Evidence of My Worst Dining Habit

See the above picture of the slice of Pizza? It has done nothing to me, aside providing sustenance to me, as well as about 20-30 minutes of dining pleasure. It is not a bad piece of pizza. In fact, it’s quite good, although not exceptional.

And yet? I still must criticize. For this is who I am.

Can you guess what made me go “Hmmmm.”?

Let me give you a clue – the pizza was had at a West Seattle Haunt known as Talarico’s, I place I frequent somewhat often, for I enjoy their food.

The slice in question can be found on their menu.

The Venetian

House made Talarico’s meatballs, roasted red bell peppers, provolone cheese, basil, mozarella & Marinara.

Can you see the issue yet? No? Okay, let me lay it out on the table.

It’s the damnable name of the thing. The Venetian? Really? This pizza is supposed to represent Venice? This is what they’re going with?

Setting aside the fact, that provolone cheese is a southern Italian cheese, not one from the North, let alone from the region of Veneto, what struck me was the use of meatballs. For while Venice is known for many things, its trade in beef and pork is hampered by the fact that there are no cows or pigs wildly roaming upon their many back alleys and piazzas. If you’re going to call something “Venetian”, you might want to start with the basic premise that seafood would be the primary means of protein, seeing that its a city surrounded entirely by effin’ water.

Sigh.

Yup. I choose to criticize the name of the dish. This is the sort of crap you’ll have to put up with if you ever have dinner with me. I am that person. Let me apologize beforehand.