I’m pretty hungover right now, so seeing this pizza cake is like looking at salvation. But also, I fear it. Could I handle that much pizza? Could my colon, a day later? Would the joy on one end be worth the trauma on the other? (Yes, it always is). It’s a pizza, stacked on top of a dozen other pizzas. It’s funny how genius always seems so simple after the fact. This gluttonous, beautiful nightmare is part lasagna, part layer cake, total all-American goodness. This is the kind of ingenuity that keeps the US of A at the front of the pack. Other countries can’t feed their citizens. We shove our food on top of other food and make super foods, because we can. It’s only a matter of time before Pizza Hut replicates this and shoves it down the breathing hole of every highway stop town residing, stained t-shirt wearing American citizen.
But enough of my celebratory musings, here is the beast in all its frightening glory, baked by a loving girlfriend at the request of her boyfriend, for his birthday. It seems like one of those requests that was said jokingly, but secretly the boyfriend actually wanted it, and the joke was just a way of throwing it out there…like anal, or seeing other people.
Pizza cake is what I want to receive in bed every Sunday morning.
You can find the recipe here.