The first time I was in Kuwait was in the winter of 2011—so yes, many moons ago. I had packed the best of my New Delhi (India) winter wardrobe, which meant I was prepared for temperatures between 3 and 11 degrees. I had, of course, overlooked the fact that Kuwaiti winter is like no other. I was welcomed by biting cold winds and—hello—a sprinkle of rain in December. I survived, clearly, and have returned many times since, each visit surprising me in new ways. My then-fiancé, now husband, and his family welcomed me into the country, and my limited Google search had suggested we’d be visiting the Kuwait Towers in the City (City, always with an uppercase C—much like NYC) and perhaps the Scientific Center too.

But my fiancé had other plans—alongside these must-do attractions, of course.

He wanted us to sample the food. Specifically, Caesars pizza.

Now, I would never say no to pizza, like most of us. Leftover cold pizza for breakfast, in fact, is my definition of an ideal morning. So naturally, I agreed. Little did I know how small these pizzas would be—and how large the impact they’d had, not just on my partner, but on generations who grew up eating these tiny bites. We picked ours from the shop in Salmiya. Yes, a limited delivery era; plus, it’s part of the process, the driving to experience the aroma of the space as they pack your lot.

I didn’t admit it then, but I will now, publicly: I fell in love. On many occasions, I ate 12 in a row. You always order and eat by the dozen. I’m not recommending you do the same (as you would!), but to borrow a familiar tagline of another brand—no one can eat just one.

So there I was in 2011, faced with tiny pieces of round bread topped with what even a child might describe as “just ketchup and a blob of cheese.”

That’s gourmet? My heart screamed.

Yes, his heart replied.

A large rectangular box sat between us, no plates required. The idea was simple: dive right in. And so we did. To this day, if I need an example for phrases like “don’t judge a book by its cover” or “looks can be deceptive,” I turn to Caesars’ pizza.

It’s humble, tiny, and could do with a crash course in plating etiquette. But it wins—effortlessly—for being homegrown, much-loved, and quite literally melting in the mouth. And in case that wasn’t clear enough: it has been winning the “Most Popular” title for years. Those who grew up eating it—at birthday parties, through school corridors, across teenage hangouts—are now passing on the baton. Beautifully, quirkily, and with great affection, they’re introducing it to a new generation.

Of course, in the 90s, it wasn’t as easy to secure a box for the family! It involved waiting anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour. As he shares, his father would park the car at a distance, walk to the only shop in the City, and join the long queue of customers. Today, if you’re curious (and ambitious), you might try recreating the magic at home. Bake at 180 degrees. Use a yogurt-based dough—light as walking on clouds—along with pizza sauce, shredded mozzarella, and perhaps a touch of cream cheese. You might come close, but something always feels missing. Every imitator—online or on the streets—seems to fall short of capturing what makes this school snack-turned-adult indulgence so iconic. It refuses to grow up and, as a result, has allowed us to stay ‘kid hungry’ as well.

Hold it delicately between your thumb and middle finger and eat it in one bite. Let the cheese stretch and let the sweetness linger. Don’t worry about crumbs or licking your fingers. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching the OG Kuwait kids eat this pizza, it’s this: it’s meant to be messy, hurried (greedy), and celebrated. And yes, you have to make a big deal of it when you cross the shop or when it arrives on the table.

To this day, every trip my husband takes back home is a chance to relive his childhood. And inevitably, he returns with a box for us to share. We try to divide it fairly—though that’s always debatable. We may have grown up in different countries (I in India) and now live in another (the UAE), but in these small, cheesy bites, while he’s found a way to rewind to something simple, nostalgic, and quietly powerful, I’ve found something to love.

Purva Grover is a UAE-based author, journalist, and creative entrepreneur. You can stalk her on Instagram, @purvagr.