By my usual rambling standards this is going to be a very short one. I’ve been in London a lot recently; work, if you really can call it that, and I had a list, a lengthy scribble of places I wanted to eat at, dotted across the city like measles on a school trip. Pizza Pilgrim is the first of these, a quick 9.30pm visit in Soho after a trip to Termini for a negroni or four. I get shown down the stairs into the basement where the walls are adorned with stylised prints and the tables covered in the green check of plastic sheets. A large glass of red and away we go.
The pizza is good, very good even. Thick, chewy crust with blistered edges; middle just loose enough to qualify for the cast of Love Island. Straight outta Naples though with more generosity on the fillings. Loads of pepperoni with a good measure of ‘nduja ordered on top. Sure the dough could have done with a little more character, but this is a solid 8/10 all day long. The same cannot be said for the side of meatballs drowned in the same tomato sauce as the pizza, which here hasn’t been cooked down enough. The pork and beef meatballs are too tightly packed and it’s all a bit sad and bouncy, like a drunk aunt on a child’s bouncy castle. I leave almost all of it and focus on the pizza.
The bill for this is not much over twenty-five pounds, which, in the scheme of London felt good value. Pizza Pilgrim was recommended by a friend of mine, and whilst I’d seek out their pizzas again, it would be that and that only on the order.