Growing up, Sunday was pizza day. Always from the same place, an unassuming local Italian in the days before we’d heard of puffy Neapolitan pizza. And always the same: “Porchetta with no mushrooms.” Aka Hawaiian. Aka ham and pineapple. The contrasting tart-sweet tinned pineapple with salty ham seemed like wizardry to my young palate.
The Hawaiian is highly controversial, but one dish ignites similar passions: the full English. Last week, the English Breakfast Society ruffled feathers by claiming a certain unexpected fruit belonged on a fry-up. You guessed it – the pineapple.
Their argument? By the late 16th century, pineapples, introduced to Europe by Christopher Columbus, were seen as a luxury. They were “a highly prized breakfast ingredient for wealthy English families, which is why you can find lots of old English pineapple breakfast recipes,” said the group’s chairman, Guise Bule de Missenden.
Most readers will have spilled their tea in disgust, but I was delighted. For the pineapple has been unfairly maligned since its 1970s heyday as a sidekick to gammon and chips. That combination is heaven. Salt, fat, acid and sugar – what’s not to like? I can see it thriving in a fry-up. Pineapple with bacon and sausage makes sense, though I’d replace the tomato (acid overload). It essentially offers the acid-sweet twang of brown sauce.
Back to pizza, and pineapple is making an entrance in the most surprising place of all: Naples. Earlier this year, one of the world’s most respected pizzaioli, Gino Sorbillo, caused a stir by serving pineapple on a white pizza, with no tomato or ham. Social media predictably went into uproar but, according to Sorbillo, most locals were impressed. “I liked it, it’s a bit like sushi,” said one Italian food writer. “At the start you might not love it but then it becomes a fixation.”
Ham and pineapple is a combination many love to hate. A couple of years ago, I was on a dating app that allowed users to post short prompts about themselves, their likes and personality traits, mostly. A startling number considered a preference for pineapple on pizza as their most controversial opinion.
Sweet and savoury just works – there’s a reason you can’t move for salted caramel. Cheese and chutney is excellent, but try jam instead. Dried apricot in a tagine? Yes please. My family’s tradition is to serve tinned pineapple with ham at Christmas. It always elicits a derisory smirk from at least one guest, but for me it wouldn’t be Christmas without it.
Why does pineapple on pizza – and in fry-ups – cause a commotion? There’s the fruit on savoury dishes argument to which the only thing I’d say is, it’s your loss. Some don’t like pineapple’s sometimes mouth-pricklin’ acidity. Fair enough. Ultimately, I think it’s because it’s seen as American. No matter that it was invented by a Greek immigrant in Canada, the Hawaiian is seen as a philistine, American gimmick. Yet, a symbol of wealth, pineapples can be found on St Paul’s Cathedral and atop the Wimbledon gentlemen’s singles trophy. It’s the name of our possible future prime minister’s favourite pub. You wouldn’t get that with a plum.
For me, the pineapple isn’t regal because it’s a symbol of wealth. It’s because it’s so versatile, and goes so damn well with pork. Whether that’s a pineapple ring with gammon, cubes on a Hawaiian or even in an English breakfast, it’s time to give the fruit the respect it deserves.
• Tomé Morrissy-Swan is a freelance food writer
