I tried to make pizza dough once. My housemates found me pressed up against the kitchen counter with my arms configured as a wide circular wall – the only thing stopping a tsunami of sticky, floury, watery gloop covering the immediate area.
It’s perhaps because of this trauma that I admire the accomplishment of a good pizza. That and places like Pizza East, that is.
After finding myself and fragrant girlfriend in Portobello Road ahead of a friend’s birthday, Foursquare was suggesting a typically lacklustre selection of chip shops and Starbuckses.
But then, out of the shadows, emerged one last tasty hope. The newest (and most geographically poorly named) branch of Pizza East. Open for 3 weeks or so at the time of writing, this transplant of the formula created in Shoreditch is a bit like a more interesting Pizza Express.
Read on for highlights and another ‘pizza’ the puzzle (mamma mia.)