peacer

Peacer, Moseley, September 2020

Peacer have a wine machine and that’s enough inspiration for me to write about them again. It won’t be a big post, nor should it be. Just a brief love letter to one of my favourite places in my old home. That’s Moseley, not Peacer. I never lived in Peacer, despite trying to claim squatters rights on numerous occasions.

They’ve reopened. It took them a while. Inside not much has changed other than the length of Jack’s hair, which lockdown has created a mane of, and the small matter of a wine machine. Have I mentioned the wine machine? All natural from Wine Freedom, it fits the tone of the space perfectly. Not only do they do pizza by the slice but they now do wine by the glass. Clever guys. Buy a card, pop a card in machine, press size of wine you want. Drink. Repeat. The wines were great. Accessible. Interesting. Youthful.

The pizza is still New York style by the slice. Great big things that need two hands to successfully control. The ‘Smokey’ is very good, the ‘Hot’ with hot honey is even better. Those in the know head straight to ‘Tangy’ with blue cheese, crispy onions, and the house buffalo sauce. It’s one of my favourite things to eat in Birmingham. Always, and I repeat always, ask for a pot of that sauce on the side. I think the tomato and mozzarella salad is new, and goes down very well. It’s simple and well executed.

It’s been a year to the day that we viewed the house in Harborne and I saw the look in Claire’s eyes. I knew then it was the right thing to up and move us, away from the parties, and to a quieter part of town. It’s been a good move us. But for all of its faults I miss Moseley. How one pint on a Wednesday night ends up in someone’s house drinking until daybreak. The ad hoc Zindiya meals and free scallops from Flakes chippy. Miss shopping in Nima Stores and then feeling sad because something so pure can’t last forever. Miss Little Blackwood, and the garden of The Prince, and Joe whipping out a bottle of rum for us to neck in The Dark Horse when he probably should be taking money from us. I miss how the top ranked hotel in the area was our sofa and came with direct access to a free bar. I miss the Tangy from Peacer, so much so that we purchase another four slices to take home with us, before swearing that we’ll go back once a month to make a night of it. Moseley ain’t perfect, but then neither am I. Did I mention that Peacer has a wine machine?

After all that wine we needed to get an A2B home.

Peacer, Moseley

Some friends of ours told me a story about the origin of Peacer. Allegedly two friends were sending messages to one another after a big night out, both craving pizza to cure them of their hangover. The story continues with them not being able to get the type of pizza they wanted, whereupon they made a pact to open their own pizza shop. It took three years from that point to open Peacer, a new space in half of what used to be the ill-fated Starfish and Coffee on a burgeoning Woodbridge Rd that is fast becoming the food hub of Moseley. Is it true? Well, I have no idea, but I certainly hope so. Restaurants born out of friendship, passion, and silly ideas may be the accountants worst nightmare, though to me it’s brilliant. If you want a New York style slice shop, why not open one? It’s an attitude so fantastically up-and-at-them they could actually be in NYC. Except they are in Moseley, where the people are nicer and a little bit more smelly.

Now let’s keep this real short. Did I like Peacer? Yes I did, Dear Reader, quite a bit actually. I like what they have done with the place, which is both minimalist and practical with petrol blue walls and wooden tables of various shades. I like that they have looked at the small details hard, coming to the right conclusion that every table should have a bottles of Pip’s hot sauce, even if this is optimistic about the honesty of humans. I like that they are doing something different. The premise is simple; large slices of pizza by the slice, five options a day, at £3.50 each. This isn’t the soupy Neapolitan style doing the rounds at the moment that billows hot air from puffed-up crusts, but one that was born in the US of A, like Bruce Springsteen and obesity. The texture is more one dimensional, fillings go from the centre right to the edge, and those crusts are more like crimps. I try three slices, of which I like them all in varying degrees. Perhaps unsurprisingly it is one containing pineapple I like the least, though the sweetcorn and spring onion give it a brightness I wasn’t expecting. I thought the chilli and hot honey one would be my favourite, though as good as it was, it was the halloumi with smoked cheddar that I almost went back for seconds of. This is inspired; sweet and smokey, rife with fatty notes cut through with just a little red onion. £3.50 for a slice? Give me the entire wheel and cancel my meetings for the rest of the day. And pour me another pint of Tiny Rebel whilst you’re at it.

Now we’re going to have to discuss the elephant in the room. The more observant of you may have noticed the lack of meat in the above. I never questioned it, but it would appear that Peacer have opened a vegetarian pizza slice and beer bar without ever saying they are vegetarian. Now I kind of have to point this out because I know some of you can’t operate without a bit of meat in your mouth, but having lived with a vegetarian for six years I was happy about it. These pizzas simply don’t need meat; they are considered, carefully constructed, and, most importantly, really tasty. I can see myself coming here a lot, probably mid-walk from The Prince to The Dark Horse, maybe on the way home for a sneaky slice on the nights we are going to eat boring – sorry, I mean healthy – food. One thing is absolutely sure: in a city saturated with pizza, Peacer is the ideal fit for this particular neighbourhood.

8/10

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