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.

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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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