In year 12 my French teacher order pizza that was bursting with toppings, spices, herbs and flavour. The inspiration was broad and the taste varied. The Hawaiian was an art-form, a door into a world of palatally pleasing products. I don’t know if the pizza was from Topolino’s. I thought it was, and so a couple of years later I entered and ordered. A cataclysmic shock. The pizza was terrible. A travesty.
Because I stuff myself at Archies whenever I go to Fitzroy St. I was pulled back to Topolino’s. No longer suffering under the burden of unattainable perfection, Topolino’s was ok. The pastas were fresh and tasted as good as pasta at pizza houses generally does. Slowly, Topolino’s emerged from the quagmire. One seedy evening, as the Fitzroy St. crowd hummed along, I entered Topolino’s with renewed energy. Once again I was there to eat, not merely to be disappointed.
This state proved fruitful, as some of the combinations presented on the menu were incredibly appealing. The Bologna pizza was topped with Spaghetti Bolognese. It is a filling masterpiece. Other great pizzas are the meat lovers, the chicken pizza and the Hawaiian. The pastas are enormous, so order a main with care.
One family pizza could send two piggish eaters into a coma.
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