A reader writes:
Besides
Americans. Besides the obvious name, look at the website. It's a bunch of goony guys in pinstripe suits, and the "order online" link features a computer button that says "Do It!", which I'm sure is meant to evoke an intimidating grunt from a mafia thug. I'm not Italian, and I don't normally get all bent out of shape every time a stereotype appears in the media. I'm as big a South Park fan as you are. But this marketing gimmick is especially, er, cheesy, and it looks like a relic of how Americans (especially those outside cities with large immigrant populations) viewed Italians 40 years ago, when "The Godfather" first came out, as opposed to the way most people view them today: as American as anybody else ("Jersey Shore" notwithstanding).
Another notes:
As Politico’s site acknowledges, the closest Godfather's location is two hours away, so the pizza they tried certainly couldn’t have been fresh. Hard to see how the comparison in that taste test was fair.
Another also defends the pizza chain:
I must disagree with Politico's assessment. Godfather's cinnamon struesel dessert pizza is meth without the possibility of explosions (but still bad teeth). Moreover, this snark on Cain's pizza chain plays into the snooty liberal opposition. Liberals who whine about his pizza tasting bad come off like they want broccoli and brussel sprouts on their sauceless, seven-grain crust gourmet nonsense. Godfather's is cheap, goes good with beer or soda (an underrated feature of pizza), and boasts a killer buffet.
Another reminiscences:
It was the pizza of my childhood. I remember Christmas commercials with a mafioso dressed as Santa, singing a version of "Deck the halls" that included the line "18 inches wide, A POUND OF CHEESE". It's the pizza we ordered first thing when my older brother came home from college. It was my first cold pizza. And as a cold pizza, it was glorious. It was a thick-crust pizza with a dark, sweet sauce and tons of cheese. I'd keep my fingers crossed that we'd order too much so there'd be some in the fridge the next morning. The cheese would solidify into a kind of brick, encasing the sweetness inside. The pepperoni was just think enough that it would crinkle and brown around the edges.
So you East Coasters can slander our modest Midwestern pizza if it makes you feel better. You won't have old Herman Cain and his stink-pizza to kick around much longer.
The Dish 