Another beautiful sunny day, and another pizza entering my stomach.
Bella Vista is a wonderfully located restaurant just beside Bristol Bridge. (At least, it is when Extinction Rebellion aren’t protesting and blocking the road, as they are today, blocking the road with a large pink boat).
Considering the sun, my two companions, Martin and George hit up Bella Vista for the lunch deal, knowing it had an outside seating area overlooking the Avon.
Inside was the ‘typical Italian restaurant in the UK’ decor that you’ve seen a million times- plastic, mock-wooden floor, cheapish furniture and paintings of Italy on the wall. This was very clearly the type of Italian restaurant actually owned and run by Italians.
So, given the not exactly illuminating interior, we decided to take a seat outside as planned.
See, Bella Vista.
We went for the lunch deal, which was as many trips to the salad bar as one wants, and then a pizza, for not very much money at all.
I had a Marg, as per my rules, Martin had some chilli one and George had the BBQ Chicken, which I would consider a criminal offence if I didn’t love Hawaiian pizza so damn much- Hawaiian pizza is abhorrent to Italians: An Italian friend of mine once disdainfully referred to Hawaiian as ‘a German invention.’
So, after ordering, I got up to eat far too much at the salad bar, and ruin my main, as always.
Manoeuvring around the scrambling hands of the other patrons at the salad bar, I managed to assemble an aesthetically pleasing salad, that upon eating was actually almost 100% cheap, watery mayo, and cold, chewy garlic bread.
Tackling this with stoic determination, and doing my best avoiding tasting much as I chased it down with Diet Coke- I persevered to finish, as I detest food wastage – I went to the salad bar again to find they’d rotated the offering, and I managed to assemble a salad that actually tasted alright.
As I wandered back to the table, I came into an awkward moment as I spotted the waiter, wanted to get to the table before him and dashed for the table, and ended up blocking him by the door to the outside seating area. However, after this minor debacle I made it to my seat, with the pizza sat before me.
Strangely, I found the messy, haphazard slices charming. The pizza was a thin, yeast crust with lots of tomato sauce and a sprinkling if grated mozzarella. Overall, it was pretty standard fare; much like the restaurant, the pizza was the typical style of pizza one gets in any family style Italian in the country.
It had a fair smattering of a plain-ish but inoffensive, maybe even good tomato sauce, but with an even mozz covering (not too much, not too little). The crust was slightly browned and didn’t explode with flavour, but got the job done.
Suffice it to say I ate the whole thing, despite the above complaints, and the monstrous amount of salad bar I had consumed beforehand.
🍕🍕🍕
Cheers, Connor
Pizza on Earth 