I recently had the “pleasure” of visiting Roland’s in the Strip. This is face, the face I’m making at that pizza, is usually the last thing any pizza sees before meeting its maker. It’s the “I’m going to eat this whole pizza in one sitting” face.

The pizza of Roland’s must have sensed that doom was following it out of the oven and deployed a self-defense mechanism: awfulness. Thanks to some miserable sauce, soggy cheese, and a floppy crust this pizza fought me away. Like a wolf biting a porcupine, I had to turn tail and flee from my prey.

The only edible portion of this pizza were certain spots of the crust. I carefully tore off the crust like I was opening up a valuable envelope. A pull in the wrong direction and I’d have spoiled my dinner with some of that candy sweet sauce and flat as paper cheese.

This pizza made me crave texture. It flopped down my throat like I was swallowing a dead fish whole. Which is too bad because it looks nice. The roasted red peppers are spread throughout and the cheese covers the dough like a blanket on a freshly made bed. But looks can be deceiving. 

I’d stick to the fish at Roland’s.