Over the weekend I had the thickest, meatiest pizza of my life. Delicious, but I don’t know if I could do it again.
After babysitting a not-quite-one-year-old and an energetic 4-year-old, the proud fathers bought us all pizza. The two brothers-in-law spent the weekend moving items into storage while the women-folk went to the States for a weekend of shopping (and some time off from parenting—something we all need every so often).
Naturally, Skyla, the infant, didn’t indulge with us, not having teeth and all. Sophie, a spunky hand-full-of-a-blond-sweetheart managed to down a single corner piece. Mostly.
Both brothers-in-law are originally from Saskatchewan (Sheldon still lives there and drove in just to help his sister and her partner, Keane, do some heavy lifting). There is a pizza place that originated in Saskatoon in 1990 called Vern’s Pizza. It is the home of the 10-pound Mama Mia pizza, and it’s pretty much all meat.
Sheldon, living in Esterhazy, SK, isn’t within delivery-range of a Vern’s. And while there is a Winnipeg location on McPhillips, Keane doesn’t frequent it. First of all, you need half an army to eat one of these suckers, and second—it’s a little on the pricey side, at least for those of us who are accustomed to dialling a string of 2s for cheap, mediocre pizza.
But now that the boys were together, plus me, my hubby, and little Sophie, they couldn’t not order this feast fit for 5,000.
Coming in at around $50 for a 15-inch pizza, it arrived in a regular box. It looked slim, normal. These boys promised me that it was as thick as a cheeseburger, but it didn’t look so big to me.
Then Ryan, my hubby, picked it up. His jaw dropped and he immediately passed it along to me. Holy smack, that sucker is heavy! (No, not like disgustingly heavy, I can’t carry it because I’m weak heavy, but heavy for a pizza.) The 18-inch Mama Mia is the 10-pounder, but this little guy sure packs some punch.
So we began to dig in to the pie cut into squares.
First piece. An end piece. Holy meat, batman, that’s all I can taste.
Second piece. A corner piece. Lots of crust—hey, I’m a girl, I like carbs! But still, way too much meat!
Now I’m satisfied. I’m never satisfied after 2 squares of Pizza Hotline. Never.
But Sheldon described it earlier: it’s so thick and meaty that most people only need a single piece (not slice—they don’t slice the Mama Mia, they square it). Eat two, and you’re super full, almost uncomfortably full. Eat three and you’re going to want to throw up. It’s just too much meat. (Remember that season of the Amazing Race where they had to eat 5lbs of meat? You’d be sick like that, only you’re not going to get $1million for doing it—although you do this often enough and you’ll be forking out a million to pay for the surgeries and health bills to be that obese.)
But like I said, after two pieces, I was just satisfied. I wasn’t uncomfortably full. Now, every diet and health book I’ve ever read says to stop eating when you’re satisfied. Too full, and you’re destroying your efforts. But I’ve got to know—what happens when you down three pieces?
So I do it. I’m surrounded by big boys, I’m a big girl—I’ve got something to prove here!
Third piece, another corner piece. And I actually felt fine. Not sick, not gross like throwing up, just really full.
And as I waited, pleased with my accomplishment, Sheldon and Keane decided to tell me that the rule of three only counts for inside pieces (or 2 inside and 1 crust piece)—corner pieces are just scraps for the dogs and kids. I ate two corner pieces, that doesn’t mean anything.
As they are describing all of this, the meat is beginning to settle. And I’m feeling really gross. My stomach is hurting. A lot. I think I might even throw up.
(I do, of course, but I wait until I get home a little while later. I would just feel awkward throwing up in someone else’s bathroom. Don’t ask me why, I’m just weird like that.)
So it’s true—three pieces of Vern’s Mama Mia Pizza and you might just throw up. But man, if you’re into meat, I tell you, you’ve got to try it at least once. Just to say you’ve eaten the meatiest pizza of all time.
And survived.
(I wonder if Vern’s sells T-shirts that say that?)
After babysitting a not-quite-one-year-old and an energetic 4-year-old, the proud fathers bought us all pizza. The two brothers-in-law spent the weekend moving items into storage while the women-folk went to the States for a weekend of shopping (and some time off from parenting—something we all need every so often).
Naturally, Skyla, the infant, didn’t indulge with us, not having teeth and all. Sophie, a spunky hand-full-of-a-blond-sweetheart managed to down a single corner piece. Mostly.
Both brothers-in-law are originally from Saskatchewan (Sheldon still lives there and drove in just to help his sister and her partner, Keane, do some heavy lifting). There is a pizza place that originated in Saskatoon in 1990 called Vern’s Pizza. It is the home of the 10-pound Mama Mia pizza, and it’s pretty much all meat.
Sheldon, living in Esterhazy, SK, isn’t within delivery-range of a Vern’s. And while there is a Winnipeg location on McPhillips, Keane doesn’t frequent it. First of all, you need half an army to eat one of these suckers, and second—it’s a little on the pricey side, at least for those of us who are accustomed to dialling a string of 2s for cheap, mediocre pizza.
But now that the boys were together, plus me, my hubby, and little Sophie, they couldn’t not order this feast fit for 5,000.
Coming in at around $50 for a 15-inch pizza, it arrived in a regular box. It looked slim, normal. These boys promised me that it was as thick as a cheeseburger, but it didn’t look so big to me.
Then Ryan, my hubby, picked it up. His jaw dropped and he immediately passed it along to me. Holy smack, that sucker is heavy! (No, not like disgustingly heavy, I can’t carry it because I’m weak heavy, but heavy for a pizza.) The 18-inch Mama Mia is the 10-pounder, but this little guy sure packs some punch.
So we began to dig in to the pie cut into squares.
First piece. An end piece. Holy meat, batman, that’s all I can taste.
Second piece. A corner piece. Lots of crust—hey, I’m a girl, I like carbs! But still, way too much meat!
Now I’m satisfied. I’m never satisfied after 2 squares of Pizza Hotline. Never.
But Sheldon described it earlier: it’s so thick and meaty that most people only need a single piece (not slice—they don’t slice the Mama Mia, they square it). Eat two, and you’re super full, almost uncomfortably full. Eat three and you’re going to want to throw up. It’s just too much meat. (Remember that season of the Amazing Race where they had to eat 5lbs of meat? You’d be sick like that, only you’re not going to get $1million for doing it—although you do this often enough and you’ll be forking out a million to pay for the surgeries and health bills to be that obese.)
But like I said, after two pieces, I was just satisfied. I wasn’t uncomfortably full. Now, every diet and health book I’ve ever read says to stop eating when you’re satisfied. Too full, and you’re destroying your efforts. But I’ve got to know—what happens when you down three pieces?
So I do it. I’m surrounded by big boys, I’m a big girl—I’ve got something to prove here!
Third piece, another corner piece. And I actually felt fine. Not sick, not gross like throwing up, just really full.
And as I waited, pleased with my accomplishment, Sheldon and Keane decided to tell me that the rule of three only counts for inside pieces (or 2 inside and 1 crust piece)—corner pieces are just scraps for the dogs and kids. I ate two corner pieces, that doesn’t mean anything.
As they are describing all of this, the meat is beginning to settle. And I’m feeling really gross. My stomach is hurting. A lot. I think I might even throw up.
(I do, of course, but I wait until I get home a little while later. I would just feel awkward throwing up in someone else’s bathroom. Don’t ask me why, I’m just weird like that.)
So it’s true—three pieces of Vern’s Mama Mia Pizza and you might just throw up. But man, if you’re into meat, I tell you, you’ve got to try it at least once. Just to say you’ve eaten the meatiest pizza of all time.
And survived.
(I wonder if Vern’s sells T-shirts that say that?)
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