Tag Archives: pizza

Taking away habits

I just realised I’ve ordered takeaway on a weekday for the first time in… well, possibly this year. That, for me, is a pretty big thing as I was always one to find any excuse to order dodgy, overpriced food using the internet (because I don’t want to have to talk to people) on any day of the week.

T’would appear that whole thing about forgetting about things, or getting out of the habit does indeed ring true. T’would also appear it was easier than I expected it to be to get out of said habit – the only thing I needed to do was not do it.

Can’t preach, anyway, as I’ve given in and ordered a pizza. Shut up, I’m hungry and a diet of rice and beans is annoying me. I have a spare tenner from not going out this weekend (yes, that logic works) and I wanted to see if this new pizza place is anything like as good as Pitza Cano.

It won’t be. It won’t be.

Still, I can hope. And now I play the waiting game. And I drink tea. And I wonder if I should play Udraw Something Something Whatever It’s Called for a bit. And I run out of vaguely pointed things to say in this blog.

And so I stop writing.

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The salty hangover

I awoke this morning with something I haven’t knowingly experienced before. I have experienced it, as… well, I just clearly have. There’s no way I haven’t. The more I think about it, the more I realise that yes, I did experience it but I always ignored it, didn’t notice it or it just didn’t generally register because I felt so shitty all the time anyway.

The pizza hangover.

I did not drink yesterday. It’s why I’m so thirsty all the time (copyright Rik Mayall). But I had no booze. I had some coffee, some tea, some Diet Coke (sorry), but no alcohol. I had a pizza, as I had forgotten to bother cooking (Skyrim) and Papa John’s had mailed me some stupid offer (marketing works).

I had a massive pizza.

I have been eating healthily for the last year – at least in general. I have lost over three stone. I do not now have takeaway three nights running, as I might have done on more than one occasion in Leeds. And Preston. And Manchester.

And Bournemouth.

As such, I have been what some might call ‘reasonably healthy-feeling’, to the point where it’s just normal to feel normal now. Eating a full pizza to yourself, apparently, has some negative effects come morning time.

I awoke feeling genuinely like I had hangover, sans-nausea. The incredibly dry mouth, the painful head, the lack of balance (less hangover, more natural Dransfield) – it all pointed to a night on the tiles.

But it was just a pizza. A mere (massive) pizza (also some potato wedges because SHUT UP THAT’S WHY).

To be honest, it’s done quite a good job of convincing me to not do that again. I mean, if they make you feel like that just by eating one, what the fuck is in them? Pizza people: start lacing your food with something like heroin and we can talk again.

For now? I’m off them. Until next time I go to Leeds and get a Cano, obviously.

0 of 14 catch up entries to go. Thank fuck.

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Pitza Cano: an appreciation

What’s the best takeaway you’ve ever had? Mine is pizza, from a little pizzeria in Hyde Park, Leeds. It sits across the road from the World Famous Hyde Park Picture House (note: not world famous) and is called Pitza Cano. Yes, that spelling is correct.

I can’t claim to have eaten takeaway pizza from everywhere in the world – note I’m talking takeaway, not restaurant. Make the distinction. But yes, I haven’t eaten everywhere. Hard as that is to believe. But I’ve eaten a fair few places, and the best pizza I’ve had – from a takeaway – was from Cano.

It wasn’t even anything fancy – just pizzas made from scratch in front of your eyes, brushed with a little oil on the crust once finished. They just did them right. And deliciously. And OH the calzones. God they were great. I mean, Pietro’s in Parkgate was great, but Cano blew them out of the water.

And I haven’t been able to find any other takeaway anywhere I’ve lived that does pizza as good. I don’t consider Domino’s, Pizza Hut or Papa John’s actual good pizza. It’s production line crap, though obviously not as bad as seemingly every other takeaway in the country. Fucking processed bases, shitty quality toppings and undercooked rubbish produced at the end of it.

I despair, I really do. Also I want a pizza. Any ACTUAL GOOD places in Bournemouth? You realise if you recommend somewhere that uses pre-prepared bases, super-cheap ham or a bad mixture of cheddar and mozzarella I am going to have you killed. Consider yourselves warned.

I’ve heard they’ve gone to shit recently, and this saddens me. But I’m still going to be paying them a visit when I’m in Leeds in July. Be rude not to, even if they do ruin my life by actually having gone shit.

[This article was modified 27 May as the author had erroneously claimed Pietro’s pizzeria was located in Rawmarsh. It is in fact Parkgate. The article has been changed accordingly. We apologise for any distress caused as a result of this mistake.]

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San Francisco: the definitive review (7/10)

This was meant to go up yesterday? Today? I don’t know when. Yesterday, I think. But it seems the glare of the sun around poolside in San Diego meant I missed clicking the ‘publish’ button. There will be another entry, for today, shortly.

The second destination on my whistle-stop rock lord megatour of North America led our party to San Francisco. Or, as the locals call it: “El Hillo Liberalo”. But what did I think of the place I have cunningly entitled “The City I Can’t Come Up With A Stupid Nickname For, Apart From The One I Just Used Before”? Read on, oh readist.

I am from a small town in the north of England. It is surrounded by fields, woodlands and other such countryish stuff. It is small, and most people know the business of each other. Where I live now isn’t much better, to be honest. San Francisco is one of those American places that has really big buildings and stuff*, so it was a little bit overwhelming for my tiny mind. Still, with the help of those more experienced in its ways I managed to go on one of the trams without falling off and/or dying. I did get told off by the driver though.

San Francisco is hilly. These hills were actually invented by Mormon invaders in the 1880s, after they were insulted by the original inhabitants of the city: people called Francisco McSansan. These hills were put there solely to annoy people, but over the last three years have taken on a whole new identity with both locals and visitors to the large town, turning into more of a character-building element and something people call “an interesting thing about the city”.

Anyway, I was impressed with what San Francisco had to offer. It was suitably American, pleasant, had good food (especially pizza) and some of the most creative tramps I’ve ever seen. While it was disappointing to find the seals had buggered off somewhere else, those remaining were comical enough to raise a smile. Also (we didn’t go there, but still) Alcatraz is terrifying.

7/10

*Full disclosure: I’d never been to the US before this trip.

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