Out & About #301 | Double Exposure Trials + Mickey's Pizza

A one-week hibernation period commenced in mid-December for the sake of studying the ins and outs of concrete construction and structural properties of structural materials. (But really, half of that time had been utilized to familiarize myself with ASTRO and their pre-debut activities - I'm a confirmed AROHA now, by the way.)

With disastrous driving conditions and subzero temperatures governing the world outside my window, attempting double exposure from the cozy comfort of my study room wasn't a particularly dreadful exam-period pasttime.
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Behold the results of several days of experimentation!

I was also fortunate enough to have Costco's vanilla-chocolate soft serve (in a waffle cone!) delivered to me amidst the memorizing mayhem.

​The day immediately proceeding my night exam was initially deemed a time of relaxation, but the urge to leave the house soon became apparent in the early evening hours. I, along with my favourite fellow fangirl, headed out to Rattray Marsh shortly after 4:00 PM, only to led in the wrong direction by the GPS and arrive at the shooting destination past twilight.
Several vain attempts later, I reluctantly admitted defeat. We strolled the area until dinnertime.

​Put bluntly, Mickey's is no Goodfellas. Located in a tiny plaza just south of Clarkson GO station, amidst no-name jewellery and beauty shops, is an even tinier hideout of a prized pizza place. A large flashing LED sign reads the date as well as an unambiguous "AS SEEN ON YOU GOTTA EAT HERE".

Parking is ample, but it was a Thursday evening (and nearing Christmas) after all. It took me a moment to realize that the Insta-glamified Mickey's wasn't going to be the relaxing sit-down spot (with waiter service) that I anticipated.

Lighting was dingy and impossibly yellow. A plethora of holiday decorations, two television monitors, and red highlights succeeded in relieving the interior from an excessive amount of tawniness. However, this wasn't enough to compensate the extremely close proximity of, well, everything.

​The establishment was by no means lofty, so a chalkboard menu that extended from the floor to the ceiling definitely did not provide the best view of their pizza selections. It should also be noted that despite that legibility of the menu, the ordering system itself lacked clarity.
Steps had been listed to assist customers in arriving at a decision, with "Step 1" being "Relax! You're in a happy place!" Persobally I found this quite amusing, though this wad essentially the extent of my amusement. Prices varied based off of pizza type (flat or deep-dish) as well as the number of toppings; additionally, toppings were classified into "Basic", "Regular", or "Premium" grades, each of which were charged individually.

​​Had it not been for my dining partner-in-crime, it is highly probable that I would have remained in front of the menu board for another solid ten minutes, gradually soaking up the putrid smell of grease in the meantime.

​The options were endless, ranging from both signature combinations and build-your-own selections. By no means were the signatures more economic though: equally hefty price tags had been tacked onto the small, round carby specimens.

Our Baby-sized Chicken Hawaiian totalled a whopping $18.80 - a number I had never, ever, even grazed when ordering fast food. Taking into account the lack of seating, nonexistent dining atmosphere, and sheer absence of air cicrulation and breathing space, I wasn't quite sure what exactly I was forking over such a grand amount for.

To make matters more enjoyable, a six-person party had taken the liberty of dispersing themselves around the single group table in the minuscule takeout joint without a care in the world for any other customers that had wished to devour their cheesy order in-store. A smaller group attempted to pull out stools for themselves, reaching around us while squeezing between the entranceway and the obnoxiously-seated, boisterous crew of not-so-respectful young adults.

In short, the equation made for a nightmare for extreme claustrophobia.

​Twenty-something minutes, our order was finally ready. The Chicago-style dish was made-to-order: each pan was lined and filled with toppings after payment processing, then baked to perfection, and lastly placed on a rotating hot plate for added crispiness.
For a location that primarily focuses on takeout orders, Mickey's is far from attaining a level of efficiency appropriate for its client base. Majority of the staff members are courteous, but once again, lacking in swiftness.

​To save our - but mainly my - sanity, I suggested taking the item to go. The air, space, and overall environment was merely too much for my inner germophobic and claustrophobic self to manage.

We sliced into the deep-dish pizza upon arriving home. Crispy edges, which were suprisingly thinner than expected, lined a wonderfully thick layer of cheesy goodness sandwiched between pulpy tomato sauce; the remaineder was topped with bits of bacon, a spoonful of diced pineapples (likely canned) and a few morsels of chicken breast.
Candidly speaking, the Chicken Hawaiian was an impressive take on standard North American comfort food. Taste-wise, it was thoroughly enjoyable.

​Unfortunately, the experience cannot solely be rated based on the final outcome. The restaurant failed to meet any of my other basic requirements, and in no way possible can the price be justified.

Mickey's Pizza made for a unique dining occurrence, but one that is only capable of warranting a single visit.

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