How much unadulterated joy can eight pounds of mostly solid matter bring to man? If said matter…read morehappens to be in the form of a Tiny's Taco Pizza, quite a lot. In fact, if you are lucky enough to have experienced the thrill of digestion of even a portion of one of these pies, odds are that, like me, you wouldn't be able to summon a recollection superlative enough to do it justice.
Perhaps this mnemonic conundrum arises as a result of the tender love with which this heavenly foodstuff is prepared, or it may be due to the weighty (heavier than your average pair of month old twins) apportioning of mexican-style toppings (available in your choice of 1; cheese, lettuce, tomato, salsa, black olives, seasoned ground beef, sour cream and jalapenos, or 2: something inherently inferior to choice one), or, (and if you can follow the clauses of this sentence, congratulations) it may be due to the sheer heft of uncontrollably consumed Taco Pizza sitting on the nerve that connects your stomach to your brain.
In short, if there is in fact a God, and he does in fact order take out, and he does not, by presumption, have nasty smelling farts but rather well fragranced ones which draw smiling people from afar, he calls Tiny's every Thursday or so for a sampling of crusted nirvana.
Seriously. This is good stuff.
But like most good stuff it comes with some caveat emptor that should not be ignored : The Tiny's Taco Pizza is both exemplary and coveted, but the premises of Tiny's Tacos and Pizzeria itself is not for everyone. Unless you're willing to forego its enjoyment, and risk using this exemplem of epicurean mastery as an ordinary 'blunt object' or 'defensive strategem' (and such reduction in stature is unadvisable for such a fine victual), this critic recommends the sometimes punctual and often effective (although some lesser adjectives may apply) home-delivery service, and the enjoyment of your inevitable post-meal immobility where it's most convenient. on your couch.