Impressions: The New Domino's

"Sweet Moses, what did I eat?"

As my neighbors and I gathered two Sundays ago to watch the infuriating series finale of ABC's Lost (which proved once and for all that not only have the writers been flying by the seat of their pants since Season 1, but that they've been making it up as they went along from episode to episode), we put into action a plan long in the making:

We would finally try the newly revamped Domino's.

You lose.

As previously reported, Domino's recently gave their "pizza" an overhaul from the bottom up, redesigning their crust, devising a new sauce recipe, and using real cheese instead of, well, whatever godforsaken substance was on their pizzas before.

I was never a fan of the old Domino's. To me they were always the absolute bottom of the barrel when it came to chain pizza, far, far below Pizza Hut, Papa John's, Round Table...all of 'em. So the idea of a Domino's pizza that didn't taste like the original was one I could certainly back. That is, until I tried it.

Somehow--I don't know how they did it--but somehow they managed to create a product that is even worse than the garbage they were originally shilling, a pizza so unfathomably awful that it defies the rational mind and enters Caligula-like levels of sadism.

There it is. Waiting to consume your soul.

Let's start with the Pepperoni and Olive pizza, the memory of which makes me queasy to this day. As soon as I opened the box I knew something was off. Something smelled...fishy. Literally fishy, as in fish. After my first bite, I realized what it was: the olives. Now, I don't know what these olives had been sitting in, how they were processed and packaged, or what they tasted like off the tree, but these were, bar none, the worst I had ever eaten. I suppose I shouldn't pluralize it: I had one of these nasty little black rings and immediately spat it back out, then proceeded to pick off the rest from my slice. It tasted like a cross between an anchovy and bile, and that's no exaggeration.

The egregious "olives." Like tiny portals to Hell.

I don't have enough experience with the old Domino's to tell you if the cheese and sauce were much different than their previous iterations, but I will say that they were forgettable. I didn't taste any red pepper flakes in the sauce, and the cheese was rubbery, as expected. The crust, on the other hand...now that was obviously a new concoction.

Just look at the grease on this thing. Bring a sponge.

My memory of the old Domino's crust consists of a single word: cardboard. The new Domino's crust can be described with just two more: salty, garlicky cardboard. The crust is basted with some kind of garlic butter and sprinkled with herbs that leave your fingertips greasy and smelly. It is a sodium explosion.

As a kid (or an adult, hey, no one's judging here), did you ever eat a bag of pretzels, then upend the empty bag so that all the salt poured into your mouth? Remember how much your tongue hurt afterward? Well, that was my mouth's reaction to just a few bites of this crust. Pain. Eating pizza shouldn't be painful. Domino's says otherwise.

So much grease it's spilling into the box.

I won't mention the Hawaiian except to say it too boasted eminently forgettable toppings on a salt-and-garlic-infused disc. We'd be back to 49 states if the actual Hawaiians caught wind of this atrocity.

Anyone up for some Ultimate Frisbee?

Never in my life would I have guessed Domino's could actually make their pizza worse, but they have succeeded admirably. A half hour after eating just two slices left me feeling as though I had swallowed a brick that was now snugly lodged somewhere in my large intestine. I implore you, from the bottom of my heart, never to order this abomination Domino's deigns to call pizza, for I would not wish it upon my worst enemy. If you're jonesing for some fake pizza, buy some Lil' Caesar's, Pizza Hut, Godfather's, even frozen pizza, anything but this. Their pizza boxes should come with giant green Mr. Yuk stickers on them.

You have been warned.