By Kate Gaskill, First Year, BA Modern Languages (German and Ab Initio Italian)
Compared to the obvious charms of Clifton, say, or the vibrant diversity of Stokes Croft, Bristol city centre can feel a bit, well, soulless. But if you’re into food, it actually has a hell of a lot to offer – if you know where to go.
Everyone and their mum has told me about Gigi’s, right down to my Italian conversation assistant who at that time had only just arrived in the UK. I finally found myself beneath their brightly striped awning last week, and from the get-go you sense a kind of laid back efficiency that makes you want to be part of whatever it is they’re offering. Spoiler alert: it’s amazing pizza.
After being invited to ‘take a pew’, I started with a fizzy pineapple soda, chosen from an interesting assortment of ‘softs’, which arrived in a frosted glass tankard complete with straw – a nice touch few places bother with these days. This delivered on its description, but if you want something stronger there’s also wine and beer.
You can eat in, like we did, but Gigi’s also does a brisk takeaway trade to a wide clientele: students, pensioners, builders on their break, united by a common desire for a lunchtime slice. Speaking of which, there soon appeared on our table a kind of dustbin lid arranged with four triangle-shaped works of art. Cautionary note: two are more than enough for one person, but I went above and beyond – for research purposes. Sitting right outside the shop window, where a team member was deftly shaping and dressing dough, I hoped she wouldn’t notice the extravagance of my selection from the alluring menu.
And alluring that menu is, yet it’s compact and pointedly unrepresentative: if you want a Hawaiian, get thee to Pizza Express. The ‘Ragù’ was a strong start, a perfectly crisp base just about supporting crispy islands of tender beef shin, all scattered with hard, salty cheese. The ‘Tapenade’ slice made its entrance with basil sauce liberally drizzled over a layer of olive pâté. Everything feels deliberately done yet in a chilled-out kind of way. Like, yeah, we make olive pâté and basil sauce: what of it? A friendly shrug. The ‘Cacio e Pepe’ – an homage to a Roman pasta classic – was an unassuming winner: intensely savoury, with a gentle heat coming from the accurate addition of pepper.
The ‘Margherita’ was fine, although the sauce was slightly too sweet for me. There were also some pleasing dips – a garlic and herb and the like – but honestly they just take up prime pizza real estate: they’re not necessary. What was necessary, however, was the 'Pistachio Tiramisu'. It then that I was given my first piece of cutlery: up to that point it had been, rightly, hand to gob. Served rustically in a plastic pot, the sponge fingers were properly soaked in a coffee solution that hit the desired note of sweetness. And take it from a pistachio-mania sceptic, the nutty paste really worked here.
I chatted to the owner, Raph, in between takes of a video he was filming to promote a new pizza. Gigi’s was born of a ‘give it a go’ attitude, he explained, that just rolled with their success. Having started out in a tiny shopfront with a second-hand oven, they’ve now expanded next door with brand new equipment and routinely work with other Bristol institutions. As well as being a valued member of the lively culinary community, Michelin-starred establishment Root held their Christmas party here, and the owner of super-cool pop-up The Scrandit is no stranger. But, Raph insists, their core values are unchanged. The same former Whapping Wharf fishmonger comes to make their pizza dough after he’s dropped his kid off at school and leaves in time for pick-up in the afternoon.
Kate Gaskill
Leaving Gigi’s, I felt genuinely buoyed by vibes (which Raph had encouraged me to soak up) and the manifest enjoyment of its customers. Just as she was leaving, a woman stopped to tell him that her upcoming trip to New York pizza institution Lombardi’s had been rendered unnecessary: the best pizza was right here in Bristol. And I can confide that pizza I’ve had in Italy is not automatically magically better either. I’m sure Raph appreciated her compliment, but Gigi’s aren’t competitive, nor are they precious about their brilliant food.
Featured Image: Epigram / Annabel Bienfait
