You Art What You Eat

And in another first for The Cow, we're blogging in real time to report, as promised, on the Michelangelo's Cafe experience, and whether they can really deliver 'The Taste of Art'.

6:47pm: I phone in my order for a Chilli Prawns pizza from the 'Gourmet' section of the Michelangelo's menu. I want to point out here that when it comes to pizzas my inclination would usually be to stick with the stock-standard 'pizza' type pizza. All this 'gourmet' stuff smacks a bit too much of gilding the lily to me. Nevertheless, we're assessing 'The Taste of Art' here, so I'm pulling out all the stops. The guy who takes my order (I like to think it is Michelangelo himself even if he doesn't have an Italian accent and doesn't laugh at my joke regarding my 'refined palette') is polite and efficient. So far so good. He says my pizza will be delivered within the hour.

7:12pm: I pour myself a glass of Milkwood Shiraz from the vineyards of central Victoria.

7:16pm: I notice that the Michelangelo's takeaway menu spells Caesar Salad as 'Ceaser Salad'. This is not encouraging coming from Classical Italians.

7:17pm: Further scrutiny of the menu reveals that the Chicken Dinners @ $15 come in the variations 'Medici', 'Isaiah' and 'David'. There are also pizzas of the 'Eden' and 'Adam' variety. This vague thematic thread would probably be tolerable if it were not for the fact that elsewhere in the menu we have the 'Hot Mamma', the 'Barnyard', the 'Tandoori', the 'Mexican' and the 'Aussie'.

7:17:30pm: I feel slightly nervous.

7:17:32pm: And then slightly nauseous.

7:21pm: The Michalangelo pizza delivery guy arrives. I know this is definitely not Michelangelo because he is not wearing a smock nor spattered with paint. Nevertheless, he is speedy and has arrived well within the time promised. He doesn't laugh at my 'I'm a starving artist' joke.

7:22pm: I photograph the pizza for The Cow.

7:23pm: I scoff a few slices of the Chilli Prawns pizza.

7:40pm: You know, I really wanted Michelangelo to prove me wrong. No, really. I wanted to be able to say to you "Well, Michelangelo promised the Pieta of pizzas, and, even though I was skeptical, dammit I have to take my beret off to him. I have to eat humble pizza. I have to give credit where it's due". I wanted to be able to say "When you're next in Sydney, y'know, there's a little place I must take you to, it's not fancy but crikey, can they sculpt you up a pizza. Not just any pizza mind you, but a work of art!"

Sadly, I cannot say any of these things. The Michelangelo Chilli Prawns pizza is guilty of the most appalling crime any foodstuff, let alone work of art, can commit. It is dull. There is nothing remotely challenging or even interesting about it. If you want to talk art, this is the Ken Done of pizzas.

9:09pm: I fail to think of a witty quip for the end of this post, having been drained of all inspiration by the vacuum of creativity inflicted on me by Michelangelo and his cronies, and retire to my garret to put another layer of paint on the dead chickens. No-one understands me.