A declaration of love for what is probably the greatest capital offence in Italian food culture
Opinions are divided on them. It is frowned upon in Italy, Iceland wanted to ban it completely and the Aussies love it. You either like them or you don't. I adore them. An ode to Hawaiian pizza.
A wafer-thin yeast dough on which creamy mozzarella melts into a magical symphony with the sweet and sour tomato sauce. A few slices of extra-fine ham, a pinch of strong pepper and two or three leaves of fresh basil complete this culinary masterpiece. An unrivalled treat for the palate. Wait, isn't there something else missing? That's right, the crowning glory: pineapple chunks.
Okay, now I'm hungry. Here we go again...
Back to the future
But: First work, then pleasure. Once upon a time, a very long time ago, when the gods ruled the world. Oops, I don't have to look that far back. Because the legendary body of Christ was created in Italy... haha, you wish, wouldn't you? No, we actually owe this gustatory feat to a Greek who had the idea of sprinkling pineapple slices on the circular delicacy in Canada in 1962.
Short recap: Pizza Hawaii = Greece, Canada and Hawaii or the USA. But not Italy? Ma dai, tu sei un pazzo!
Sotirios "Sam" Panopoulos, a god-like heroic figure, laid the foundation for my favourite dish back then. A date that would change my life forever. The speciality of Sam's "Satellite" restaurants was the combination of sweet and savoury dishes. The Mediterranean flatbread from the south was not to be spared from this either.
Of course, why not? Combining something that is so simple and delicious with an ingredient that also tastes damn good can only be a success. I heard that enough during my business studies: Synergies, synergies, synergies. "What?", my seat neighbour asked me back then. "Something Greek," I replied. The Holy Grail of corporate mergers, the mythical "1 + 1 = 3" equation - celebrated in its purest form, through Hawaiian pizza.
Someone else may say that I would never be able to use the university material in real life. #4everastudent
Last year, I suddenly slipped into an emotional low. A stroke of fate out of the blue gnawed at me: Sam Panopoulos passed away unexpectedly on 8 June 2017. The exact cause of death is still unknown. I strongly suspect that the mafia had a hand in it. How else can you explain the concrete block in the shape of a pineapple slice on Panopoulos' feet?
Italia, Italia
Speaking of organised crime: What must feel like a stab in the Italian heart makes my mouth water at least three times a day. I'm beaming like a little kid at Christmas looking forward to his presents.
My Italian-born girlfriend from Ticino, on the other hand, has tears rolling down her cheeks every time I crave a delicious pizza with forbidden toppings hours before our candlelight dinner. When she witnessed my first gourmet faux pas, she postulated, completely agitated: "If we're in Ticino and you order a Hawaii: basta, finito - capisci?"
Two hearts in one breast. One beats only for her, the other for pizza with pineapple. Both are sweet as sugar and super tasty. An almost inhumanly agitating conflict that I find myself confronted with. The first world problem par excellence. But so far I've been able to resist the temptation. Also (and above all) because I'm afraid of being arrested if I ask about this no-go in a proper ristorante in the south. So I stand firm and continue to resist my urges. But for how much longer?
Even at work, I am now plagued by doubts. Or rather, Don Luca and Don Roberto, who regularly give me hell if I even think about ordering a Hawaiian pizza at lunchtime.
And yet I will continue to indulge in this delicacy. Not because I can, but because I can't help it. Right, Dominik?
It's not easy, believe me. Because, between you and me, let me tell you something: clichés or not, the pizzas in Locarno, Ascona or Lugano simply taste better than those in Wiedikon, Oerlikon or Altstetten. And pizzerias in cities like Napoli, Rome or Venice catapult the whole thing into other spheres anyway: Even if it's going to be tight in football this year, you've got the world championship title for the best pizza for sure, cari amici.
Like a boss
But it could be worse, because the only controversy is the first name of the baked pastry. Iceland's president, my arch-enemy with the melodious name Guðni Thorlacius Jóhannesson, told an assembled school class in February 2017 that he would prefer to have Hawaiian pizza banned by law. (That's why I postponed my trip to Iceland until this year.) However, the Viking coward - fearing attacks from the brutal pineapple dealers from the north - quickly backtracked and relativised: "I like pineapple. Just not on my pizza".
Justin Trudeau, Prime Minister of Canada, was not left unscathed either. He responded immediately with a patriotic tweet that gave like-minded people new courage. He likes pizza, he likes pineapple and he stands by the Ontario delicacy. You're the man, Justin!
Gordon Ramsay, Scottish celebrity chef, eight-time European and twelve-time world champion and three-time Olympic swearing champion, describes Pizza Hawaii as a "mistake". Well, with all those bad words on your tongue, a few taste buds are bound to go astray, dear Mr Ramsay. And anyway, why should I even listen to a Brit when it comes to good food?
This is haggis. It's a pudding. Made from sheep's heart. With sheep's liver. And sheep's lung. No wonder no one has ever seen the Loch Ness Monster. If I were him, I'd stay under water while eating it. Well then, en Guete!
Please excuse me, I need a few minutes to compose myself before the grand finale. Merci tuusig.
A slice of paradise
Well then, here we go.
The sun is shining, the palm trees are swaying in the balmy summer breeze, the kilometre-long sandy beaches are white, the gentle sounds of a melodic ukulele accompany an almost surreal image of my idea of paradise on earth. Tanned models strut up and down the beach barefoot in skimpy bikinis, visibly impressing the well-trained surfers with their courtship. The women and men in raffia skirts only know frost, cold and ice from hearsay. Or in their drinks.
If there is a heaven, this place must be its waiting room. Too good to be true: Hawaii.
I wander away from my screen and sink into my thoughts. I can see myself sitting on the beach, an open coconut in my hand and just letting my mind wander. I've made it, I'm happy with myself and my life. Everything is almost perfect.
But only almost. Because that certain something is missing for perfect bliss. A memory of this magical place that I will always carry with me.
A piece of heaven.
A piece of heaven, so to speak. Or, loosely translated: a slice of Hawaiian pizza.
When I'm not stuffing my face with sweets, you'll catch me running around in the gym hall. I’m a passionate floorball player and coach. On rainy days, I tinker with my homebuilt PCs, robots or other gadgets. Music is always my trusted companion. I also enjoy tackling hilly terrain on my road bike and criss-crossing the country on my cross-country skis.