Who comes up with all this fiction just for a restaurant? This is the persuasive language Oliver’s people have generated for his latest project:

“Ours is a union of ideas, traditions, and of people.”

“Where wood-fired flatbreads meet great British flavours.”

Lookintomyeyeslookintomyeyes.

What’s with the wonky name – why not just call it Union or Union Jack. Is this meant to be ironic? I don’t get it. The ambiguity with the plural form (or misplaced punctuation) is the restaurant equivalent of the 2012 Olympics logo.

In spite of the spin, this really is just a pizzeria. It’s billed as some kind of ground breaking bastardisation of the humble Italian pie, by the hand of Jamie’s very Bri’ish style and nicknamed as Flatbreads. As if one could reinvent something simply by calling it something else. I do like the ‘Gary Baldy’ biscuit, however. I’d like to think these concepts were the result of a complicated brain storming session by a think tank of consultants locked in a meeting room and eating nothing but pizza to precipitate ideas.

Back in the real world, this union is a partnership between Jamie Oliver and Pizza Maestro Chris Bianco. This Central St Giles location being the pilot for a upcoming franchise, which (presumably) pending the success of this branch, will spread throughout London and the rest of the country in the next couple of years.

Bad naming aside, I think the rest of this restaurant however is brilliantly conceived. The decor is spot-on. Few restaurants come in pink, this one is so colourfully retro, it feels like a fifities diner which has been lifted out from Archie comics. I especially like the cinema billboard style overhead menus above the open plan kitchen. Speaking of which, you can sit by the bar and watch the chefs stuff the wood-fire ovens with bubbling pizza dough. Picture this : solo dining, malted milkshake, by the bar, reading 1Q84 Part III. And then Betty Draper walks in wearing a neat black and blue pokka dot, body hugging, knee high dress with a big blue bow as a belt. She decides to locks eyes with you, as she undoes her elbow length white gloves. (Huh?)

It’s clear that Jamie’s people have astutely noted the current trend of un-ceremony and retro flair. This place is so back to the future, so infectiously a happy place, that you can’t help but smile when you come in. Service was so terribly friendly and forward that I just wanted to give my waitress a big hug every time she brought me some food. She was blonde, was very nice to me without crossing waiter-customer lines and she may have fooled me into believing it was.. love.

By-Catch Fish Fingers & Tartare Sauce, £5 with Roobarb & Custard, £5.50.

The Captain would’ve been proud of these fish fingers, flaky, crumbly, can’t say they were best but they were nostalgic with gooey batter coating the undersides of the crust.

The real eye-whopper was the roobarb and custard – great drink! I can hardly believe it contains alcohol, but apparently it is made with Chase’s Rhubarb Liqueur. That’s a distillery in Hereford which makes vodka from potatoes which they grow themselves. An interesting story, they sold their first bottles in 2008. For this liqueur, they laced their vodka with rhubarb from the area. The rest of the drink was finished like a spritzer with Union Jack’s in-house apple and cinnamon drink. It’s like an apple strudle flavoured cream soda! Addictive.

Flatbread, Oxtail & brisket, slow braised in Worcestershire sauce, Sparkenhoe Red Leicester, watercress & fresh horseradish £12

Ah, here we go, the flatbread. Well, well, isn’t she a sight for sore eyes. The Betty Draper of pizzas, look at those beautiful burnt spots and the perfect oval shapeliness, the tussled watercress with flaming red stems. Is your blood racing yet? The flatbread was still sizzling when it came. Freshly grated horseradish produced stinging eye-watering fumes and breathing in all the flavours nearly knocked me out. The dough is somewhere between the juicy Franco Manco dough and the powdery Pizza East semolina base, I liked it fine. Generous flosses of tender oxtail and brisket with full bodied winter stew flavour was extremely pleasing. I have to say, the sharpness of the melted red leicester did give the impression that this was not just a pizza, but that it had beenlocalised as an ‘English’ pizza. I gobbled it up very quickly, and I really wanted to have another one.

Retro Arctic Roll, £4 and Home made Earl Grey Tea Ice Cream, £1.50 per scoop.

Oh man, pure nostalgia. This was a treat for me when I was growing up. I think my mum bought the Bird Eyes ones which came with this cream flavoured ice cream centre and thin swirls of jam. This version is just as frozen, but has additional swirls of chocolate ice cream. The blackberry jam it came smothered in, with was very good, but the frozen pudding was no where close to replicating my favourite memories.

The home-made earl grey tea and biscuit ice cream, on the other hand, was bloody fantastic. It’s frozen cream tea and biscuits! Served in a frosted copper ice cream cup! Also retro! The best £1.50 I’ve spent all year, this is the dessert of the year for me.

But here’s an idea, an alternate version of the artic roll with the excellent earl grey tea ice cream. I recommend they call it “Kang’s flamin’ tea flavour arctic roll”.

I paid exactly £30, plus an espresso. Service was at my discretion so I put in an extra £2.

Ok I admit. The think tank wins. The British theme is a charmer, I’m totally into the Union thing now. The flatbreads are of excellent quality, and the British toppings do work. Oxtail, horseradish work just as well as egg and potatoes on pizza. I think that stronger English hard cheeses when melted produce some game changing flavours, as compared with relatively mild mozzarella. I am intrigued with the potential of the other choices. The Old spot with pork shoulder, quince and stilton sounds like it could be immense. So too the seafood option of cornish sardines with fennel.

His other partnership, Barbecoa was shambles, but this one is going to be a winning franchise. It’s very likeable and upbeat, I predict Union Jacks invading the high street, and eventually superseding Pizza Express.

The Gist of It

Union Jacks
The Flatbread formerly known as Pizza. £25pp
4 Central St. Giles Piazza
LONDON
WC2H 8AB
Tel : 0203 597 7888
Tube: Tottenham Court Road

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And so the legend came to pass, that Otto would become the very first pizzeria in London to crust with cornmeal. Purists (and Italians) will balk at the mention of this heretical abomination, even though the cornmeal base (polenta) is more Chicagoland than Neopolitan. There is no oily, tear resistance, wood-fired sponge in this pizza, rather, one will find that the base takes on a buttery crumble, having more in common with a tart or a quiche than a bona fide DOP.

I like the little corner restaurant, the interior is resourceful, down to their choice of decorative photographs, mere 4x6s rather than eye popping 12x18s. Painted green. It is off the noisier end of Notting Hill Gate, and on the convenient bus route – 328 and 31 – that runs from Kilburn/Camden to High St Ken.

Tom and Rich, the owners, are two ex-city types who decided to swap suits for aprons, becoming inspired after visits to Dove Vivi, a cornmeal pizzeria in Portland, so the story goes. Eventually, they would return to good ol Columbia to learn how to make them, and before long, they were back in London, taking over a closing cafe, install an oven, whip on a fresh lick of paint and call Otto their own.

The better half and yours truly had spent the entire Sunday afternoon cleaning out my old flat in Gloucester Road (Byron, sob, I shall miss you, till you open the next in leafy Queen’s Park) and decided to drop into Otto to give these pioneering pies a try.

The menu is slightly different to the aspiring DOP pizzeria, as a first, they offer pizzas by the slice for £3.50; staff actually warn against ordering a whole one per average human, as it’ll fill you up proper. A half goes for £10, a whole for £18 and this place possesses the most vegan friendly pizza menu I’ve yet encountered. The Aubergine comes with basil, tomato and blue cheese; Balsamic Red Onions and Sweetcorn are garnished with chives and mozzarella; Cashew Cheese with red peppers, in fact the only meat option on the regular menu is the home-made fennel sausage.

We were feeling peckish, so opted for the £18 taster which comes with six different toppings on the same baked crust.

Wait for it …

….and we have lift off..!

Well now, the overly vegetarian-friendly pies have an utter freshness about it; In the place of quesy oiliness is a powdery, cakey and corn-like base that was a welcomed change. It was easy to eat, but man did the crust fill me up quick! Apparently, this is due to the higher fibre content. Zero doughiness, in fact, it is anti-doughy.

I gotta say, I was loving the colourful toppings. The cashew cheese has a spike of spice with the excellently sweet balsamic onions; the pesto and ricotta was pure freshness, but our favourite had to be the home-made fennel sausages. And the roasted cherry tomatoes too… hey I felt ‘healthy’ eating this kind of non-pizza. It’s definitely a refreshing change.

Broccoli, black beans, mushrooms with dijon balsamic vinaigrette , £6

We also ordered the broccoli salad which was excellent too. Fresh.

I didn’t think it tasted like pizza actually, I thought it was more like an oversized tart. Gimmicks aside, the deep-dish pizza has made a wonderful debut in the Big Smoke, it is my first time, and probably a first for you as well. I think it tastes great and it is an intriguing alternative to that Italian stuff we are so used to. I also ordered an affrogato that came with a nutty dollop of hazelnut ice cream to finish. The bill was £28, service not included, and at the discretion of the diner. I think Otto is a great little space, the service is charming, Tom and Rich check back with diners frequently, anxious I suppose, about how their cornmeal pizzas are performing. I think they have little to worry about, the pizzas are great, the atmosphere excels at being laid back and modest, and service is warm as toast.

…I am convinced this stuff is healthier too, but I’m also one of these weirdos who subscribe to the view that a hamburger is a completely balanced diet….

It is probably good to know that the restaurant doesn’t serve alcohol after 6pm on Sundays (so I didn’t get to try their special beers listed on the board), and they seem to be BYO too, but do call to double check.

Great addition, cheap and worth a visit if you’re in the area.

The Gist of It

Otto
Pizza, £10pp
6 Chepstow Road, W2 5BH
Tel: (020) 7792 4088
Tube: Nottinghill Gate

Polenta Express : Laissez Fare ; Gourmet Chick ; Gourmet Traveller ; Young and Foodish ; Guy Dimond for Timeout ; Victoria Stewart for The Evening Standard

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All text and photography on this blogpost is copyright and belongs to Kang Leong, LondonEater.com. If you repost this without my permission, bad things will happen. So please don’t do it.

It wasn’t long ago when pizza was simply a decision of who to call to coincide with prime-time TV. I am referring to the myriad of takeaway menus regularly shoved through the front door of course. I’d always pick the one which sold Haagen Daz ice creams. Pizza being about as far away from pretension and debate as can be, pizza being the ultimate comfort food. These days, it’s a phenomenon unto itself, our critics and bloggers are making startling discoveries, holding aloft neighborhood gems that have somehow managed to stay hidden for decades. Ahem, just to add fuel to the fire, my local hidden gem would be Da Mario’s, my favourite are their house special the ‘Pizza Diana’, once rumoured to be Princess D’s favourite haunt (hence Pizza D) and an atrocity it had not been more widely ‘discovered’ as yet. Being such a common food, it isn’t surprising to see so much commentary and especially such heated opinion regarding the humble pizza, after all, it’s quite rare to find someone not ever experiencing this dish in one form or another. At least not in London.

Our eating habits are indubitably influenced by what our critics and bloggers are fascinated with at their dinner tables. As if we are all merely sheep, engaged in a cyclic, synchronized culture of refuelling our bodies. Period eating no? You know like period corsets, period bellbottoms, period sideburns, period loincloths. Food trends are intriguing to say the least. A not so nice side effect of popularity is that restauranteurs – whilst in pursuit of capitalising on trend – tend to gourmarise trends, or more accurately, PR bods putting a spin on things to up the USP ante. Take our wacky obsession with burgers for instance and observe how it has been elevated to posh-grub status with discerning connoisseurs claiming authenticity, technique and justification to cramp even more between the bun.

Fortunately, unlike the gentrification of burgers, pizza has taken a more traditional route to prominence, particularly with the adherence to its Naples heritage. Or Roman, I should say. There are pretty good pizza outposts in London of course such as Rossopomodoro, Donna Magherita and Franco Manca (now doubly branched), though to be quite honest, I can’t say I’ve had stonkingly memorable pizza, but then I’m not allowed into Italy, but then again, it’s just pizza.

Pizza East doesn’t seek to uphold the Neapolitan heritage, instead the role model is American. Nick Jones, aka Mr Soho House, sought to emulate an L.A. favourite Pizzeria Mozza (which I’ve never been to personally), going as far as to flying some of Mozza’s pizza experts, like Bryant Ng, to consult on the development of Pizza East. So far, it has been a rousing success in terms of public relations. There are a glut of hugely positive reviews floating about, just about every Joe Blogger has waxed lyrical and even Fay Maschler gave Nick Jones a pat on the behind. The venue looks great of course, a massive, brick-laden, rustic environment which is stripped down enough for trendy people to feel utterly likewise while scoffing. Atmosphere is of course crucial if you want to draw in the crowds, especially when you have a nice PR story to explain all that wonderfully restored industrial throw-back detail in what was once a warehouse that stored tea. Exposed pipes, crumbly pillars and metal-topped tables.

I was dining with Garson Byer, the man who would marry the World Foodie Guide, a quick pit-stop before an afternoon’s worth of street photography in the near-by industrially photogenic Hackney area. G (who spent a few years in Italy) informs me that the toppings are meant to be quite authentic such as potato and garlic, as well as the usual compliment of Italian cured meat and leaves. Gnocchi, steak, fishstew and baked bone marrow round out a pretty comprehensive menu, and as it turns out, PE is not just a pizzeria.

We shared two halves of a magherita (£7) and another with courgettes, tomato, mozzarella, taleggio, marjoram (£8).

A purist would argue that the acid-test is in the wood-fire oven, being a matter of how hot it can actually heat the dough up to to achieve the spongy yet crusty base such that one experiences a robust, tear-resistant chew which I generally prefer. Pizza East is antithesis, but in a good way. The puffed-up dough (measuring ten inches in diameter, roughly) was crispy, crackling and dry, stoney rather than juicy, with the semolina grains jumping off the base as I worked my way into the pizza. It was satisfying in the same way that crisps are satisfying. The tomato paste was a little on the thin side though, and mozzarella was only laid on half the pizza, though it tasted good enough.

I avoided the heavier toppings particularly the £12 with veal meatballs since we wanted to be light-footed for the photography exercise to follow, but based on this one visit, I’d return.

I’m hardly the pizza expert, for that, you need to tap the collective wisdom of Tom and Jen at TomEatsJenCooks as well as Daniel at Young and Foodish. Though for what it is worth, Garson enjoyed the crunchy semolina base, and I found it to be generally pleasing as well. However, I don’t think Pizza East is an intense pizza shrine, it’s good, but somehow I can already picture it becoming the new Belgo ten years from today, once it has lost the chic factor. Nevertheless, the foodie republic seem to approve of PE, there are cheaper pizzas in town, but the prices are very competitive in any case. For the money, you can’t go wrong. As with all hype-laden restaurants, don’t expect the roof to be brought down, especially when it’s only baked dough. Do fold your slice before you eat.

The Gist of It

Pizza East Official Site
Pizza, £10 per person.
Tea Building 56 Shoreditch High Street E1 6JJ
Tel: 0207 729 1888
Tube: Liverpool Street Station

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Tap. 12.30pm. Tap. Text. Tap. Oliver Thring. Tap. ‘Just setting off now – see you there.’ Tap. I stopped just outside the market entrance, feeling a little jaded as I attempted to follow my iPhone’s GPS lead. And then, it happened, like a tingle in the gut, I sensed the presence of another ‘one’ who obsesses about the tastes and the smells, like me. Bicycle helmet in hand, sun striking a silhouette against his mean bits (too much?) , he uttered, in deep baritone: “You wouldn’t happen to be… Kang?” Yes folks. It is he. Mr Thring has finally landed. We shake hands like two hungry gentlemen and proceeded to fall in line with the masses who’ve come for a pilgrimage. The pilgrimage to eat the best, damn pizza known to Londoners.

White Pizza

Almost immediately after we met, all we could talk about was food. food. food. So much so that I didn’t mind waiting in line at all. In my short life as a food blogger, I’ve (virtually) met some truly inspirational London foodies who spread their passion for all things edible through their excellent blogs. Doug, Helen and Helen and Lizzie and Niamh, all truly magnetic personalities – you’ll get hungry just following them on Twitter.

There was no better person to stand in the queue with for what is touted as the best in London. As Ollie has already proclaimed – you will queue. And while you wait, you will be looking over the menu of just six choices of pizza. Just as I was taking in the rays of sunshine penetrating the roof and being completely immersed in the lively bustle of the chattering crowd; I was immediately jolted back to the here and now, when he said to us: “Two of you? You will be next.” I can only assume he’s the owner, what with his man in charge stride.

It’s all about the bounce in the dough

I was detoxing this week folks: occupational hazard. We ordered two pizzas, a salad, a lemonade and Ollie had a red and a white plus an espresso and the bill was under £18.00. Seriously? Tasty and cheap, inside my kind of heaven (I do not idolise Ms Underwood).

Yes, it is true, your orders are taken as you are about to sit down, and by then the pizzas  would be ready on your table. 40 ticks in 500C of wood fire. I went with the white one of ricotta, organic pork and mozzarella.

The first cut. Spongy. The sourdough is risen over twenty hours. The first bite. Squidgy. With a rubbery bounce, lively enough that it required abit more bite in your bite to tear it away. The first taste, appetising, really appetising, I am chewing and I am feeling the umami from the dough in my mouth. The first smell. Oh the flavour, you know that crisp, roasted dough that makes your stomach yearn for fulfillment, it was a crunchy bite but the insides were moist, soft and such a joy to chew down on.

Yes, the chorizo is good, the cheese is good but the dough is spot on, it’s really really good.

So much so, words stopped flowing when I was eating there as these were the notes I took: “Spongy. Tear resistant, and…” And? That was it. Forget blogging, I was too busy eating.

Are you spying for Pizza Hut?

That was the most hilarious comment I’ve ever received while photographing my meals. It was a bloke with his family and he followed on by telling us to go back to our pizza hut suits to tell them that this is how Real Pizza is made. And you know, it was in the way he said it, you could hear it in his voice, you could see it in his eyes and you could also see it in his hands as he held his slice – dearly – as he stated his claim. He was proud to be eating there.

The wines by the glass, horrendous. The salad, don’t even bother. But the dough, or should I say, the memory of it was absolutely surreal.

There is no fuss to Franco Manca, no extras and it needs none of the fancy poncy because this is just good pizza. A gem and exactly what food is about: heart and soul.

The Gist of It.

Franco Manca Official Site
4 Market Row Electric Lane, Brixton SW9 8LD
Pizza £6
Verdict: My best experience of the Italian stuff in London, and maybe yours too. Go and eat lots of it.

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Alright, as I write this – the Girls Aloud party is on tv now before the results go live in about 10 minutes. The x-factor marketing vehicle keeps the brand turning with rossopomodoro immortalising the judges by….. pizza. Apparently, the managing director of the italian franchise absolutely loves the show and this was her way of showing her love.

Actually, food at rossopomodoro is not too bad , I’ve got a friend from Rome who says its ‘good italian’ . So there you go, I’ve yet to review the food, but I’ll have Cheryl on my pizza any day.

PS: I’m going to reply the comments to the last two posts shortly.

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