IN 2018, Icelandic President Gudni Johannesson proposed a ban on putting pineapples on pizza. This matter was brought to the attention of Johannesson during an engagement in a high school where one student asked for the president’s thoughts on the matter. His response was that he would legislate against the addition of pineapples on flatbreads if he could.
The public reaction was mixed, and Johanesson quickly withdrew his statement after a wave of backlash. People protested the president’s statement over social media in support of the topping while calling attention to worse alternatives. Johansseon’s debacle serves as living proof of how the humble “Hawaiian” pizza is among the most divisive discussions in the culinary world.
Such is the case in my family. My brother thinks it’s sacrilege, but I am an ardent believer in Hawaiian pizza.
I believe that the addition of pineapples adds a layer of complexity to nearly any kind of pizza. It illuminates the plate with a neon tinge, balances umami with tang, and refreshes you with every bite. However, it seems that flavor is not for everyone. It muddles the taste of the cheese or is out of place among savory ingredients, or so some would say. My brother and I would have similar arguments when ordering pizza. It always ended the same way—with compromise.
I will stand my ground and say that Hawaiian is indeed a good option for pizza, but I will also concede that it isn’t for everyone. People may have different persuasions depending on their upbringing, while others may have grown out of it. Some such as myself didn’t think much of the flavor at first, but have since acquired a taste for it. These differences allow for greater discourse and debate—but at the end of the day, a decision must be made. Which flavor of pizza will we order?
Some restaurants and chains are gracious enough to offer different flavors on one pizza. In those cases, choosing toppings is easy. Everyone gets what they want. However, this is not the reality we face on most days. Most of the time, we can only get one flavor.
Even after the choice of toppings is sorted out, the size of the pizza is still up for debate. Sometimes it is a matter of cost; other times, of practicality. My brother and I would ask for a larger size than our parents would so we have something to munch on later that night. My parents, meanwhile, consider such a frivolous expense—after all, why pay for something I won’t finish immediately? When that happens, we not only negotiate among the family but also with ourselves. What am I willing to compromise to make everyone else happy?
In the end, everyone adjusts and we almost never pick our first choices. We always arrive at the flavor that no one will complain too much about but no one will ever be completely satisfied with either. We also choose the size that will minimize waste and leave enough slices for later. Strategic decisions like that may not always leave the best taste in your mouth, but they will get you full nonetheless. And so, begrudgingly, we order the food.
Ultimately, the decision of which pizza to get is in the hands of the person ordering it. If that person is you, then you need to pull the trigger at some point. As you’re about to order, some thoughts may race through your head: Am I choosing what will benefit everyone? Can I actually change the order by myself if I wanted to? Should I? Can I still convince someone to take my side? How much am I compromising by allowing for something so radically different from what I really want?
Will I lose myself if I make this call?
I don’t know the answers to these questions, and I won’t waste any more time or energy thinking about them. After all, it’s just pizza. I can always have another one next week.
However, I just might save those same thoughts for the national elections next year.
Derick M. Gabrillo (3 BS MEC) is a Beyond Loyola staffer of The GUIDON. You may contact him at john.gabrillo@obf.ateneo.edu.
