Last night I had some of the best pizza I've had in my life - and that includes the pizza I've had in Italy. It was a little place in West Hampstead (completely packed, by the way - on a Tuesday). It came on a wooden board one metre long, with four different topping combinations along its length. The flavours were exciting, the ingredients clearly fresh and considered.
Many times I have sworn never to eat at Pizza Express again, and I'm pretty good at sticking to that now. I only ate there the other day because I was at the Dean Street branch where you have to eat to see the Jazz. But apart from that, I will never eat there again. The pizza I had last night was so much better, and the atmosphere of the place so much more convivial, that I could never go back to the bland, soulless, tastless, slimy, tiny, grumpy pizzas of Pizza Express.
If you want some pizza, go to West Hampstead. Give me a ring and we'll go together. Otherwise you won't know where to go, will you?