The Italian Pizza (Atlantis food blogger safari Part 4)

Catch up on the first three parts!
– Part 1: I Woman. I Eat Meat.
– Part 2: Cow, cow cow! Mushroom, mushroom! Oh it’s a chicken!
– Part 3: Cheese Trek 



I like how Ronda Locatelli looks. It has this earthy, warm atmosphere, with the dimmed lighting, the woody interiors and the use of warm reds. The use of a central hearth, as it were, helps.

I like what Ronda Locatelli pizzas taste like. Thin, fresh with that nice amount of crunch.



Twirl, whirl, spread and cook. It’s simple. Pizzas are simple. Before I went to the UK in 2009, my idea of what a good pizza should be was very different. Going there opened up my eyes. Or rather my taste buds.

I explored tiny little places, corners of streets where the smallest mom-and-pop store would have better lasagna than that extravagant restaurant on the high street; where eating fish and chips in a tiny village in Yorkshire is better than fast food. Where food, if made right, will taste good, no matter where it is.


He’s proud of that pizza, and he very well should be.


We liked it too. And showed our appreciation:


We were rewarded with some more desserts. For the first time, I experienced the “melt-in-your-mouth” phenomenon as it was meant to literally be. Sharmishtha (who can regularly be found dancing on a stovetop) told me, when I popped the mini tiramisu in my mouth, to just let it rest on my tongue, and not bite, or do anything. I’m glad I followed her advice. It melted in my mouth.


Remember, right at the very beginning of this series, I said Sally was responsible for me leaning against a pillar, moaning? That happened right here. As my stomach finally put its foot down, I started feeling oh-too-full, and a little dizzy…and wait, where those happy sugar black spots in front of my eyes? It was time to stop eating.

But not for long.


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