The 3 best (and 3 worst) things about Palermo’s Biscuits & Gravy pizza
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Anyone who ran out to ironically eat a KFC Famous Bowl after seeing Patton Oswalt’s brilliant bit on the absurdity of the menu item should not be ashamed for not-ironically enjoying it. Like Oswalt said, it’s undignified, but like many have realized, it’s also convenient and delicious. And it could very well have been the catalyst for Biscuits & Gravy pizza, a frozen treat from Milwaukee-based Palermo’s that substitutes a crust and sauce for a big biscuit (sort of) and gravy, all covered in sausage, bacon, and cheese. This abomination—that resides in the frozen breakfast food section but promises it’s “Great Anytime!”—initially smacks of desperation and laziness, and there are a number of drawbacks to this product. But after the first bite, all of the little things about it that make it repulsive quickly float away, leaving only the salty, intense flavor. After finally working up the courage to eat it, The A.V. Club has come up with the three best and three worst things about Palermo’s Biscuits & Gravy pizza.
It’s bad because: It’s a salty beast.
The RDA (recommended daily allowance) generously allows an average 2,000-calorie day to bring along its buddy, upwards of 2,400 milligrams of tasty sodium. Of course, just about any frozen pizza will obliterate that allowance, especially for dummies who eat the whole thing. Yet somehow, the biscuits and gravy pizza just tastes saltier, so much so that the skin in your face begins to tighten after the third slice.
It’s good because: It comes with gravy.
For a food that’s synonymous with the good life, it’s safe to say that most people don’t get enough gravy in their lives. Tomato sauce has never meant anything like that to anyone. What’s kind of train did you want to be on? The Nets go 0-82 and Jay-Z looks at you like this shit what? That’s right, gravy. So any food, including this pizza, that works to put more gravy in our tummies is automatically the best.
It’s bad because: It doesn’t really have biscuits.
It’s not against the law to deploy a rising crust to stand in as a biscuit crust approximation, but it fucking should be. The reason Arsenio Hall’s Reverend Brown in Coming To America described a woman as looking good enough to sop up with a biscuit is because biscuits really will sop stuff up. A rising crust just glops together with the gravy to form a mild adhesive.
It’s good because: The sausage tastes like breakfast sausage.
Palermo’s bills this pizza as suitable for any time of day, but it belongs to the morning, a time of day sorely lacking many pizzas to call its own besides cold leftovers. The sure sign that this is a morning ’za: The sausage has the distinct spiciness of breakfast links or patties. Don’t serve this pizza at a Saturday night poker game; serve it at a “Sunday morning hungover friends sleeping on your couch” event.
It’s bad because: Society will scorn you for eating it.
Like the Internet and dental hygiene before it, there will be people for whom biscuits and gravy pizza is just too advanced to grasp. Those same people will be the ones who make jest of your love for the pizza. Don’t listen to them. They don’t understand.
It’s good because: It’s a visceral experience.
Ask the brain what it thinks of eating biscuits and gravy pizza, and the intelligent answer is likely. Something along the lines of, “Don’t you care about your body? No. Absolutely do not eat this thing.” But ask the heart and soul, and they will tell you that moments like these remind you that you’re alive. Eating this pizza is the equivalent of driving 120 mph in your car or jumping off the roof into a snow bank: incredibly stupid but amazingly fun.