The mobile version of the Breadstall website reads like a list of people who would actually turn me off going to a restaurant. There’s Dave Portnay, a man so belligerently American that Sophie refused to believe it wasn’t a parody when I showed her one of his videos of him talking down everything bar himself, and Food Review Club whose main ability seems to be chowing down on anything greasy in all weather conditions and charging £1500 for it. They have a video of Eating With Todd eating with his mouth open in-between liking Nigel Farage tweets, and someone called ‘Mike M’ who could be Magic Mike or Mike and The Mechanics or the guitarist from Pearl Jam. I do not trust the opinion of any of these people other than maybe Mike and The Mechanics. And then there is a new quote from Jay Rayner, new because his review is one week old when we eat. I like Jay, he eats with his mouth closed and waits until he is finished before talking. Nice guy. Big feet. Big hair. The first time he emailed me I responded with “what have I done now?” because I couldn’t believe it was him. I trust his reviews; have to really since he was the first real food critic I fully became immersed in the writing style of. He said that Breadstall is his new favourite pizza, or at least I trust that he did, as it’s hidden behind a FT paywall and I’m not paying for that. If Jay says it’s great then it must be worth a visit.
They do London style pizza, which is made-up but essentially consists of a sourdough (or hybrid dough) that is crispy on the base like New York style, though typically has an aerated crust that’s more malleable than a group of bloggers on a PR trip. The counter looks the part, with levels of oversized pies, and the process is a simple thing of queuing-up, ordering the pizza in either quarters, halves, or full. You pay and then you find somewhere to sit. Three different quarter slices, one ‘nduja dip, one can of Ting, £28. The pricing is spot on.
Now is it worthy of the hype? I’m not so sure. It’s a nice pizza. Nice like finding a fiver in your coat pocket. Nice like a Norah Jones album. Nice like a takeaway delivery turning up early. Nice like being able to leave work an hour early on a Friday. Nice. The base is crispy with a crust that is fat and demands dipping. The pick is the vodka marinara which is perky and has a freshness to the tomato sauce. The combination of pepperoni, candied jalapenos, and hot honey is a sure-fire hit, even if that sure-fire has been seen and done a million times by now. I can’t get behind the beef ragu with mushrooms because the ragu is clumsily made and just tastes of tomato puree, with clunky onions, and mushrooms that are secreting water faster than a ginger in the desert. My – sorry, our – biggest issue is that it quickly becomes tedious to eat. We don’t finish it. It’s too bready, too much crust, too much of the parmesan and dried herbs combo, even when dulled out by the ‘nduja mayo that needs way more of the spicy sausage. I expect I’ll be back at some point to grab a slice on the go when out drinking in Soho for the day, but the best? You may have your favourite, no way is this mine.
7/10
