The first (and second and third) bite
Upon popping open the adorably compact rectangular box, the first thing that hit me was the smell, a steamy cross between cheesy tater tots, oil-slicked breadsticks, and those nachos that baseball stadiums serve in batting helmets. And bacon -- lots and lots of bacon. I'm not sure if they injected that whole mess with bacon smell or if it was the actual bits, but damn it smelled like breakfast -- a welcome surprise seeing as we were taste-testing these suckers at 10am on a Monday.
My colleagues and I dug in fingers-first and watched as the hot cheese pulled apart in long, photogenic strings. The first bite was dominated by the bacon, which was crisp and well-distributed, with just enough softness to blend in with the rest of the dish. And then came the Parmesan, the distinct crumbles adding a nutty edge to the whole ordeal.
Beneath the pleasantly congealed cheese -- I know "congealed" is a gross word, but, again, think baked mac & cheese here -- the pizza dough bite came across like budget gnocchi, not light and delicate but heavy, salty, and a little gummy. That's not to say this was a bad thing -- considering the bites' potential as an alcohol sponge, this aspect was not only to be expected, but appreciated in a gluttonous, masochistic way. Despite the fact that I repeatedly voiced my desire for some sort of cooling marinara or zesty ranch to dip these suckers into, I'm pretty certain I ate twice as many as everyone else, which may or may not speak to my previous night's activities.