ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — There are those who believe rigidly in food traditions; that there’s one right way to make certain dishes — the original, old-school way — and no need or reason to mess with perfection.

And then there are the big pizza franchise chains, which will apparently never stop attempting to combine dough, sauce, cheese, meat and vegetables in different configurations, all in the name of novelty, trendiness or, ugh, “innovation.”

Case in point: Hungry Howie’s, the Michigan-based affordable pizza-delivery brand beloved by multi-kid families, budget-conscious college students and marijuana enthusiasts, recently debuted a pie based on the Cuban sandwich in Florida markets. The new offering pays tribute to the Tampa/Miami classic with ham, pork, salami (don’t get me started), and dill pickles on a mustard-mayonnaise (again, danger) sauce, ticking all the ingredient boxes it should, except for Swiss cheese and the Cuban bread that, let’s face it, largely defines the thing.

Why Hungry Howie’s would choose to voluntarily wander into a culinary cul-de-sac so niche, so localized and so beset by opinions and minor controversy — did it originate in Tampa or Miami? Does salami really go on an authentic Cuban? Does mayo? — is utterly beyond me.

But a coupon came in the mail.

And I will try pretty much any dish I haven’t had before.

Particularly if it falls within the junk-food genre. (We can argue about whether or when pizza falls into said genre online, thanks.)

So I ordered the new Hungry Howie’s Cuban Pizza. 

It came quickly, hot and looking more like the marketing photos than probably 80 percent of the pizzas I’ve ordered in my life. It didn’t smell exactly like a Cuban sandwich, which, to me, smells primarily like meaty roast pork, sharp yellow mustard and that pillowy, lard-laden bread; it smelled like a pizza.

The first bite brought the familiar, chewy texture of Hungry Howie’s hand-tossed-style crust and gooey real mozzarella, along with salty pork akin to the kind of bacon you usually get on a pizza and a surprisingly subdued hit of pickle slice. I’m not sure if the folks at Hungry Howie’s intentionally use pickles with a duller flavor to avoid palate shock or if the whole pie is just so salty that they don’t stand way out, but anyone averse to trying pickles on a pizza won’t find anything outrageous about their inclusion here. The presence of pickles adds a nice tang, but doesn’t overpower the overall profile.

As for the sauce — the element about which I was initially most skeptical — it’s surprisingly good, if a bit bland without that pungent yellow-mustard explosion. There’s a sweetness to it that seems to come along with practically every fast-food sauce from ketchup to (insert any chain’s proprietary tangy sandwich or dipping sauce here), but complements and contrasts the pie’s saltier elements well.

The lack of Cuban bread’s unique taste and light-yet-substantial mouthfeel definitely registers, but I can literally hear in my head a PR spokesperson for Hungry Howie’s pointing out that it’s called a Cuban Pizza, not a Cuban Sandwich Pizza, so we’ll let that slide.

Despite my suspicious knee-jerk reaction as a Tampa Bay local and human being in general to discovering a pizza chain had deigned to try and create a pie honoring a regional treasure, I really enjoyed the pie. I wouldn’t pass up an actual Cuban made by any number of area purveyors in its favor, but I can say it’s worth a try. So if you’re a fan of these flavors, feel free to order one up, take careful note of your own impressions, and then pay tribute in true foodie tradition — by going online and arguing about it.

The author gets a mouthful. (Scott Harrell)