My hubby and I were seriously despairing over a lack of good pizza in NZ. Not even great, just decent pizza. Not these cardboard thingies pretending to be pizza. Then an FB friend posted a rave review about this place; her description was so vivid and just simply mouth-watering I was beginning to think they'd put dope in her pizza. I was determined to find this place. And we did. It was literally in the middle of nowhere. The joint is so nondescript, so unassuming and so tiny. But I didn't go there for the ambience. So we ordered something that had everything on it except the kitchen sink. Even the name sounded massive: The Godfather. This fast- talking chick ( only later did I find out her name is, well, Chick) made our pizza and boy can she make pizza as fast as she can talk. She was loud, too. Add to the blasting music and u can almost pretend you're not in some suburban nowhereland but in the Big Apple.
Then came the pizza... and I was right. They must've put dope in it because it was simply THAT good. I can't really write much about it because I'd probably wouldn't be able to describe it anyway. But I can tell you this much: I will regret this review because I'm selfish and I like keeping amazing stuff for myself. But, hey, it's Christmas and this is my good deed for the year. Despair not, my fellow pizza-philes. Your salvation lies yonder in Onehunga, or thereabouts.
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