By Kate Gaskill, Second Year, BA Modern Languages (German and Ab Initio Italian)
I’ve had good pizza, I’ve had bad pizza, I’ve had really shit pizza. I’ve eaten it in a cosy candel-lit trattoria in the south of Italy, and from a wobbly tablecloth clad-table on the cobblestones of Rome. I’ve had Detroit style, Neapolitan, the New York style slice, gobbled down bready wedges from a kebab shop on the Magaluf strip: think angry browned cheese and unidentifiable meat under neon lights.
When I worked as a waitress at a pizza restaurant, starving, I’d sometimes have an untouched slice off a plate I’d cleared away. It was a dark period in my life, okay? My point is: pizza is universal, transferable, it’s a language everyone understands. And although you know a fantastic pizza when you have it (light chewy crust, deep and rich sauce, blistered salty cheese) for me, it’s the experience, the moment at which the only food you want in the world is pizza, that really sticks in my mind.
It’s for this reason that student deals, already essential in my mind for the most financially burdened and perennially hungover proportion of society, are no more appropriate than when they concern Italy's most recognizable dish. Eating out is (rightly) expensive, but students shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of supporting a struggling hospitality industry. Don’t limit yourself to a dominos and a warm litre of chicken wine. You’re better than that.
Instead try Pazzo, part of the Bianchi’s Empire, which is doing a ten quid dish and drink deal (wine and beer are practically encouraged). Their name means crazy, and, honestly, you should take them at their word. Because being sat down at a stylishly decorated table in a cosy dining room, with twinkling lights and a cold glass of dry white, only a madman would guess that all it costs you is a tenner.
Service is friendly, not patronising or - worse - awkward, like that Hinge date you wish you’d never agreed to. My friend and I were able to chat and eat in peace, without constant badgering asking for feedback on the food or another drinks order. Things felt relaxed and simple: we had come to eat in their gaff, and they were going to bring us some very nice food.
And low and behold: my suspicions were confirmed. Whoever found those chefs in that kitchen did well to hide them in this little corner of Whiteladies road because they can emulsify a pasta sauce like nobody’s business. We had a pizza and a pasta to share from a choice of two for each. A perfectly al dente rigatoni luxuriated in a black pepper spiked sauce like a fancy speckled egg. Soft drifts of pecorino and a sprinkling of freshly ground pepper like tiny spicy rubble confirmed this to be amongst the best I’d ever had.
After this knock out the pizza achieved mere supporting status, but still a class act. A nicely risen blackened crust, light and fresh tomato sauce and islands of cheese caught by the oven: as fine and floppy as a silk slipper. We’d chosen the special in favour of a marg: punchy purple pickled onions fought, and won, against the mortadella, which was fine. The pesto was obviously fresh and a green foil to the meat and cheese feast.
Kate Gaskill
Having sipped the wine like adults, we devoured this feast like Dickensian urchins at a soup kitchen. All the while soft music played, and the few tables there seemed equally as engrossed in the other menu items on offer. They do polenta fritti, steamed mussels, a beef shin lasagne. It goes without question that the lunch deal is advisable to most, but I really think you’ll be back for dinner too.
Featured Image:'Pazzo' | Epigram / Kate Gaskill<\small>
Will you go to Pazzo?
