There comes a time in every man’s life, where he must look back into the past and realise that perhaps his perception of events was not correct, and admit that maybe, just maybe- he was wrong.
Pizzarova.
This was by no means my first visit to Pizzarova. I have had the pizza here a few times before, and for whatever reason, not massively enjoyed it. Was I hungover? Dazed? Drunk? Who knows?
I cycled as fast as I could from work, as I had to be in Filton at 18:15 to be the assistant director on a short sketch film, and needed my pizza fix beforehand. I (nervously- I had one stolen recently) left my bike in the sunny seating area outside and went through the door.
I strolled through the door, and wandered up to the counter to place the usual order- Margherita.
The deal with Pizzarova is that you can get the Marg, or for a few quid more, have as many toppings as you want- these are all fresh and are rotated every now and again, keeping the staples in place.
I placed my order and walked around to the loo out back, ostensibly to piss, but also to sneak a glance at the dough station.
After this, I waited impatiently in the sun, sipping my lemonade, cooling down from the cycle up Gloucester Road.
For those of you who’ve never cycled up GRoad, it’s a gauntlet. The cars, I’m sure, are deigning to kill you, and the other cyclists weave recklessly (and helmetlessly) in between these cars, and seem to take it as a personal affront when you overtake them; chasing you down to then swing panting and spluttering in front of you at the next set of lights. This goes especially for the middle aged blokes in their post-work lycras, in the midst of their mid-life crises.
Thus, I enjoyed the five minutes waiting to destress, watching the people walk past on the pavement in the afternoon sun.
And finally, it came. Due to my previous visits, I wasn’t expecting what happened next.
It was incredible.
An implausably light, tasty, slightly chewy dough on the crust, but one which still managed to have a rigid base with a few specks of charring on the bottom and a great crunch to it, making it so much easier to hold than the usual slop you’re faced with when tackling Neapolitan pizzas.
The sourdough flavour of the crust was there, but this time it was subtle enough to not overpower the overall ensemble.
The mozzarella was amazing, clearly of high quality, with huge chunks generously spread around the base. When biting, you get nice long strings stretching between the slice and your mouth, which I always childishly enjoy.
The tomato sauce was fresh tasting and sweet, with the star of the show here being the use of fresh oregano in place of basil, which made it fucking pop.
I could not believe how much better this was than I’d remembered- this was revelatory. It was so good that I couldn’t even eat it quickly- my body forced me to eat it slowly and enjoy it, which, for me, is not usual. It really goes to show how much better pizza can be if the ingredients that go into it are of a better quality than the usual mass produced stuff.
🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕
That’s right. 5/5. Seriously, one of the best pizzas I have ever had.
Cheers, Con
Pizza on Earth 