Hell Has “Frozen” Over

Table of Contents

It’s Been Awhile

When I last wrote, I was going on (and on) about why baseball matters so much to me—complete with stories about baseball cards and the memories they somehow still manage to hold onto better than I do.

I wrapped things up talking about my high school baseball days—specifically, my legendary (lightly exaggerated) exploits with my teammates. I’ll pick that story back up in the next article… I PROMISE. (Yes, yes—this time for real. Probably.)

2025 – Some Quick Pizza Stats

In the meantime, we’ve continued doing what we do best: eating a completely reasonable, not-at-all excessive amount of pizza.

Normally, I put together a detailed year-end review. This year… you’re getting the “executive summary” version. Think of it as the pizza equivalent of a highlight reel—less detail, same appetite.

We purchased pizza 50 times in 2025—almost identical to 2024. That’s basically one pizza per week, which feels like a solid, well-balanced lifestyle choice.
On top of that, I cooked 122 pizzas in 23 baking events—a feat of endurance that my doctor calls ‘concerning’ and my neighbors call ‘the only reason we still talk to you.’
Unfortunately, I stopped writing reviews after August 2025. That leaves 30 pizzas tragically undocumented—a loss historians will struggle to recover from. I’ll try to catch up over the next few months… but with a trip to Italy coming up, let’s just say my focus may shift from writing about pizza to “research.”
BUT, I’ve changed the Pizza Table such that mini reviews can be found for many of those

In this post, I’m skipping the backlog and jumping straight to a recent purchase. Why? Because the following event was so unlikely, so statistically impossible, that I’m currently checking the forecast in Hades because it’s possible that hell’s frozen over! (aka – there might be a good frozen pizza out there…more on that later)

Nebaletan Word of the Day – Cric e Croc/Crick e Crock

If you grew up in an American-Italian household, you didn’t just have “friends”—you had partners in crime. My mother, Grandma Joanne, had a specific label for those two peas in a pod who were always glued together: **Cric e Croc**.

Whether you were inseparable for good reasons, bad reasons, or just slightly annoying ones, you were getting tagged with “Crick e Crock” whether you liked it or not.

Pronounced “Creek-ay-Croke,” this Nebaletan slang is the shorthand for Laurel and Hardy. Think of two people who are always together, usually getting into some kind of ”harmless” trouble, and somehow making everything harder than it needs to be.

I’ve called out plenty of “Cric e Croc” behavior over the years Cric e Croc —most notably with Capos Donnie and Carm. If you want a trip down memory lane, look no further than this gem from 2020 – 70’s V4, Wearing Moodons ‘Cause It’s Cold! & GPa #4! – FeMike’s (aka IronMikes) Blog (wordpress.com).

I have to give credit to my brother, Chip, and the legendary Lou Monte for reviving this “Grandma Joanne-ism” in my brain.

I was listening to Apple Music when Lou Monte’s *Pepino’s Friend, Pasqual (The Italian Pussycat)* started playing (here – https://music.apple.com/us/album/pepinos-friend-pasqual-the-italian-pussycat/1437634057?i=1437634295).

Right in the middle of the track, Lou belts out, **“Ehi, Crick e Crock!”** I hadn’t heard that song in years, and I’ll be honest—I nearly wet my pants with laughter!

Quick Summary

The Term: Cric e Croc (Crick e Crock)
The Meaning: A duo that is inseparable, often in a slapstick or chaotic way.
The Vibe: If one falls into a hole, the other is already halfway down to join them.

Hell Has “Frozen” Over – Newman’s Own Margherita – Feb/Mar 2026

If you look through my blog, you’ll find that I keep a ratings spreadsheet of every purchased pizza for nearly 7 years (249 as of this writing!). Frozen pizza has its own category, and let’s just say… it’s not exactly the honor roll. Most entries are fighting just to “climb up” into my lowest category of MEH!

Against that backdrop, Newman’s Own Frozen Margherita was first tried on February 27 (along with a Frozen Screamin’ Sicilian…which was a pale comparison to Newman’s) and again on February 28 and again March 22!

I truly believe that Hell has “Frozen” Over!

These repeats weren’t desperation dinners or a “let’s lower our standards tonight” situation. These were deliberate revisits, pulled from the freezer in special return trips to Publix and judged like any other pizza—no curve, no sympathy points.

I was so amazed by our first Newman’s Own Frozen Margherita, I had to check to see if my taste buds had gone awry and had deceived me. And had to try again!

Right away, Newman’s Own Frozen Margherita stands out for what it doesn’t do. It doesn’t overload the cheap cheese substitute, it doesn’t try to spice its way into hiding flaws, and it definitely doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t. It’s just balanced… which, in the frozen aisle, is practically a personality trait.

Although the packaging does not say “Neapolitan” specifically but only “Margharita” and “Made in Italy”, it’s a Neapolitan!

The crust is better than any frozen pizza I’ve had in the past – including frozen pizzas that I had shipped directly from Napoli. It has a similar structure, texture, thin center with a puffy cornicione of a true Neapolitan. And, the flavor, although not totally there, is as close to a Neapolitan as I’ve tasted in a frozen pizza.

But the real MVP here is the sauce. It’s clean, tomato-forward, and—miracle of miracles—not bitter or overly seasoned. In a category where sauces often taste like they were designed during a salt over-supply panic, this one shows real restraint.

Cheese follows the same philosophy: just enough to support the pizza without smothering it. It’s the rare frozen pie that understands “more” isn’t always “better,” a lesson many others have clearly skipped. The cheese flavor is a definitely that of a good moozedell, not like some Kraft-style over processed crap.

Value-wise, it’s a “Good” value at $10 for what turns out to be about a 10″ pizza which is $14 for the equivalent of a 12″ Neapolitan. This is an excellent equivalent price for a Neapolitan for the US, but I’d expect a little lower since it’s “factory” made and not artisan, made in front of you!

All in, I rate this as a “GREAT” pizza—not because it’s fooling anyone into thinking it came out of a wood-fired oven in Napoli, but because, in three separate tastings, it consistently avoids the usual frozen pizza mistakes better than most.

Bottom line: this is one of the few frozen pizzas I actually choose, not just tolerate. When time is short, energy is low, or I just don’t feel like playing pizza roulette, Newman’s Own Frozen Margherita is a reliable call. In a category full of compromises, this one feels intentional—and that alone makes it worth keeping in the freezer