He was late anyway. I hadn’t thought of what my ‘or else’ would be yet. Maybe I’ll eat his pizza. Or spit on it.
Thankfully I’m a nice person. And me being on time meant I got to chat to the lovely guys working behind the pizza bar (all Italian, of course) and run around taking pictures. My appetite and pizza cravings were building up very rapidly.
And it wasn’t just the pizza that was looking good. They had a lot of treats on display for me to drool over as well.
Mama’s gonna dip her pizza in some garlic herb sauce, just you wait.
Also, I discovered their gelato fridge next to the pizza bar. They had all the best flavours – hazelnut, coffee, even peanut butter. Is it socially acceptable to eat a cheeky pot of peanut butter gelato whilst I wait for boy?
No, no. I couldn’t fill myself up before I’ve had the goods. I distracted myself with the pizza menu instead, since I knew it was going to take me a while to decide what I wanted. Otherwise I’m that annoying person who keeps changing their mind and panicking when the waitress is emerging. Yeah, sorry to about everyone who’s ever eaten with me.
God I’m impatient. I was ready to eat. I could have popped my order in a takeaway box and been on my way by now.
You can get takeaway, delivery or eat in. When you eat in, they pass you a buzzer and it bleeps like a girl trapped in a dutch oven when it’s ready. Which is pretty damn quickly (less than 10 minutes) in their traditional stone pizza oven.
Boy arrived and there was prosecco to celebrate. Not him arriving, but the fact that I would be eating very, very soon.
We went up to the bar to order, and before you know it, my buzzer was bleeping away and I was up and at it. Pizza, come to mama!
Boy went for his favourite, Stagioni – tomato sauce, mozzarella, cotto ham, pepperoni, mushrooms, artichoke and black olives.
I saw ‘egg’ and I was sold. The Fiorentina it was – tomato sauce, mozzarella, parmesan, egg, black olives and fresh spinach.
It was a beauty.
Hello, artisan 12″ pizzas. There wasn’t much time to waste.
Both pizzas were so good. The fact that they were both under 6 pounds each is absolutely ridiculous. The value for money is just insane.
What did I say about that garlic herb sauce? Slap dat right on.
The pizzas were inhaled and I was a stuffed little piggy. Well, not that stuffed – I mean, who can’t squeeze in dessert? I can’t let my readers down, now can I?
I went over to the pizza guys to ask what was good, and the response I got was “oh no, I was preparing a surprise for you two already!” I felt so bad that I’d spoilt the surprise, but how sweet were they!? I ran back to the table and got comfy in my seat, although I could barely sit still – like a kid waiting for Santa to arrive. Then there it was – The Dolce, a dough ring filled with Nutella and mascarpone.
We cut that baby open and let everything ooze out. God, it was good.
Luckily it was big enough for us not to fight over it. Because we all know there’d only be one winner. And we all know who that would be.
We left to meet people for drinks at Shoreditch House, and look what street was directly outside of Pizza Union!
Debatably the best location in the world. Imagine having that as your address. Can I live there, please?