This might be one of the most niche things I’ve ever written about, but I swear to you, it’s true. The first time I saw it, I froze. My eyes widened. My brain screamed, “No, surely not!” But yes, Spaniards cut their pizza with scissors. (🤨😳🤯😱)
Now, before you imagine a pair of craft scissors crusted with Elmer’s glue, let me clarify: these aren’t the same scissors you used in fourth grade for arts and crafts. In Spain, they have kitchen scissors dedicated purely to food. And while I respect the hygiene of having a pizza-only scissor situation, I still can’t quite wrap my American brain around it.
What makes this even funnier is that my old roommate, who wasn’t even Spanish, adopted this quirk almost immediately after moving here. One minute, she was cutting pizza like a normal person (with a knife, obviously), and the next, she was snipping away like she’d been born into it. Assimilation at its finest.
Here’s the thing: I get the logic. Scissors are precise. They’re efficient. No dragging cheese halfway across the pizza with a dull knife, no sawing at the crust until it looks like a crime scene. In theory, it’s genius. But in practice? It just feels… wrong. Like using a ruler to stir your coffee, technically it works, but something deep in your soul says, “This isn’t how it was meant to be.”
Yes, I tried it myself. And yes, it “worked.” But let me tell you, the whole time I was snipping away, I felt like I was breaking some unspoken pizza law, one that Italians would probably have me deported over. Yes, Spain does have pizza cutters. I even bought one for our household. But here’s the funny part: everyone still reaches for the scissors first. It’s like the pizza cutter is purely decorative, a museum piece sitting on the counter while the real work is done with a pair of kitchen shears.
I guess you could argue that cooking is its own kind of craft, and maybe scissors are just a more “precise” tool for pizza artistry. But honestly? It still feels so wrong to my American instincts. There’s something about the motion, the sound, the sheer absurdity of snipping through a slice of pizza that makes my brain do a double-take every time. I’ve tried to embrace it, I’ve tried to justify it, but deep down… I still reach for a pizza cutter when no one is watching.
So now when I see scissors sitting on a Spanish kitchen counter, I don’t automatically assume someone’s been scrapbooking. More likely, they’re just getting ready for dinner.
Love always,
American Girl Meets World
