I did not consciously seek to give business to the pizza chain founded by “Papa” John Schnatter, the man who went insane for his love of pizza, i.e., was ousted from his position after a checkered history that included saying the N-word during sensitivity training and being accused of sexual misconduct at least twice. I had meant to order from Papa Romano’s, a local Michigan chain, but it’s hard to keep track of so many Papas. Unfortunately, I am forced to concur with Schnatter, who said in a now-infamous interview during which he positively glistened with sweat: “I’ve had over 40 pizzas in the last 30 days, and it’s not the same pizza. It’s not the same product. It just doesn’t taste as good.” The cheese pizza, cut into squares because I thought it was going to be Detroit-style because I thought it was Papa Romano’s, was far doughier than I recall. The mozzarella congealed unpleasantly only to slide off the crust, leaving bland tomato sauce naked on the pie. Reheating the leftover pizza on the stove — my preferred method over the microwave or the oven — helped marginally by crisping up the bottom of each slice. But, I must agree with Papa, it was still a mediocre piece of pizza. 2/5 stars.