I Survived This Mozzarella Poppers Pizza

Reader, I did.

On a Sunday afternoon after a late night on the town, my boyfriend and I decided to follow our devilish instincts and order the Mozz Pop pizza. We opted for extra cheese and jalapeños. I figured, if we’d boarded the express train to heartburn city, we might as well ensure our autopsies show that some vegetal… something… was consumed. Forty-five minutes and three-fourths of an episode of Succession later, the glorious primo/il secondo hybrid arrived at my doorstep. My immediate thought was that the box weighed more than any pizza box I’ve ever been handed in my life. My second was a sense of relief when I realized they included two customary marinara dipping sauces for each of us to dunk our mozz sticks.

I began by removing a single mozzarella popper. It lifted from its concave crust womb with ease—clearly, it was baked with the rest of the pizza after being squished into soft dough instead of being attached to it. I almost felt guilty for ripping it from its individual indentation in order to destroy it. Guilt was replaced with disappointment after I took a bite to find no cheese pull. It was as if each mozzarella square was encased in ice and presented to me in its panko prison to ensure absolutely no movement. The bite itself was thick and delightful—nutty, fruity, and sweet, like the fake mozzarella di bufala campana I frequently pick up at the dollar store. I assume they’re using the good stuff at a place that claims “no one out-pizzas the hut.”

The pizza sauce was surprisingly peppery—a wonderful way to cut through the creamy cheese—if not understated. The jalapeño was an unnecessary addition, but gave a delightful bite to, well, every bite. Salt, fat, acid and heat were well represented, and I assume that is all anyone could hope for from a dinner food. At least, that is what I have learned from this blog.

About five minutes into the meal, I began to feel nothing, and then heaviness—there was too much cheese, but my refined plate clocked it as possessing an umami flavor—that, or there was so much dairy I was beginning to choke on it. Either way, what a way to go out, you know? Coronavirus is going to come for us anyway.

If I were to give Pizza Hut’s Mozzarella Poppers Pizza a rating, it would be seven out of ten napkins—and ten out of ten naps—because that’s what is required to consume three slices. I aspire to one day get so hungover again I can convince a friend to order this with me once more.