I was doing a little shopping around Union Square with my friends Mr. Dogz and Emma when the fierce pangs of hunger began to set in. "Let's get pizza" someone suggested. "It's cheap." Our lunch debate concluded before it began and we began our search of what, in New York, is a ridiculously easy culinary quarry. Little did we know how easy it would be when, twenty feet later, we turned the corner to find... the Pizza Truck.



Yes, the Pizza Truck. A truck with an oven. Pies are literally tossed and baked fresh right there on this rolling premises. You, ladies and gentlemen, are able to get fresh, cheesy, gooey goodness right there on the sidewalk with barely a pause to your day. No, wait. Strike that. The pizza's terrible. You ladies and gentlemen will have to to take that pause after all. How bad is "terrible"? To put it bluntly, it was probably the worst pizza I have ever had within Gotham's limits... and I'm including the stuff I make at home using my toaster oven, an English muffin, and some Polly-O.



Emma and I ordered plain ol' Cheese Slices. Simple enough, but shouldn't a "cheese" slice have a bit more cheese? I mean. this was pizza for the lactose intolerant. Mr. Dogz took a look at the options and chose a Sicilian Slice because it had a bit more of the gooey stuff. We paid ($2.50 per shitty slice) and walked into the park to sit and eat. "This is gross." was Emma's simple summation. "Did they use spaghetti sauce?" Yes, they did, in fact, use spaghetti sauce (with little bits of parsley in it and everything...) instead of proper pizza sauce. On top of it all, they failed to cook the pizza enough to fully melt the cheese. I guess the silver lining here is that my mouth didn't get scalded. The crust wasn't too bad.



I won't make the mistake of ordering at the Pizza Truck again and can't in good conscience recommend it to anyone but the most desperate among us.