In the 1990s we occasionally went to McDonald's to buy pimma. That's what we called it at least. It was supposed to say "Pizza", but the z's were cleverly placed sideways arches. Too pretentious for us, we stuck to "Pimma"
From what I remember it was decent pizza, a bit unique. The coolest thing about it is that they gave you these containers, one with pepper flakes, and one with parmesan. Personalizing your pimma with the flakes and parmesan was a big part of the experience. The pimma was always served scorching hot, as if it was designed to burn through human flesh. There was something about it though, they served the pimmas on these elevated circular pimma holders, and the whole meal was just a bit of an experience. This is all of course from the perspective of four or five ex-commie Polish teenagers, who were now in Canada enjoying capitalism up to our armpits. The pimma was priced cheaper than pizza hut IIRC, and for whatever reason we just never got pizza anywhere. We went out for burgers when we went out to eat, and hey, sometimes crazy fry and milkshakes at fast eddie's, and sometimes pimma at McDonald's.
It was good times, honestly.
I'll never forget the time I somehow acquired a coupon for free pizza at Pizza Hut. At the time this was a sit down eatery with semi-pretentious interior design. There was even a salad bar. So naive little ex-commie me wanders into this place, amazed that you could get free pizza just by showing them a piece of a paper that says I am entitled to free pizza. Seems like a scam, but it was totally legit. I sit down and throughly enjoy my pizza, and the guy serving me seemed super excited to be there too. This was the best service I had ever received up until that point in my life, if we exclude all my grandmothers, aunts, mom, and other relatives serving me food. Wow, you just show up, pass over a piece of paper, and get one free amazing greasy capitalist pizza. And they treat you so well for it too. So amazing, like a dream. I savoured every greasy molecule of that pizza and had one of the best meals of my life. Then I did not pay, washed my hands, and exited the restaurant, oblivious to the poor guy inside likely disappointed that he did not get a tip. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of my communist past and complete lack of understanding about the concept of tipping, especially so tipping for something that you did not even pay for.
During one of my first ever hot lunches in grade 7, the very first year I spent in the Canadian educational system, me and my equally oblivious Portugese friend George witnessed two men in uniform deliver a stack of piping hot pizzas to our classroom. Then they left. We looked at each other and thought the exact same thing: "Holy crap, Canada is as good as we heard, FREE PIZZA FOR LUNCH. We are going to LOVE it here". Me and my Portugese friend had no language in common in which we could communicate, but hand gestures and body language did the trick. Plus, "Free pizza" is something that everybody will understand. So we dug in and George even packed up a whole bunch of slices to bring back to his family. Pizza remittance.
For whatever reason we were never told that what we did was wrong. It just never came up. But that was the last time we had free hot lunch pizza.
A stranger in a pizza land.