The Unusual 2-Ingredient Upgrade A Small Midwestern Chain Gave Hawaiian Pizza
While the classic Hawaiian pizza toppings remain ham and pineapple, some creative pizzerias put their own spin on the pie. Donatos Pizza, for example, adds some "not-so-secret ingredients": cinnamon and sliced almonds. Donatos, founded in Columbus, Ohio, in 1963, now has close to 425 locations in 28 states. This number includes 175 Donatos restaurants and about 300 partnership locations. The chain is known for its famous thin crust and, as stated on its website, a dedication "To serve the best pizza and make your day a little better."
In addition to the cinnamon and sliced almonds, Donatos' Hawaiian pie comes with smoked provolone, shaved ham and pineapple. While it comes on the thin crust by default, you can also request a thicker crust, hand-tossed crust, cauliflower crust, or a more traditional gluten-free option.
Other Twists To Pineapple Pizza
Although pineapple on pizza is hotly debated (Icelandic President Guðni Jóhannesson stirred up international outrage in 2017 by saying he wished he could ban it as a topping option), putting fruit on pizza (or at least, pizza's culinary ancestors) is a historical concept that dates back at least 2,000 years. And while Panopoulos didn't invent Hawaiian pizza until the 1960s, a similar idea, Toast Hawaii (ham, cheese, pineapple and a maraschino cherry on white bread) was trending in Europe several years before. So, love it or hate it, pineapple pizza is perhaps both inevitable and here to stay.
Besides Donatos' spiced and crunchy twist, other pizza restaurants have not only embraced the Hawaiian pizza, they've added their own intriguing takes. Hideaway Pizza, a popular chain with locations in Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Texas, puts canned mandarin orange slices on its Maui Magic specialty pizza. Tandoori Pizza, known primarily for its Indian-inspired flavors, adds pineapple to its BBQ Chicken Pizza. Even Pizza Hut, although not one of the best fast food pizza chains, thinks outside the box by foregoing the ham for chicken (and bell peppers) on its Hawaiian Chicken Pizza. And Mellow Mushroom has not one, but two, pineapple pizzas: the Pacific Rim (with the notable addition of jalapeños) and the Maui Wowie, which substitutes red sauce for pesto and kicks up the heat with jerk chicken and banana peppers.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Hamilton Spectator
a day ago
- Hamilton Spectator
The Benchmaker of Selkirk: How one man carved out a life and a legacy in wood
It started with an injury. Robert Unik, a steelworker in Selkirk, Manitoba, was badly hurt on the job and found himself in need of a new career — and workers' comp willing to pay for the education. Most would've reached for something predictable and safe. Unik had a different vision shaped not by practicality, but by passion. 'I was already carving,' he told me over the phone, stepping away from his buzzing power tools to talk. 'So I told them, 'I want to be a master carver.' And they said, 'Okay. Go find a school, and we'll pay for it.'' That decision would send Unik on a long and unlikely journey, culminating in thousands of hand-carved benches — each with a story, each a monument, and each unapologetically his. His official carving journey began not in a Canadian college, but in St. Paul, Minneapolis, where he trained essentially through correspondence. Upon returning home, he bounced between cabinet shops, learning from old-school master carvers until the title of 'master carver' was quietly retired in Canada. 'I don't know how to build a cabinet,' Robert chuckled. 'I know how to carve.' He spent decades teaching middle-years woodworking in River East Transcona, becoming a fixture in the school system. Then, amid the COVID chaos, everything shifted. A new principal decided Unik didn't meet the paperwork requirements to stay on, despite having 17 years of independent teaching experience. 'They said, 'You're out of here.' And I told them where to go.' It could have been the end. Instead, it was a new beginning. Laid off, Unik turned back to carving. His workshop filled with sawdust and orders. At first, it was bears, then small signs, then benches. 'Benches became my thing,' he says. 'Now that's all I do.' But these aren't just places to sit. They're narratives in cedar and spruce — adorned with dinosaurs, monarch butterflies, gnomes, poppies, family crests, and Norse mythology. Each one tells a story. Each one takes seven to ten days of intense labour — though he could finish the actual carving in three, if not for the finishing, sanding, and painting. His tools are electric grinders and power carvers, not the old-school chisels. But don't mistake that for shortcuts. 'I'm still holding the tools,' he says. 'Still making every cut myself.' He's carved for schools, libraries, memorials — even celebrities. One of his pieces was nearly commissioned by Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top until Unik discovered the musician wanted it in red cedar, one of two woods he's allergic to. 'I would've ended up in the hospital,' he explains. 'So I passed the job to a buddy in California.' Unik has no storefront, no website, and no formal advertising. But he uses Facebook with surgical precision, posting in dozens of local and regional groups. 'It takes me two hours every time I post,' he said. 'But I've got over 30,000 followers now.' He's even turned down offers from major distributors who wanted to buy his benches at a discount and flip them at triple the price. But that's not why he makes them. Instead, he donates one or two benches a year. One of his proudest? A Ukrainian-themed bench raffled off for refugee aid, raising nearly $10,000. One bench landed in Grand Marais. His dinosaur bench is a permanent fixture in the Selkirk Library. 'They send me pictures of kids climbing on it. That's the best part.' Every bench tells a story. Hand carving is, in his words, a dying trade. 'Chainsaw carving is everywhere now. You can't make money off it anymore,' he says. 'And CNC machines have replaced most carvers in the shops.' But Robert still teaches the old ways. Students come from as far as Lorette to take lessons in his Selkirk garage. 'Last winter I didn't have time,' he said. 'This winter, maybe.' His advice for young artists? 'Don't expect to get rich. Be patient. I've been carving for 47 years. It only really took off in the last ten.' As we talked, I was struck by how little ego there is in the work. Yes, he's proud of his benches — and he should be. They're magnificent. But the real joy, the one that lights up his voice, is in seeing someone see them. 'When a kid points to the carving and says, 'Look at that!' — that's the moment.' He's carved for causes. For friends. For the memory of someone's mother. And once, for a stranger who drove 2,500 kilometres from Texas just to pick up a bench. In a world of mass production, Robert's benches stand as monuments to stubborn craftsmanship. To handwork. To choosing art over convenience. They are, in every sense, one of a kind. And in Selkirk, tucked into a backyard shop, one man keeps carving. — Steven Sukkau is a Local Journalism Initiative reporter who works out of the Winnipeg Sun. The Local Journalism Initiative is funded by the Government of Canada. Have thoughts on what's going on in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, or across the world? Send us a letter to the editor at . Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Hamilton Spectator
a day ago
- Hamilton Spectator
A camp experience for less than $5? Winkler-based ministry says it's possible
At first glance, the idea seems impossible: Send a child to camp — including food, songs, crafts, and discipleship follow-up — for less than the cost of a fast-food combo meal. And yet, that's precisely what Children's Camps International (CCI), a Winkler-based faith organization, has done for more than two decades. Now in its 23rd year, CCI has helped more than 4.3 million children in Asia and South America attend camp, many of whom have heard about the love of Jesus for the very first time. 'So far this year, we've already reached over 240,000 kids, and we're expecting to hit 340,000 by the end of the year,' says Dave Thiessen, Executive Director of CCI. 'And we're still doing it for under $5 per child, which includes a full year of follow-up.' At its core, CCI is a ministry of partnership. Instead of building new infrastructure overseas, the organization trains and equips local churches to run their own summer day camps, similar to vacation Bible school programs in North America. 'The model is intentionally low-cost and locally owned,' says Thiessen. 'We help churches run vibrant, Jesus-centred camps that include crafts, games, singing, food, and Bible teaching — all within their own neighbourhoods.' Children, typically aged 8 to 15, are invited from nearby communities to attend camp. For many, it's their first introduction to a message of love, hope, and value. 'A lot of these kids have never heard that there's a God who sees them and cares for them,' says Thiessen. 'It's life-changing.' The ripple effects of these camps are staggering. One story Thiessen shares involves a young girl in a restricted country in Asia. Her father used to pour milk over stone idols as an offering. His daughter attended a CCI camp simply because she was hungry. She came to know Jesus — and eventually, so did her father. 'Now he uses that milk to feed people in his village,' Thiessen says. 'Same cow, totally different purpose.' Another powerful story involves a man named Shiva who was seriously injured in a car accident. Alone in hospital, he was visited by a Christian couple, sparking a friendship and eventual faith conversion. When he returned home, he struggled to share his new faith with adults. Then he heard about CCI. 'He started one of our camps and now says, 'This is my church,' surrounded by hundreds of children,' Thiessen says. Back home, Thiessen says the ministry's Canadian supporters come from all walks of life — from farmers donating crops in regional 'Harvest for Kids' events, to high school students building and selling houses, to families running lemonade stands. 'Everybody's got a gift,' says Thiessen. 'If you're a farmer, farm for kingdom impact. If you run a business, use it to bless others. Everyone can play a role.' Recently, a collector car was donated to CCI and is now part of a sweepstakes fundraiser. Earlier this month, a slow pitch tournament in Winkler raised over $20,000 for the cause. Meanwhile, the agricultural community continues to show strong support, with active Harvest for Kids fields now planted in Manitoba, Saskatchewan, and Alberta. 'When it's time to thresh, everyone comes out to help,' Thiessen says. Currently, over 5,000 churches are on the waiting list to join CCI's network. The potential impact is staggering. 'If we had the funding today, we could send a million kids to camp this year,' Thiessen says. 'The infrastructure is in place. The churches are ready. We just need the resources.' Even more remarkably, most of the international churches now cover about 75% of the camp costs themselves. CCI's model is designed to reduce dependency over time, ensuring local ownership and long-term sustainability. 'We don't want to parachute in and take over,' says Thiessen. 'We want to empower churches to disciple their own communities for generations. Legacy, purpose, and the long view For Thiessen, who spent years in business before joining CCI, the work is personal. 'This is the hardest thing I've ever done, but also the most fulfilling,' he says. 'It's not about building an empire — it's about transforming lives.' He says the mission is ultimately a challenge to every Canadian: 'What legacy do you want to leave behind? What have you been gifted with? Use it. Whether it's $5 or five acres, invest it in something eternal.' Learn more at . — Steven Sukkau is a Local Journalism Initiative reporter who works out of the Winnipeg Sun. The Local Journalism Initiative is funded by the Government of Canada. Have thoughts on what's going on in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada, or across the world? Send us a letter to the editor at . Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Hamilton Spectator
2 days ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Lively's Gerry Wagner got married on D-Day, then went to war
To reach 100 years old is quite the milestone. It is with sadness that the family of Gerald (Gerry) Wagner share that their dad is no longer here to recount his memories. He was in otherwise good health right until his last days. Born March 24, 1925, and leaving us on July 19, 2025, Wagner represented a chapter of Canadian history that is soon to disappear. 'I am writing to let you know of the passing of Private Gerald Wagner, of Lively, the last known member of The Royal Hamilton Light Infantry (RHLI) who served in World War 2,' posted Captain (retired) Tim Fletcher. As a young man, Wagne joined 'RHLI late in the war and fought through some of their toughest battles towards war's end,' said Fletcher. 'I was supposed to meet him last year. The fates conspired against us getting together. I was in the Army Reserves for 36 years. I try to stay involved with as many veterans as I can.' Wagner served in Italy, then France. After hospitalization, he caught a returning English convoy to Belgium. In Holland, he was at Nijmegen, then off to Essen and ended up with the Royal Hamilton Light Infantry. He was then part of the occupation of Germany as part of the Queen's Own Rifles. 'The loss of someone like Pvt. Wagner is a loss not just for our regiment but for all Canadians, Fletcher said. 'His experience was a reminder of the human condition and that we have to work towards something better. It is an erosion of memory.' For this reason, donations to the Royal Canadian Legion Branch #564 Lockerby Poppy Fund would be appreciated. His daughter Kathy O'Neill recalled her father's last days. 'We were just loading the motorhome on the ferry to Newfoundland and in the lineup. We got the call. We came back fast. I even offered to drive. Dad was in hospital and he waited for us. My sister was here. We were soon all here.' Like many pensioners across Sudbury, Wagner had long service with Inco (34 years.) He had been living at the Meadowbrook community (a Chartwell retirement residence in Lively) since 2015. 'So many people have come up to us and said such nice things,' O'Neill said. 'In Lively, drivers used to honk and wave to our dad. He used to be at the corner. Messages on Facebook recall him being there. He said before he passed that he just wanted peace and love.' I had an afternoon to talk with Wagner this spring. It was soon after he received the King Charles medal on his birthday. He was musing about letting his hair grow; maybe to even – he said jokingly - consider a ponytail. 'I was born in Pembroke. My dad was a diamond driller. I was later with the same company. There were five children, and I was number four. It was a happy childhood ... 'In 1941, I came up north to join my Dad. I've been here ever since. I ended up in Creighton. I met a good-looking girl. I knew she was the one for me.' Ivy (nee Hodgins) predeceased in 2009. 'It was Christmas. I proposed with a box of Laura Secord chocolates. Robert Brown Jewellers sold me a ring. There was a tray of rings. My Mum chose, and I paid in full. 'I drove my Dad's green Buick out to Creighton. I put the ring in the centre spot of the box. Ivy did not see it. She took the box, thanked me, and put the chocolates to the side. It was only when her grandmother said that Ivy should have a second look inside that she realized what was there.' Wagner had to get permission from the Canadian Army to get married. 'I was just a private. We got married on D-Day (June 6, 1944.) The church was packed … I thought they were there for our wedding, but actually the doors were open for everyone and anyone to pray. They all stayed.' The ceremony was delayed for hours. 'I was waiting patiently for Ivy as she and her parents went into town to get her flowers and found everything was closed. We were 65 years married when Ivy left us. I had no appetite, but I had my little dog.' Beauty was a Bichon and the love of Meadowbrook. She was close to Wagner's heart. 'She took sick and suffered, and she had to leave me. She was 15.' For this reason, donations to Pet Save is another of Wagner's wishes. What was the secret to his long and rewarding life? 'I quit drinking, I eat well, and no, I don't exercise,' he said in the spring. 'I moved in here. I have been in the same suite. I have been happy here.' In the summer on a nice day, you might have spotted Wagner. 'Any day I go out to the corner, and I sit and watch the cars driving by. Sometimes I get a toot-toot. I get very suntanned over the summer. 'It's been a good life. Have loving children, four grandchildren and four great grandchildren … and another coming. Life is what you make of it. If something is broken, go and fix it. If it isn't broken, don't mess with it.' Bluesky: @ X: @SudburyStar Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
