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Craft vs Convenience: Why Every Pizza has its Place

Writer's picture: Rachael PopplewellRachael Popplewell

Pizza is an iconic, globally loved food. Billions of pizzas are consumed around the world each year, but when you dig into what pizza really is, it’s easy to see how the definition can get blurry. From the traditional Neapolitan pizza with its wood-fired bubbly crusts to the endless variations found across the world, pizza comes in many shapes and forms. But no matter the style, one thing is certain: pizza holds a special place in our hearts.

That being said, there are two very distinct worlds within the pizza realm: the quick, reliable offerings from mass-market chains like Domino’s, and the small-batch, handcrafted creations found in local pizzerias. The difference between these two types of pizza isn’t just in the ingredients—it’s in the experience itself. So while Domino’s and similar chains have carved out their own niche with convenience and consistency, pizzas made with love and care in small, local kitchens bring a whole different kind of joy.





A Slice of Naples: How One Pizza Changed Everything

I’ll admit it—I’ve been one of the worst pizza snobs (and, to an extent, I still am). For a long time, Neapolitan-style pizza was the only "true" pizza in my eyes. My love affair with pizza started early, though my initial experiences were far from gourmet. Growing up, pizza meant frozen supermarket pizzas or, on a rare occasion, a visit to Pizza Hut. But if I’m honest, the most memorable part of that visit wasn’t the pizza—it was the ice cream factory and the potato wedges. That probably says everything you need to know about the quality of the pizza!

As a child, I was a dedicated pepperoni lover when it came to frozen pizza. Then everything changed during a family holiday to Italy. We stopped in Naples on our way to Ischia, and that’s the day the pizza snob in me was born. I had my first Pizza Napoletana: no cheese, just a simple tomato base topped with anchovies, black olives, and sliced garlic—all served on the most perfect crust I had ever tasted. It was life-changing. From that moment, I fell in love with the crust, saving it for last like a reward at the end of every slice.

But then I came back to the UK, and nothing was good enough anymore. What I once considered pizza suddenly didn’t count. Frozen supermarket pizzas, takeaways, even some restaurant versions—they all seemed to lack the magic of what I’d experienced in Naples.





The University of Pizza: A Different Kind of Degree

My stubbornness only worsened during university. For most British university students, Domino's is a staple in the diet. The endless deals, combos, and convenience make it hard to resist. While my flatmates bonded over giant Domino's pizzas—half of which would sit in the fridge for days before being thrown out—I was busy seeking out the best street food pizza business in Cardiff, Ffwrnes. I was eager to learn everything I could about creating the authentic woodfired magic I had experienced in Italy. Not once in my three years at university did I even take a bite of a Domino's pizza.

Instead, I went a step further: I worked for Ffwrnes, learning their dough-making method and the unique art of stretching dough. I discovered how to handle it with care, ensuring it became the perfect woodfired beauty without compromising the crust by using too much force at any stage. That experience deepened my obsession with authenticity and craftsmanship, reinforcing everything I loved about Neapolitan pizza.

It didn’t stop there—I got worse. Whenever my family and I went out for pizza, I couldn’t help but analyze it, often saying things like, “Hmm, this doesn’t look like it was hand-stretched; I think it’s been ruined with a rolling pin.” I even started referring to certain pizzas as “crisps” when I felt the base had been destroyed by the force of a rolling pin and a longer, slower bake in a stone oven, rather than achieving the char and intense heat of a woodfire oven.



Rolling with the Punches: A New York Pizzeria and a Shift in My Pizza Beliefs

I think it was at the start of the COVID lockdown that my mindset began to shift. At the time, I wasn’t working with pizza—I’d been working at a café before being forced to stay at home. Like so many others, I took a deep dive into Netflix’s back catalogue, and that’s when I discovered Ugly Delicious (and my now-favorite chef). The first episode I watched was “Pizza,” and as Dave Chang traveled around the world exploring different interpretations of pizza, my eyes started to open.

One of his visits was to a New York pizzeria, where the chef rolled his dough with a wine bottle. At the time, I judged this harshly—thinking, “This isn’t the authentic pizza I know and love.” I couldn’t believe he wasn’t using the traditional hand-stretching method that I thought was the only way. But then, one thing that was featured was Domino's pizza. Lo and behold, this pizza chef, whom I had judged for not creating what I considered “authentic pizza,” also didn’t count Domino's as pizza.



That moment made me question everything. If I thought this chef, someone so passionate about pizza, wasn’t making my idea of pizza, who gave me—or him—the authority to decide what people should or shouldn’t enjoy as pizza?

Domino’s Pizza: Quick, Convenient, and Consistent

When you think about Domino's pizza, the first thing that comes to mind is convenience. It's designed for speed, mass production, and consistency, which is why it has such a strong presence in the fast-food world. While I’ve often dismissed it as "not pizza" in the traditional sense, there are elements that make it exactly what it’s meant to be: quick, accessible, and reliable.

One of the standout features of Domino's pizza is its delivery-first model. This company has made speed its priority—getting a pizza to your door as quickly as possible is central to their success. The thin, crispy crust is optimized for fast baking and travel, something that makes it work well in a delivery format but also leaves it feeling very different from the soft, chewy crust I fell in love with in Naples. The crust has been engineered to withstand the journey, staying crisp and intact rather than absorbing moisture and becoming soggy.

Then there's the toppings. Domino’s is known for piling them on, often to excess. While this may seem excessive, it’s a deliberate choice. The more toppings, the more flavor, and the more customers are drawn to the concept of maximum value. It's not about a balance of ingredients—it’s about giving people a lot of bang for their buck.

The dough recipe itself, mass-produced for consistency, is another area where Domino’s differs greatly from the hand-crafted, artisanal dough used in traditional pizzerias. It's designed for speed and efficiency, ensuring that every pizza that comes out of the oven is virtually identical to the one before it. While this makes for a predictable pizza, it also strips away the imperfections that can make handmade pizza unique.



My Pizza: Crafted for Quality, Flavor, and Experience

In contrast to Domino's focus on uniformity, convenience, and transportation durability, the pizza I create is rooted in craftsmanship, flavor, and connection. Each step of the process reflects a commitment to quality over speed.

Hand-stretching dough may result in a less uniform appearance, but that's exactly what makes it so special. Each pizza is unique, with a character that reflects the care taken in its creation. Hand-stretching also preserves the delicate air pockets formed during fermentation, giving the crust a light, chewy texture with a perfect balance of crispness.

The dough itself requires patience and adaptability. I use a poolish—a pre-ferment made with a blend of three different flours. This method takes time and regular attention, as the dough responds to changes in temperature, humidity, and time. It’s a living thing, and the care it receives directly influences the final product. While using a poolish isn’t strictly necessary, it creates a depth of flavor and texture that sets my pizza apart.

For me, the process is as rewarding as the result. Stretching dough by hand has always been my favorite part—learning to feel the subtle differences between "good" and "exceptional" dough is something that comes only with experience. But as I grew more confident in my craft, I found myself falling in love with the next step: cooking the pizzas. Working with the oven became equally as important and enjoyable to me. There's a sense of rhythm and precision in knowing exactly when to turn a pizza or when the crust has blistered to perfection. That balance of intuition and technique has become just as satisfying as stretching the dough itself.



Even during my busiest days in the kitchen, I don’t aim to churn out as many pizzas as possible. My sweet spot is four pizzas at a time—just enough to give each one the attention it deserves, from the stretch to the bake.

This approach is what makes Curiosity Kitchen different. While on paper, it might seem like Domino's and I offer the same product, the reality couldn’t be more different. The time, care, and high-quality ingredients I use aren’t shortcuts—they’re the foundation of what makes my pizza memorable.

Beyond the crust, the toppings are equally important. I prioritize fresh, seasonal ingredients, often experimenting with flavors and techniques inspired by my love for global cuisines. Whether it’s a classic Margherita or something more adventurous, every pizza is designed to be an experience—offering bold, balanced flavors that linger long after the last bite.

At Curiosity Kitchen, pizza isn’t just food. It’s a celebration of flavor, tradition, and creativity, made with care and designed to delight. Where mass production is about consistency, my process is about individuality, creating something that Domino's—or any chain—could never replicate.

Curiosity Grew: From Tradition to Experimentation

When I worked for Ffwrnes, the focus was on a beautifully simple menu. Classics like the Marinara, Margherita, and Pepperoni were perfected, emphasizing the balance and elegance that only traditional pizza can offer. There was immense satisfaction in mastering that simplicity—creating something timeless.

But as the years went on, and after working in various establishments as a chef post-university, my curiosity grew. By the time I began working at Grain, the pizza place in St Davids, I was ready for something different. It was after the lockdown—a time when I had questioned my own “pizza snobbery”—that I found myself itching to experiment. At Grain, I had the creative freedom to explore new ideas, and nothing seemed too crazy anymore.

This is where some of my most unique creations came to life. The Stroganoff pizza—featuring a creamy stroganoff sauce, bresaola, and mushrooms—became a hit. Then there was Green Eggs and Ham, combining peas, egg, and ham in a way that was as playful as it was delicious. Each special allowed me to push boundaries, merging flavors and ideas that I once might have dismissed.

That freedom to experiment reignited my passion for pizza, showing me that tradition and creativity could coexist.



While the classics will always have a special place in my heart, I realized that pizza could be so much more than what we consider “authentic.” It could be a canvas for flavor, a space to try something new, and a way to challenge the norms of what pizza “should” be.

This mindset has carried over to Curiosity Kitchen. While I respect and honor tradition, I no longer limit myself to it. I embrace experimentation and let my curiosity guide me, whether that means taking inspiration from my love of global cuisines or simply letting the freshest, seasonal ingredients spark an idea. At Curiosity Kitchen, pizza isn’t just a dish—it’s an opportunity to create something surprising and memorable every single time.

And this is where my approach to pizza diverges completely from something like Domino’s. While Domino’s focuses on uniformity, convenience, and mass appeal, every pizza at Curiosity Kitchen is crafted with care, creativity, and a love for the process. Where they emphasize speed and consistency, I prioritize flavor, quality, and individuality. My pizzas don’t just satisfy hunger—they tell a story, celebrate the joy of experimentation, and embody a passion for making something truly special.





They’re Not Comparable (And That’s Okay)

  • The truth is, they don’t belong in the same category—just like a supermarket isn’t comparable to a farm shop. You wouldn’t go to the farm shop every day to stock up on your essentials, but you’d go there for something special, a treat, or that one thing you really love. Domino’s is perfect for when you’re in a rush, starving, and need something immediately hot, salty, and satisfying—or maybe after a night out.

    That’s why I’ve started doing Friday Night Pizza at Curiosity Kitchen—because every time you have a pizza from here, it should feel special. It’s about slowing down, enjoying the process, and treating yourself to something made with care and attention. You can enjoy both without guilt, but make sure that at least once a week, you allow yourself that extra level of quality and flavor that my pizzas are made to deliver. Don’t make the mistake of going for convenience every time—because convenience can never compare to craft.

    And here’s a confession: I’ve never actually had a Domino’s or a KFC. (I have had McDonald’s, though—over seven years ago!) Some people enjoy both; some people only enjoy one or the other. I guess I’m a self-confessed food snob, and I can’t help it!

  • The Joy of Enjoying Both

    At the end of the day, there’s room for both types of pizza in your life. Domino’s fits perfectly for a spontaneous movie night at home or when you need something fast. But for a meal that feels like a little celebration, a reward after a long week, or an experience to savor, nothing beats a hand-stretched, thoughtfully crafted pizza from Curiosity Kitchen.

    Both have their place, and the choice is yours. Just don’t forget to carve out those moments to enjoy something truly special. Whether it’s a pizza made with care or another indulgence that brings you joy, those are the experiences worth cherishing.

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