Pizza Hut All You Can Eat
Thursday March 24, 2016·
Well, here we are. The last physical vestige of e-number ignorance and pre-pubescent hijinx involving food and crushes. The Marion dine-in Pizza Hut feels like a stone (plasterboard) fort ('hut') of years upon years of first dates, exceptional family birthdays, break-up dinners and throwing up in the toilets. The inside feels heavenly and hallowed and yet the fluorescent lights burn your eyeballs as if you've been in the womb for 30 years and popped out at the salad bar in front of the creamy pasta and cubed beetroot. I felt this all before thirty seconds had passed over the patterned carpet.
Before I tell you more, I haven't been here in about fifteen years. My eating companion comes here on a semi-regular basis (a couple times a year perhaps), and he's one of those 'on-trend' chefs about the place. The irony is strong, yet you can't help feel part of something much bigger than irony can forge. It's popular culture, nostalgia, modern history even. Here is a decent run down of the things we consumed, in no particular order.
The Sunkist is a bit pale, but on the other hand there is ice in a bowl that you can pick up and put in your drink with tongs. Post mix is good no matter what the brand or quality.
I had forgotten they had fries at Pizza Hut, and you have to get them straight out the oven (as opposed to everything else, which you have to get straight out the oven). They've got the characteristics of good fries, though there is something a little wrong. Maybe it was the light.
Do they make them a little breadier in the dine-in restaurant so you can't eat as many pieces and get your money's worth? It's a fair question. The pepperoni was good, the cheese pizza was good, basically everything is good on the pizza front. When I say 'good', you know what I mean.
Twirly pasta and bolognese sauce
'Fusili' as the amateurs like to call it. This was my most excited moment, and I regret only having one serve, though I plated it up with pepperoni pizza and fries and the colour co-ordination was very good. The sauce is delicious but the twirly pasta is always dry. But there is something in it that makes me want to sleep over and have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner until I wake up in heaven where I will feast on it for eternity.
The Salad Bar
Creamy pasta comes in three different styles. There is cubed beetroot and a soggy Greek salad. There is grated cheddar for your pasta and there are numerous 'other' salads which I didn't pay much attention to because creamy pasta salad.
The Dessert Bar: Soft serve with sauce and bits
This would probably be the most sought-after item of the Pizza Hut dine-in experience if we did a survey, and for good reason. There is something about working this beautiful machine on your own to make an ice-cream poo that you cover with everything that you need in a tiny wavy-edged bowl that isn't big enough for how much you need. It's an anthropological wonder and maybe I'll write a thesis on how it affects the human condition in my 'next degree'.
The Dessert Bar: cubed jelly
Of another planet and is most likely made out of anything other than jelly. I'm not sure if they change the colour on a regular basis but it was blue, disturbingly see-through and very good combined with the soft serve.
The Dessert Bar: chocolate mousse
Foul to the point of nausea.
The place was busy and the crowd was a mixture of families after soccer training, mid-week old friend catch-ups and young punk hang-outs. I felt emotional and at the same time grateful to be part of the historical culture of this forsaken, wonderful place. For $21.95 each and a bit of your good health, it's a slice of plastic, delicious heaven in which you can forget about any anxieties you might have at the time. To me, that's worth more than any amount of twirly pasta and soft-serve I could eat. There are sixteen of these restaurants left in Australia and only one in South Australia, I suggest you have a night here before a part of history is bulldozed into oblivion.