YANQUI DE MIERDA GO HOME! VOLVETE AL PAIS DE LOS OBESOS MORBIDOS.
That was the all-caps-lock love letter I received a few years ago after mentioning I wasn’t fond of Argentine pizza. Note to self: if you fuck with Argies and their pizza, they take it personally and may threaten your life.
Sorry Porteños, you will probably hate me and discredit anything I have to say since I know many of you think you have the best piksa in the world, but it’s much more common to find bad pizza in this city. I’m talking about all those Pizzerias los Hijos de Puta, serving an abundant layer of cheap plastic queso that never seems to properly melt, flimsy can’t-get-it-up cardboard crust, Olympic pools of oil, dried oregano-sprinkled canned tomato “sauce” CONSERVATIVELY spread atop, and a skimpy selection of stupid toppings (yeah… I’m looking at YOU palmitos, salsa golf, huevo duro and ham rubber).