Forget pineapple, these pizza topping crimes are especially heinous
The tropical fruit evokes thousands of anguished 'mamma mias', but other ingredients deserve closer attention from the Italian food police.
Do you have strong opinions about pineapple on pizza? Do you believe that getting mad about Italian food is a substitute for an actual personality?
Fanatical traditionalism over Italian food is a modern trope. Self-appointed 'carbonaranieri' (Italian food police) constantly attack minor variations in any dish of Italian origin, and through doing so, hope to resurrect the glory of the Roman Empire.
To the carbonaranieri, one ingredient is hated more than any other: pineapple.
Italian explorer Christopher Columbus brought pineapples to Europe at the same time as tomatoes, but while one fruit is considered a cornerstone of Italian food, the inclusion of the other anywhere in the cuisine will be met with a thousand anguished 'mamma mias'.
If you have decided that opposing pineapple on pizza is your religion, consider coleslaw on top of a curried ham and banana pizza proof that God is vengeful, and that He has forsaken you.
In fact, pineapple on pizza is a heartwarming story of multicultural success. It was created in 1962 by Sam Panopoulos, a Greek migrant to Canada who applied flavours from Chinese sweet and sour pork to Italian pizza and named it 'Hawaiian' after an American brand of tinned fruit. It was a huge success, and now graces the menus of pizzerias worldwide.
Adam Liaw's all-in pizza dough (pictured above)
To the carbonaranieri, however, the very existence of Hawaiian pizza is a grave insult to the Italian people.
Slavish devotion to authenticity is something I struggle to understand. Cuisines change constantly over time; you can't just pick a single moment and call it authentic.
I have Chinese heritage, and Chinese cuisine has always welcomed adaptation.
If you want to deep-fry ice-cream and call it Chinese food, we're all good with that. Beef and broccoli? Broccoli wasn't grown in China until the 1980s but it sounds pretty good all the same. We literally invented oranges (look it up), but we don't try to gatekeep how you eat them.
I'm not sure why pineapple evokes such strong condemnation from Italian traditionalists, but there are arguably far more heinous pizza crimes out there. Here are a few that deserve closer attention from the carbonaranieri.
Coleslaw
Scandinavia is a world leader in the consumption of two things – coffee and frozen pizza – and the way it consumes both of them would make the average Italian weep.
Sweden's Africana is topped with ham, banana, curry powder and peanuts, but that's not even the worst of it. Scandinavians love putting cold stuff on pizzas. Swedes top their pizzas with pizzasallad, a kind of chilled coleslaw. Norwegians like their pizzas with a cold garlic and sour cream sauce.
If you have at any point decided that opposing pineapple on pizza is your religion, consider coleslaw on top of a curried ham and banana pizza proof that God is vengeful, and that He has forsaken you.
Everything Japan does to pizza
While the carbonaranieri was distracted by pineapple on pizza and cream in carbonara, on the eastern front, Japan gained territory in a relentless war to absolutely humiliate Italian food.
Its most popular pizza toppings include mayonnaise, corn, tinned tuna and fish sperm. I'm not even kidding. Currently, in Japan you can order an entire pizza topped just with pickles and camembert sauce.
French fries and hot dogs
'Pizza con patatine' and 'pizza ai wurstel e patatine' might sound molto Italiano, but what you are actually getting is pizza topped with French fries, and potentially also hot dog wieners.
A favourite among Italian children, these home-grown adaptations might be abominations to traditionalists, but they are entirely Italian creations. Sometimes the call is coming from inside the house.
America invented both Super Mario Brothers and stuffed pizza crusts.
Pizza Hut's first stuffed-crust pizza was marketed in a campaign featuring Donald Trump, and just yesterday, NASDAQ listed chain Papa John's announced the world's first ever 'croissant pizza' to a conspicuous lack of global outrage.
There are dozens of extremely weird US state-based pizza variations that vary from deep pastry cases filled with cheese and sausage in Chicago and burnt wafers in New Haven, to pretentious Californian varieties with toppings like 'Thai chicken', caviar, and smoked salmon.
In comparison to one guy in Canada deciding, correctly, that pineapple on a pizza might be nice, the list of American pizza crimes would seem both longer and far more monstrous.
Dessert pizzas
The thought process for dessert pizzas is pretty much just substituting savoury ingredients for sweet ones of roughly the same shape or texture. Nutella instead of pizza sauce. Banana instead of pepperoni. It's a question of doing what can be done, rather than what should be done.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Advertiser
7 hours ago
- The Advertiser
Cheat sheet: the five stages of strewth
There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth. There are few words in the Australian vernacular that carry as much emotional range as "strewth". It's not just a word; it's a reaction, a philosophy, and for many, a coping mechanism. Whether you've stubbed your toe, spotted a funnel-web in your gumboot, or just found out the schooners are now $10, "strewth" is there for you, like a warm Bunnings snag on a cold Saturday morning. The word itself comes from a clipped version of 'God's truth', a centuries-old oath carried over from Britain, softened by time and Aussie inflection until it became less a solemn vow and more a casual exhale of disbelief. Like grief, "strewth" follows a pattern. A uniquely Australian one. And while Elisabeth Kubler-Ross gave us the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I reckon it's time we formally recognised the five stages of strewth. Because, let's be honest: in modern Australia, we say "strewth" a lot more than we say "I'm deeply in denial about this life-changing event". So here it is. The definitive guide to the five stages of strewth. Consider this your emotional cheat sheet for surviving everyday Australia. This is your entry-level strewth. Delivered with a slightly raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head. A low-stakes surprise, often encountered when something's a bit off, but not yet catastrophic. "Strewth... that kookaburra just nicked me snag off the barbie." It's part curiosity, part admiration. You're not angry. You're just trying to process how reality took a left turn without indicating. Something has escalated. The vowel gets longer. Your voice rises in pitch. This stage is usually triggered by events that interrupt comfort, like discovering the servo's out of iced coffee or that the NBN's dropped out mid-Origin. "Strewwwth! The bottle-o shuts in five!" You're not panicking yet, but you've moved beyond mild puzzlement into urgent recalibration of your evening. This is it. Peak strewth. The head jerks back. Eyebrows vanish into your hat brim. The arms may flail. Sometimes accompanied by a step backward and a profanity. "STREWTH! He just drove straight through the roundabout like it wasn't even there!" This is the moment when adrenaline takes the wheel. A spontaneous reaction to something outrageous, dangerous, or just very, very Australian. The tone flattens. You've seen too much. You've been here before. You're not even surprised anymore, you're just tired. "Strewth, mate... another election ad already?" This is the sigh that follows a decade of power bills rising and public transport timetables being "optimised." It's the shrug of a man watching a magpie attack his windscreen wipers for the third day running. You're not okay, but you're functioning. This is the final stage. You don't even say the word anymore. Your eyes say it for you. The silence is louder than shouting. Often seen in Bunnings car parks or after particularly bad parking jobs. Notices two pelicans fighting over a kebab while a council worker referees. Nods slowly. You've evolved beyond speech. You've gone full Buddha on the barbie. It's not that you're numb, it's that you've finally accepted the full, absurd glory of life in this sunburnt country. In a world increasingly full of jargon, trigger warnings, and carefully curated expressions of emotion, "strewth" remains refreshingly unsanitised. It's raw. It's real. It's as much at home in the bush as it is on Beaumont Street on a Friday night. Sure, it might not appear in HR-approved corporate emails, but it captures something deeper than a KPI ever could. "Strewth" is our way of saying: I'm here. I'm witnessing this. I cannot believe what I've just seen, but I will soldier on, probably in thongs, probably holding a half-melted Drumstick. So the next time life hits you sideways with a kangaroo in the drive-thru or a tradie in a tuxedo, don't fight it. Don't overthink it. Just look to the horizon, take a breath, and let it out: Strewth.
West Australian
21 hours ago
- West Australian
At least 26 dead as migrant boat capsizes off Italy: UN
A boat carrying nearly 100 migrants has capsized in international waters off the Italian island of Lampedusa, killing at least 26 people and leaving another dozen missing, the Italian coast guard and the United Nations refugee agency say. Sixty survivors have been brought to a centre in Lampedusa, UNHCR spokesman Filippo Ungaro said. According to survivor accounts, there were 92 to 97 migrants on board when the boat departed Libya. Authorities were still searching for any remaining survivors. The coast guard said in a statement that the death toll stood at 26, but was still 'provisional and being updated'. Based on survivor accounts, about 95 migrants left Libya on two boats, International Organisation for Migration spokesperson Flavio Di Giacomo said. When one of the two vessels started to take on water, all the passengers were transferred to the other boat — made of fibreglass — which then capsized because of overloading, he said. It was not immediately known how long the migrants had been at sea. Lampedusa mayor Filippo Mannino said that the shipwreck happened 'presumably at dawn'. So far this year, 675 migrants have died making the perilous central Mediterranean crossing, not counting the latest sinking, according to the UN refugee agency. 'Deep anguish over yet another shipwreck off the coast of Lampedusa, where UNHCR is now assisting the survivors,' Ungaro said on X. In the first six months of 2025, 30,060 refugees and migrants arrived in Italy by sea, a 16 per cent increase compared to the same period last year, according to the UNHCR. The migration route from northern Africa to southern Europe is considered one of the most dangerous in the world, with almost 24,500 people dying or disappearing on the Mediterranean crossing in the past decade, according to the IOM. Most of the deaths have been attributed to small boats setting off from the coasts of Tunisia and Libya. The deadliest shipwreck off the coast of Lampedusa occurred on October 3, 2013 when a boat carrying over 500 migrants from Eritrea, Somalia and Ghana caught fire and capsized, killing at least 368 people. The tragedy prompted international calls for action to address the crisis.
Perth Now
21 hours ago
- Perth Now
At least 26 dead as migrant boat capsizes off Italy: UN
A boat carrying nearly 100 migrants has capsized in international waters off the Italian island of Lampedusa, killing at least 26 people and leaving another dozen missing, the Italian coast guard and the United Nations refugee agency say. Sixty survivors have been brought to a centre in Lampedusa, UNHCR spokesman Filippo Ungaro said. According to survivor accounts, there were 92 to 97 migrants on board when the boat departed Libya. Authorities were still searching for any remaining survivors. The coast guard said in a statement that the death toll stood at 26, but was still 'provisional and being updated'. Based on survivor accounts, about 95 migrants left Libya on two boats, International Organisation for Migration spokesperson Flavio Di Giacomo said. When one of the two vessels started to take on water, all the passengers were transferred to the other boat — made of fibreglass — which then capsized because of overloading, he said. It was not immediately known how long the migrants had been at sea. Lampedusa mayor Filippo Mannino said that the shipwreck happened 'presumably at dawn'. So far this year, 675 migrants have died making the perilous central Mediterranean crossing, not counting the latest sinking, according to the UN refugee agency. 'Deep anguish over yet another shipwreck off the coast of Lampedusa, where UNHCR is now assisting the survivors,' Ungaro said on X. In the first six months of 2025, 30,060 refugees and migrants arrived in Italy by sea, a 16 per cent increase compared to the same period last year, according to the UNHCR. The migration route from northern Africa to southern Europe is considered one of the most dangerous in the world, with almost 24,500 people dying or disappearing on the Mediterranean crossing in the past decade, according to the IOM. Most of the deaths have been attributed to small boats setting off from the coasts of Tunisia and Libya. The deadliest shipwreck off the coast of Lampedusa occurred on October 3, 2013 when a boat carrying over 500 migrants from Eritrea, Somalia and Ghana caught fire and capsized, killing at least 368 people. The tragedy prompted international calls for action to address the crisis.
