I’m not a fan of regret but after filling in my list yesterday I couldn’t help but remember all those things I left out.
How could I have forgotten my beloved sweater dresses, the record shop scene in Before Sunrise, seeing the coastline of the country from a plane, the beautiful ban.dos, watching snow falling, thunderstorms, my daily dose of The Daily Nice, there are so many things. Well I suppose I had to stop somewhere, I’m sorry to all my forgotten loves, you are just as precious to me as blueberry jam and real butter slathered on real bread with a big glass of milk on the side.
So, anyway, back to the list of loves and more specifically back to number 61, good pizza, or as we call it, Firezza. It can be quite hard to find good pizza here. When I was little pizza was either frozen from the supermarket, made at home on a Boboli base, from Pizza Hut or Pizzaland, or, if you were a bit more posh (and I'm talking late '80's here), Pizza Express. Pizza Express still reigns supreme as source of decent enough pizza that you can eat in nice enough surroundings. We used to find ourselves going quite often.
But then we would go to New York and swoon over the wood fired bases, we would go to France and wish the pizza vans (with wood burning stove inside the van) would make it over the Channel, we would, in short, suffer from extreme pizza jealousy. Then we moved to London.
I, probably rightly, have developed a suspicion of leaflets for takeaway places that drop through the door. But one day we got a pizza leaflet through the door. We have a perfectly okay pizza place on our street but it is just that, okay. This place sounded, if all of their soundbites were to be believed, good. We looked, we ummed about the slightly expensive prices, we decided to order, we waited our 30 or so minutes, our pizzas arrived and the immediate judgement was that they were very very very good. We ordered again, and now they had our address which made it all dangerously easy. So dangerously easy that we have ordered pizza from Firezza at least every other week since first trying them, we are yet to be disappointed.
Tonight we sat, we enjoyed a bottle of red, we ate our pizzas, and we didn't cookalong with Gordon...
But for all this I still don’t trust leaflets for takeaways that come through the door.