The Pizza Locust

Well, I don’t think I’ve ever actually reviewed Domino’s Pizza before, for a variety of good reasons. Being a take-out/delivery only pace, Domino’s falls under the category of places that you can’t give a fair review of – pizza is never as good as it should be when it’s been shuttled around in a car before you eat it. However, I have reviewed a few take-out only places, on the idea that it is their own fault they don’t offer a dining-in option.

And, for another reason – is it really necessary? Domino’s and Pizza Hut dominate the pizza market in the US in the same way that McDonald’s and Burger Kind dominate the fast food hamburger business. Who can say they’ve never eaten at all these places already?

Domino’s has done something that has earned them this mini-review – they’ve gone and changed their pizza from the ground up. Allegedly.

But first, let’s go over my “history” of eating at Domino’s Pizza.

Years ago, when I was in high school in Tucson, we’d eat Domino’s pizza a couple times a month, perhaps. There were other options, but Domino’s was really the only place that delivered – without charging you an arm and a leg extra – and that’s why we ate it. It was an acceptable pizza and quite convenient. Isn’t that what delivery pizza is all about? It’s not about being great pizza, it’s just about being convenient and edible. Domino’s filled that niche beautifully.

When I was at ASU, I ate a lot of pizza. I ate nearly one and a half pizzas a day. Yes. Only many occasions, I ate two whole pizzas a day. Firstly, during college I was an avid bicyclist but that’s not very conducive to going out and picking up pizza. Second, I was in computer engineering and fit the stereotype – I frequently worked at my computer, modemed into ASU until 2 or 3 in the morning.

Pizza delivery is an enormously friendly to bicycling-riding, late-night computer nerds. Many of them – nay, most of the delivered pizzas came from Domino’s. Their delivery people knew me by name. Actually, in those days, before caller id-based phone order systems, they knew my voice on the phone when I’d call.

I’ve eaten a staggering number of Domino’s Pizzas.

Of course, it didn’t just stop when I got out of college, although the numbers have decreased dramatically since then, and they positively plummeted when my local Domino’s near 19th and Indian School about 18 years ago. (Back then, they were located a block or so away from their current location.)

Why did they plummet? Partially because Phoenix started getting better pizza places and partially because Domino’s seemingly changed their pizza. It was never cooked the same, it was too soft, the flavor wasn’t right and I just didn’t like it as much. In short: it just didn’t taste like the hundreds of Domino’s pizzas I’d had before.

I gone many years since then eating perhaps one pizza at Domino’s per year, always from this one particular location. Then, a couple years ago, at someone else’s house, they ordered Dominos pizza. Imagine my shock when it tasted like the Domino’s pizza of old! After a bit more research I came to the conclusion that Domino’s hadn’t changed their pizza. It’s the the 19th and Indian School location that makes their pizzas wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! They are the Domino’s of shame and they just happen to be nearest to me, My luck.

A few weeks back I linked to a press release from Domino’s that announced their complete makeover of the classic Domino’s pizza. Supposedly, it’s not just a re-working, but a new pizza from the ground up. It reminded me of the New Coke fiasco. When a company has to redesign it’s core product, they perceive they have a problem and they’re apparently too blind to see changing will just make it worse. Food is not an automobile. You won’t sell more new pizzas to happy buyers of the old pizza because you got rid of the product they liked. That’s just a big, flying middle finger to your loyal customers.

Not generally a good business practice if you actually have a solid customer base.

Enough commentary, here’s the real question: How is the new pizza?

We started with a couple pizzas from the 19th and Indian School location. There were four of us testing the pizza, none of us liked the changes; however, most agreed that the changes were minor and barely detectable. Most notably, dusting the f*ing crust with a sh*tload of garlic powder does not constitute an improvement. If we wanted fippin’ garlic bread sticks, we’d have gone to Olive Garden. The crust was very soft, with very fine pours (That’s not a good thing) but this is very common for this particular Domino’s location – which is part of what’s wrong with it. More on that later.

The toppings were the same, the cheese tasted no different, the sauce… we were hard-pressed to detect “red pepper kick.” Certainly, if we hadn’t been aware in advance, no one would have suspected it.

In short, it was much to do about nothing. It was well within the range of the not-very-good pizzas we normally get at this particular Domino’s. My hope had been that, with a total revamp of the pizza, this particular store would mend their ways. Either they didn’t, or Domino’s has drifted their pizza towards the screw-ups that already come from that location.

That leads me to a problem – how do I know if the new pizza is just “meh” because it comes from an aberrant location, or “meh” because that’s what Domino’s new pizza is? Answer: Try more locations.

So on the next day, for lunch, I tried the downtown Central Domino’s. I used to eat there at lunch when I worked nearby, and they used to produce a “standard” Domino’s pizza. They’re also enormously busy at lunch time.

When I picked up my pizza, there was a bit of drama. I asked pizza (names have been changed to protect the innocent), “Hello, I’m here to pick up a pizza. The name is ‘Pizza Locust’.”

Now, I knew (supposedly) that my pizza was done because of Domino’s cool online pizza tracker – now recently enhanced to work on iPhones. I was, in fact, sitting in the parking lot, waiting for the pizza to be “boxed and ready” for pick-up. When it showed up as done on the tracker, I got out of the car and stepped into the store to get my pizza. It should have been ready – but apparently it wasn’t.

First, the guy searched the two dozen or so finished pizzas awaiting delivery or pick-up and couldn’t find mine. He went back to the prep area where the manager (I think) was frantically making and boxing pizzas like a demon. He poked around the boxes for a while and then brightly chirped up, “Was the first name ‘Robert’?”

“No, ‘Pizza’”, says I (Remember, names have been changed, but I can promised, you’d never confuse my name for Robert, and although my last name isn’t as rare as ‘Locust’ it’s not common either. I couldn’t imagine that they had two people with my last name on the same day, let alone the same time.)

He rummages around some more, meanwhile his manager is shouting at him, “I need a 10″ box!” which he ignores. He goes to the printer that has a dozen or more labels spewing out of it, waiting to be placed on boxes. He looks through them, starting with the newest first.

“Is it ‘Peter’?”

“No, Pizza. Pizza Locust.”

He keeps looking. Right at the top, he finds my label. “Here it is! Oh, I’m sorry, it’s going to be another 15 minutes before your pizza’s done.”

As I’m about to point out that their bloody pizza tracker says my pizza is boxed and ready, the manager shouts out one more time, “I need a 10″ box! Is his pizza a 10″ salami pizza?”

“Yes!” I shout back, deciding to cut out the middle man.

“Then get me a 10″ box! His pizza is right here!”

The pizza is boxed and handed to me (having been prepaid online) and off I go.

I’ll break linear time here for a moment to follow-up with the purchase experience before I comment on the pizza. Later that evening I receive a call from Domino’s on Central. We exchange the usual pleasantries of “How are you?” to which the woman from Domino’s replies, “I’m doing a lot better now that I was earlier today.” Personally, I didn’t actually care, but it does tip me off into believing I was speaking to the same woman who was making the pizzas.

She asks me an odd question, “Did you ever get your pizza today?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Did you pay for it or was it free?”

“I paid for it.”

“OK, thank you,” and she hangs up, leaving me to ponder the question, “‘Free’ was an option?”

Back to the pizza.

It wasn’t the same as what we’d had the night before.

The crust was still dusted with a ridiculous and distracting amount of garlic powder – Domino’s needs to fix that right away – but at least it was course, with much larger air pockets and with a crispy bottom. Still not different enough that I wouldn’t think it was an original Domino’s crust.

The cheese and toppings were identical; however, in this instance I could taste a slight difference in the sauce. The taste of red pepper was, marginally, there, but it’s very insignificant. Again, had I not been forewarned, I still might not have noticed the different sauce.

Obviously, side by side you can easily tell the difference just but the saturation of garlic powder and perhaps the hint of red pepper. Otherwise, I hope they didn’t waste too much money developing this “new pizza” because it’s insignificantly different. Perhaps that’s the only way they could hope to not alienating their existing customers.

A change that is no change is no change.