I understand the allure of fusion restaurants. I'll even admit to trying barbecue and Asian flavors together at home -- in a leftovers-and-pantry cleaning homage to Guy Fieri's Tex Wasabi's Rock-n-Roll Sushi-BBQ chain.
But the madness has to stop today. In the course of my sifting through the tripe of the foodieverse, I encountered the BBQ Mac n' Cheese Pizza. Once we go and add a third cuisine to a single dish, we've gone well past the realm of fusion and officially entered the arena of regret.
This is a lesson I've carried with me for well over a decade, ever since I first sampled the French taco grinder. This was one of the regulars in the rotation at my university cafeteria. It was a hoagie or grinder roll filled with ground beef that had been sprinkled with taco seasoning and then sauced like a Sloppy Joe. You could also just think of it as a sadness sandwich.
The same principle applies when you go to a sundae
bar or Foo's Fabulous Custard. Left to our devices when it comes to ice
cream, we have all made the egregious mistake of adding too many
mix-ins. Only by undermixing can you sometimes discover that less is
more.
In a world where we have access to more kinds of ingredients and
spices, we need to stop and say we're not going to make the food
equivalent of a suicide soda. Using that restraint, we might just discover the next great fusion idea.
Or maybe not. When you take away the barbecue chicken from a macaroni and cheese pizza, you end up with this.
[Image via Average Betty]
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The "tripe of the foodieverse"? Jonathan Bender you are a judgmental food snob. My BBQ Chicken Mac n' Cheese Pizza is not fusion cuisine. It is fun, different and surprisingly delicious. It is homemade with fresh, whole ingredients. From my perspective, the only "arena of regret" is dissing me and my unique pizza.
Trio has (or had) a mac 'n cheese pizza. Their mac 'n cheese is about the best and their pizzas are terrific, but together... not so much.
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