Take Another Little Pizza My Heart

I often ask waitresses about the House Pink, follow it up with a genital-based pun and then we can get on with the order. With the good Lady Monte in tow my off-colour innuendo is beginning to seem inappropriate, but I can’t stop myself. Tits.

I managed to button it down for a trip to Pizza East (http://www.pizzaeast.com/pizza-east-portobello) last night where Lady M and I celebrated our last week of freedom singledom prior to the abyss bliss of marriage. I’ve already done Italy, but it’s been a while since I posted and I’ve not been to any new restaurants so I thought I’d take the opportunity to give the masses what they want: pure, uncut, raw, to the knuckle Charlie.

The Pizza East in Portobello is delightfully appointed, trying to recreate the rustic homeliness of a Neapolitan trattoria. But it doesn’t have wifi so wtf. The staff are extremely nice and helpful, so I didn’t begrduge them their 12.5% service charge, but it still irks me.

The important thing is the food (come for the comical banter stay for the penetrating insight). We shared the Clam/fennel sausage/verdicchio starter and fought over who got to lick the plate. Then the pizza. I went for the Guanciale (I thought he played for West Ham), stracchino and leek pizza and she went for pork belly pizza. Leek seems like a curious thing to put on a pizza, but it was a revelation: combining the warm sweetness of onion and the subtler flavour of baby garlic it not only belongs on a pizza, but belongs in my mouth. I be longing for it. But the show stopper was the cripsy pork belly pizza. To be honest, it almost seems like pizza researchers have given up trying to innovate and are just using the pizza base as a vehicle for other stuff I like. I’m waiting for the hoisin duck pizza. The pig flesh, complete with actual cracklinglingling, was cracking to be sure, but it didn’t really feel like pizza.

Me and her got through plenty of wine, but what somewhat detracts from a place that is trying to recreate the feel of small town Italy is the Noma-scale tab (£90) at the end of proceedings. Why didn’t we go Dutch? Or eat Dutch. Tits.

Not even the real Italy is this rustic and authentic. Those idiots.

Not even the real Italy is this rustic and authentic. Those idiots.

Do clams feel clammy?

Do clams feel clammy?

Leek pizza. The Welsh national dish.

Leek pizza. The Welsh national dish.

Pork Belly Pizza. What's next? The Fry-Up Pizza? Wait there ... TRADEMARK! That's Charlie's idea.

Pork Belly Pizza. What’s next? The Fry-Up Pizza? Wait there … TRADEMARK! That’s Charlie’s idea.

This is, by a country mile, the worst photograph I've taken for this blog. And my loyal readers will know this is an ambitious claim.

This is, by a country mile, the worst photograph I’ve taken for this blog. And my loyal readers will know this is an ambitious claim.

Pizza East Portobello
310 Portobello Road
London
W10 5TA
Tel: 0208 969 4500
http://www.pizzaeast.com/pizza-east-portobello

 

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One comment

  1. Reblogged this on misentopop.

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