trumpets!

Or, if you’re from Philadelphia, shake your fist angrily at yet another pizza bastardization of your beloved sandwich. At least, that’s what I imagine people from Philadelphia are doing. While they can’t seem to decide who offers the best cheesesteak within their own city, they can probably all agree that Philly Cheesesteak Pizza is bullshit.

Not that Papa John’s is the first offender in this regard, and I’m sure they won’t be the last. But they do seem especially fond of taking other foods and turning them into pizzas. The Fritos Chili Pizza had barely been released before the Philly Cheesesteak came along, and earlier this year they released a Double Cheeseburger Pizza.

Papa John’s describes their Philly Cheesesteak Pizza as “hand-tossed pizza crust layered with creamy garlic sauce, steak from the Original Philly Cheesesteak Company, fresh onions and green peppers, then covered with mozzarella and provolone cheese.”

Before you oo-la-la over the Original Philly Cheesesteak Company, know that they offer bulk steak that’s been fully cooked and blast-frozen, including a Value Pack, which is described as “The economical choice—marinated with Soy Protein for maximum value.” But hey – at least it’s actually from Philly, right?

Before I get to the bad, I’ll address the good parts of the Philly Cheesesteak Pizza. Don’t worry, it won’t take too long.

Papa John's Philly Cheesesteak Pizza Slice

The steak – sorry, the Original Philly Cheesesteak Company steak – was sliced thin and was tender; I didn’t have to wrestle with it like it was beef jerky. The onions and green peppers added a nice bit of crunch for contrast. There was plenty of gooey cheese topping the pizza.

Okay! Moving on. First off, the steak, which I would consider the most important part of the pizza, was practically tasteless. It wasn’t even salty. While the onions added a little bit of their flavor, the green peppers were tasteless, and I only knew they were on the pizza because of their color and crunch.

Papa John's Philly Cheesesteak Pizza Close-Up

The real food crime that took place here was the creamy garlic sauce. From the first bite onward, it overwhelmed the rest of the toppings. I love a good, garlicky white pie, but this sauce just made me sad. It tasted extremely over-processed and bitter.

In fact, it took me a bit to figure it out, but I was finally able to pinpoint that the most off part of it was that it had the taste of bile. I know that sounds gross and extreme, but that’s the most accurate way to describe it.

All of the toppings on Papa John’s Philly Cheesesteak Pizza were tasteless or unimpressive, but the worst offender by far was that creamy garlic sauce. It took this pizza from underwhelming to straight-up unappealing. Hell, if you’re going to use a processed sauce on a cheesesteak pizza, why not just use Cheez Whiz? To state that Cheez Whiz would have improved any pizza should let you know that you should pass up on this holiday offering. Bah humbug.

(Nutrition Facts – Nutrition Facts not available on website.)

Item: Papa John’s Philly Cheesesteak Pizza
Purchased Price: $12.00
Size: Small
Purchased at: Papa John’s
Rating: 1 out of 10
Pros: Onions and peppers add crunch. Angry fist-shaking. Steak is tender.
Cons: Steak is generally flavorless. Peppers are flavorless. Creamy garlic sauce tastes like bile. Wishing there was Cheez Whiz on my pizza. Creamy garlic sauce tastes like bile.

Scroll to Top