Well, I've got the Rotherwood Special.
Back when I was an undergrad, I did a short stint as a pizza delivery driver, and there was this bloke from Rotherwood Street who was either pissed or stoned whenever he called up. The bugger could never remember if he stayed in Flat 1 of Block 2 or Flat 2 of Block 1, and pissfarted for ages trying to make up his mind.
The first time I got him, I said that I'd try both places and see which the right one was. Sunsequently, when ever I heard his voice, and of course working for a Sicilian establishment, I could not resist cutting him off and saying, "It's OK - we know who you are and we know where you live".

But I digress. Rotherwood, in his state of inebriation, used to order the most bizarre combinations of toppings - I expect the weed wakened certain odd appetites in the man. One day, he ordered:
- tomato
- cheese
- onion
- mushroom
- salami
- chicken
- bacon
- garlic
and damn, did it come out smelling good. Anyway, after delivering his pizza, I whipped up an identical one for myself, and since then, whenever I make a pizza, it's a Rotherwood Special.
