Who gives a hoot what editors think?

As the restaurant critic of this newspaper (even if by default), I try to keep on top of the city’s latest gastronomic developments.

Which is why I said to my bosses, “So, how ‘bout I go and review Eatza Pizza?”

They hooted me down. I’m not kidding. One or two literally hooted. The others, showing more restraint, merely howled.

Eatza Pizza, they said, was too downscale. Not worthy of review.

“But it’s a perfect kind of Spokane place,” I argued. “It’s this incredibly cheap all-you-can-eat pizza buffet.”

“Exactly,” they said, ending the argument.

So instead of Eatza Pizza, I’ll have to go review some restaurant where they actually have exotic amenities like “table service” and a “wait staff” and “glassware.”

Yet I have my own outlet for downscale writing, and you’re looking at it. This Saturday column aims to cover every aspect of human experience, and I believe that includes going out for a cheap pizza buffet. So if I can’t do a proper review of Eatza Pizza, at least I can grab my big-eatin’ buddy, known as The Gaping Maw, and do a slice-of-life piece about eating a slice of pizza. Or seven.

Spokane has two locations of this burgeoning franchise, one at 4320 N. Division (where we went) and one out near the Valley Mall at 15319 E. Indiana Ave. You have no doubt already found them if you are (1) a thrifty food consumer, (2) parents of a large, ravenous family, or (3) a glutton.

That’s because this place specializes in quantity.

Here’s the drill: You walk in, pay your $4.59 for an adult or $2.69 for a kid, grab a plate and wander down a counter past 12 different pizzas lined up in a row. On the far end is a complete salad bar. And in the middle is a cluster of five different dessert pizzas. Just grab what you want and start eatza-ing da pizza.

I started with the salad bar, because I am a conscientious eater and a complete rookie.

“That’s a mistake,” said the Maw.

“What do you mean?” I said, iceberg lettuce trailing down my chin.

“You don’t want to fill up on THAT stuff,” he said, maneuvering a slice of pizza into his face.

I looked around at the other diners. The Maw was right. Most veterans, who could be described as hearty eaters, were packing in a few slices of pizza first. They reserved the salad bar for dessert, except, of course, they were also having dessert.

So I started in on my pizza. The most amazing thing about Eatza Pizza is the variety. Some of those 12 pizzas were your routine varieties, like pepperoni. But there was also a barbecue chicken pizza, a taco pizza and even a Spinach Alfredo pizza with white sauce.

The Maw, too, enjoyed the variety.

“I like the fact that they have four different all-meat pizzas,” said the Gaping Maw. “I’m a meat eatin’ guy.”

Now, as for quality, it was just fine. Please understand, the preceding sentence was written in my capacity as thrifty food consumer, not as professional restaurant reviewer. These aren’t gourmet pizzas. No one will ever mistake Eatza Pizza for Bennidito’s. These are cheap pizzas sitting under heat lamps. However, as the sign overhead states, they use 100 percent real cheese, they slice their own veggies, prepare their own dough and “blend” their sauce there every day. If I were to use one phrase to describe the pizza it would be: “Beats frozen.”

The pizza is certainly good enough to have people going back for seconds and thirds and …

“I’m working on No. 5,” said the Maw, who was by no means finished.

He, too, tried the salad bar, which was crisp, fresh and loaded with options like olives and mushrooms.

But we were by no means done. I went over to the dessert pizza counter and grabbed a slice of cherry dessert pizza, which was a slice of pizza crust covered with a cherry-pie filling. The Maw came back with two slices of a frosting-and-cinnamon pizza.

“Why’d you get two slices of the same pizza?” I asked. “They have all those other varieties, like apple and cherry.”

“If God wanted us to eat fruit, he would have had it grow on trees,” opined the Maw, a little melted brown sugar dribbling from one corner of his mouth.

I was now filled to capacity after only four slices of regular pizza and one dessert pizza. No way I could compete with the Maw.

“That’s seven slices of pizza for $4.59,” said the Maw. “Not bad. But you could really do some damage here with a bunch of teenagers.”

Yeah. Too bad Eatza Pizza didn’t exist when we had kids at home. We could have afforded to raise two or three more.