At some point it dawned on Pizza Hut executives that sometimes people don’t want to eat pizza. Affixing foods people might want to eat more than pizza—say, hot dog bites—is not the most elegant solution.

After stints in several other countries, the Hot Dog Bites crust pizza from Pizza Hut finally landed on U.S. soil this week, making thick, meaty waves across the surface of the pie-eating populace. What sorcery is this? Is our long, national struggle with the choice between hot dogs and pizza finally over?

No, but only because this is never a thing we have struggled with. Despite sharing some similar ingredients (pig bits, cow bits, stuff), pizza and hot dogs are two snack segments so wildly different that they hardly ever overlap. One does not confuse a craving for the cheapest of sausages with a craving for all-in-one Italian-ish food.

That said, there is absolutely no reason to do this to food, even shitty food.


This picture does not depict something to eat. It’s something you gather a party against and battle in turn-based fashion.

The hot dog bites themselves are not to blame here. Wrapped in either normal crust (eh) or salted pizza crust (yes!) they are a treat, and the large tub of mustard included in the box is sure to come in handy whenever I want a condiment without enough calories to actually be considered a thing.


But the pizza part? Forget about it. I mean look at the picture above of an actual pizza I had delivered by my local store this afternoon. Go ahead and blow it up to max resolution. You know what this picture says to me? “We don’t give a damn about your pizza.”

The hand-tossed crust rendered somehow rubbery by the hot dog bite bonding process, the ends of the pieces were curling up at the sides like strange triangular insects succumbing to death.


The more I lo0k at it the more it looks like a gaping orifice—a once proud and pliant opening torn asunder by a couple dozen tiny sausages.

Once the bites—those oh so delicious bites—are done, all we are left with are shimmering wet tragedy triangles, the only enjoyment to be had from them the succulent slapping sound of them being dropped back into the box.


Were Pizza Hut to offer up boxes of mini hot dogs wrapped in dough—pretzel or otherwise—directly to my door, then that door would be a beacon of hope to delivery drivers everywhere, especially if my wife answers the door and tips $8 on a $15 order.

Alas, I cannot be party to the slaughtering of innocent pizza. There are other ways to get hot dogs wrapped in dough. Auntie Annie’s at the mall, making them myself, purchasing them in large bags from my local grocer’s freezer—all of these are sublime, singular snacking experiences that require no pizza sacrifice, no Pizza Hut pretense.


Snacktaku is Kotaku’s take on the wild and wonderful world of eating things, but not eating meals. Eating meals is for those with too much time on their hands.

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