The Hawaiian pizza sounds like the result of a love story that happened in the 19th century between an Italian explorer and a Hawaiian princess who couldn’t be together due to her family’s disapproval, but before heading out to sea to return to his home country, the Italian explorer showed his love for her and how he would remember her forever by baking a pizza that combined Italian ingredients (cheese, sauce, and ham) with a local Hawaiian ingredient (pineapples) for their last meal together.

But, alas, that’s not how the Hawaiian pizza was invented. Instead, it was created in 1962 by a couple of canucks in Ontario.

It may be called the Hawaiian pizza, but, to be honest, most Hawaii residents don’t order it even though it’s offered by the major pizza chains and a few local restaurants. I guess we find the idea of having pineapples on pizza as disgusting as most of the country. I know it might be disappointing to hear that people from Hawaii don’t like the Hawaiian pizza, but you can just included that on your list of things you didn’t know about Hawaii…and here’s more.

No one lives in grass huts. The state motto is Ua Mau ke Ea o ka ʻĀina i ka Pono, which means, “The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness.” The Victoria’s Secret store in Hawaii doesn’t sell coconut bras. It does snow in Hawaii. Hawaii residents don’t drink Mai Tais. The beach water in Waikiki is warm because of all the tourist kids who pee in it.

Okay, that last one isn’t true.

But, as for most Hawaii residents not eating Hawaiian pizzas, that’s true. Although, I did eat the California Pizza Kitchen Hawaiian Recipe personal pizza for this review. Also, there were a couple of times at a Pizza Hut buffet that I had to eat their Hawaiian pizza because they were all out of the others.

The California Pizza Kitchen Hawaiian Recipe personal pizza is made up of a crispy thin crust, tomato sauce, reduced fat mozzarella cheese, hickory smoked ham, and, of course, pineapple.

The packaging looks like a mini version of their larger frozen pizzas, which is probably a cheerful upgrade from the old packinging for these personal CPK pizzas when they were called “California Pizza Kitchen Pizza For One.” The older boxes had emblazoned on the front, in a large font, “For One,” which I imagine was depressing for some single people, and for others, a way to let people know they were available.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve had Hawaiian pizza in the past. However, I should mention that I don’t find them utterly disgusting. I just think they’re a little weird because of the use of pineapples, but overall they’re decent tasting. With that said, I thought the flavor of the California Pizza Kitchen Hawaiian Recipe personal pizza was disappointing for a Hawaiian pizza. While the pineapples are definitely noticeable, even though I didn’t have many chunks on the pizza I bought, the other ingredients fell flat. The sauce and cheese were bland, and the ham didn’t provide much flavor to compliment the pineapples. But the crust did end up crispy, thanks to the included cooking tray.

Yay! Cooking tray!

If for some strange reason you really like Hawaiian pizzas, I’d stay away from the California Pizza Kitchen Hawaiian Recipe Frozen Personal Pizza because you’ll probably be disappointed. But if you’re single, putting it in your shopping basket will let everyone know you’re available.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pizza – 370 calories, 110 calories from fat, 13 grams of fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 25 milligrams of cholesterol, 720 milligrams of sodium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 7 grams of sugar, 19 grams of protein, 10% vitamin A, 30% calcium, 8% vitamin C, and 8% iron.)

Item: California Pizza Kitchen Hawaiian Recipe Frozen Personal Pizza
Price: $3.99
Size: 6.2 ounces
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Noticeable pineapple flavor. Crust was crispy. Good source of calcium. Good way to let people know you’re available.
Cons: Trans fat. Bland cheese and sauce. Ham lacked any flavor. Not a lot of pineapple chunks. Ending up in a particularly warm section of water at a beach. Bad way to let people know you’re lonely. Hawaiian pizza not the result of forbidden love. Wearing a coconut bra.

The year is 1999. I have somehow managed to secure a computer and Internet access, despite the fact that I am living in my parents’ house, which is a museum of antiquities ranging from cassette tape players to avocado-green kitchen appliances. I have a Hotmail account with an incredibly dorky handle.

I check my email and am overwhelmed with quizzes sent by my friends, demanding information about my likes and dislikes. What is your favorite animal? (Unicorn!) What is your favorite movie? (The Crow! Shut up, I was like, 17.) When was your first kiss? (LIE LIE LIE LIE) What is your favorite food?

…

Paralyzed with indecision, I stare at the blinking cursor. How do I choose? I must pick something, because if I don’t complete this quiz and send it to five of my friends, I will be cursed with bad luck. For seven years. Those are going to be my most formative years! College! Binge drinking – legally! Actually getting that first kiss! There is way too much riding on this quiz. I have to choose something.

I usually went with something pedestrian, like steak, or spaghetti. Thankfully, my palate has actually grown less refined over the years, and I don’t categorize food I like as “favorites.” These days, I recognize the foods I like as “shit I am powerless against.” For instance, if I see a sandwich on a restaurant’s menu that includes au jus, that is what I am ordering. If there’s a pasta that uses pesto as its sauce, put down the menu, I’m ready to order. Salsa con queso? Move out of the way, I’m holding a chip that has a date with cheesy destiny.

This same compulsion also applies to spinach and artichoke dip. If you are dining with me at an establishment that offers this dip as an appetizer, you can kiss your desire to share a plate of potato skins goodbye. We are getting that dip, and I will reach across the table and cut you if you put up one word of protest. I’ll buy it frozen, I’ll buy it jarred, I’ll pretend I’m pregnant and have an insane craving for T.G.I. Friday’s shitty food in order to get at it.

I have a problem.

So when I saw California Pizza Kitchen’s Limited Edition Crispy Thin Crust Spinach & Artichoke pizza in the frozen food aisle, it was a no-brainer. Okay, so it’s not a dip, but it’s still spinach and artichoke getting sexy together, and that’s enough to send me knocking Jazzies over in order to get to it. The front of the pizza box describes it as “crispy thin pizza topped with spinach, diced artichokes, garlic, crème fraiche sauce, mozzarella, parmesan, asiago and romano cheeses.” So it really is just like they glopped some dip onto a thin pizza crust! My excitement is palpable. My excitement had to wait a little, as the oven had to pre-heat at 425 degrees, which actually takes longer than cooking the pizza, which only takes 10 – 12 minutes, which is pretty standard for a frozen thin-crust pizza.

I liked what I saw when I took the pizza out of the oven. The distribution of toppings was even and plentiful, both which are things I look for in a frozen pizza. The aroma was distinctly garlic, with a hint of cheese and spinach. The crust was, indeed, crispy, and I love that the toppings go right up to the outer edge. I honestly couldn’t tell you that all of the cheeses described on the front of the box are present; I am not, unfortunately, a cheese aficionado. However, you can see the parmesan sprinkled on top, and whatever cheeses are mixed up in there form a delicious, gooey, satisfying taste. I also can’t distinctly say that I detected crème fraiche as the sauce, but the sauce was perfect for a good white pizza. The garlic really made its presence known, but didn’t knock you over the head with it, which is what I’ve experienced previously with CPK’s Garlic Chicken pizza.

On this pizza, the garlic played really nice with all the other flavors. The spinach was flavorful and blended wonderfully with the cheese. My one complaint would be the artichokes – while they were plentiful, I would have liked to have seen more chunks and less thin little slivers. Because of their thinness, or perhaps because of the freezing process, the artichoke flavor virtually disappeared. Every once in a while I’d bite into one of the bigger chunks and get a burst of juicy artichoke, but for the most part the slivers add nothing to the table.

Overall, I thought this was a very successful white pizza experience. All the cheeses and the crème fraiche sauce gave it a much more sophisticated taste than your average frozen pizza, the spinach made its presence known, and the garlic tied all the flavors together nicely. The only thing missing was bigger, more flavorful artichoke pieces.

Will I give up spinach and artichoke dip forever and kneel at the alter of California Pizza Kitchen’s Limited Edition Crispy Thin Crust Spinach & Artichoke pizza? Of course not. First of all, while it’s a pretty good pizza, there’s no substitute for dipping a toasty wedge of buttered garlic bread into a warm tub of gooey goodness. Stealing the biggest piece of artichoke for yourself is the best part! Second, CPK frozen pizzas ain’t cheap – at $7.69 a pop, I could probably grab two frozen T.G.I. Friday’s Spinach Cheese & Artichoke dips, and then I wouldn’t have to lie about being pregnant all the time! I think my husband is starting to catch on to me.

That said, if you’re a fan of thin-crust white pizzas and the convenience of frozen food, I would recommend you try this pizza at least once. After all, it won’t be around forever.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/3 pizza – 330 calories, 150 calories from fat, 16 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 25 milligrams of cholesterol, 520 milligrams of sodium, 33 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of fiber, 2 grams of sugar, 14 grams of protein, 15% vitamin A, 0% vitamin C, 25% calcium and 6% iron.)

Item: Limited Edition California Pizza Kitchen Spinach & Artichoke Pizza
Price: $5.49 (on sale; regular price $7.69)
Size: 1 pizza
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Flavors of toppings compliment each other well. Unicorns. Cheese blend tastes more sophisticated than on other frozen pizzas. Toppings were plentiful and evenly distributed. Finally getting that first kiss.
Cons: Not enough larger chunks of artichoke. Being a slave to certain foods. Expensive for a convenience food. Internet quizzes. T.G.I. Friday’s.

The cheeseburger pizza isn’t new to me.

It actually used to frighten me as a wee lad whenever I would see the words “cheeseburger pizza” scheduled on the elementary and intermediate school lunch calendar twice a month. For most kids my age, the word “pizza” equated to something that was a treat, but for me it was terror and confusion.

It didn’t look or taste like a pizza, nor did it look or taste like a cheeseburger. I would either pick at it like a bird, or trade it for some syrup-covered prunes. I later came to the conclusion that it was a way for the cafeteria workers to get rid of soon-to-expire ingredients, like ground beef and cheese.

Sure, when I was in seventh grade, some bonehead blasted me, shoulder first, into my chest while playing flag football, making it hard for me to breathe for five minutes; in sixth grade, I got kicked in the balls really hard while playing soccer; in fifth grade, I pooped in my pants before I made it to the restroom; in fourth grade, the prettiest girl in my grade told me I smelled really bad; in third grade, my classmate seated next to me threw up on me; in second grade, I pooped in my pants before I made it to the restroom; in first grade, I was called “nerd” for the very first time because I started wearing glasses; and in kindergarden, I cried so hard while I had my head down while being punished that my tears created a puddle on the table that ran off the edge and created a waterfall of tears, but none of these grade school memories haunt me more than those cafeteria cheeseburger pizzas.

Thankfully, California Pizza Kitchen changed my opinion of what a cheesburger pizza is when I had their much tastier version in one of their restaurants. And now I can continue to rehabilitate and rid myself of those grade school cheeseburger pizza memories at home with the frozen Limited Edition California Pizza Kitchen Cheeseburger Pizza.

The frozen pizza is made up of a crispy thin pizza crust topped with seasoned hamburger, a blend of cheeses, diced tomatoes, caramelized onions and CPK’s signature sauce. According to one of my Twitter followers, who works at CPK, it’s supposed to taste like an In-N-Out cheeseburger, but I think it tastes more like a Big Mac with a little mustard flavor.

The restaurant and frozen versions taste almost exactly alike. The only major differences are the layer of shredded lettuce that’s added on top of the restaurant’s version of the pizza and the use of a huge wood fire oven.

According to the box, there’s three servings, which is kind of irritating because I don’t like having to bust out the protractor I haven’t used since high school to figure out how big a slice should be and I’m an Asian who sucks at math. Of course, I can cut it into fourths, but doing so would force me to use more math as I try to figure out how much trans fat is in one slice.

But wait, if I cut it into sixths, then two pieces will equal a third.

Oh, I guess I am good at math. The stereotype still lives.

The Limited Edition California Pizza Kitchen Cheeseburger Pizza is one tasty frozen pizza and is my favorite CPK frozen pizza variety, so far. If you’ve ordered one in the restaurant and enjoyed it, this frozen version will help you remember it, while at home, for about half the price.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/3 pizza – 350 calories, 19 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 30 milligrams of cholesterol, 770 milligrams of sodium, 34 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 4 grams of sugar, 13 grams of protein, 6% vitamin A, 20% calcium and 6% iron.)

Item: Limited Edition California Pizza Kitchen Cheeseburger Pizza
Price: $5.99 (on sale)
Size: 14.1 ounces
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tastes like a Big Mac. Tastes like the version available at CPK restaurants. Crispy crust. No lines about I Can Haz Cheeseburger. Asians are good at math.
Cons: Contains trans fat. Limited edition. Good source of saturated fat and sodium. Trying to cut a pizza into even thirds. Cheeseburger pizza in grade school. Pooping in my pants in the fifth and second grades.