Posted by sean on August 7, 2020 at 10:12 am in Me Vs. The World, Pizza with No Comments

Something which is starting to increasingly ‘get my goat’ is companies who appear to believe that vegetarians are the same breed as vegans.

I am in the former if the two and have been so for two years. My wife has been a veggie for as long as I have known her.

We are most definitely not vegans. Giving up Nandos and Big Macs was difficult enough for me – I would never be able to wave au revoir to yoghurt, ice cream, cheese and milk – to name just four dairy delights. Then there are eggs…

On an increasing number of occasions, I have encountered problems where, upon ordering something vegetarian, I am given a vegan dish! Why?

Worst of all is when I am given a vegan pizza. I cannot stand non-dairy cheese, and may as well be given a rare steak, dripping with blood. I wouldn’t be able to stomach either.

This is exactly what Asda subjected me to when, either because the staff are stupid, or simply playing a sick joke, substituted my vegetable pizza – with normal cheese – for a vegan pizza – coated in what can only be described as rubber.

Finally, I think I have mentioned this before on my blog. I have absolutely nothing against vegans or those unfortunate enough to be unable to eat dairy products. Apologies for the terrible pun, but my beef lies with anyone who gives me vegan food instead of vegetarian – namely, pizza.







Posted by sean on March 28, 2020 at 10:30 am in Pizza with No Comments

Claire and I tried one of those vegan pizzas in the week.

We are both vegetarian and are always on the lookout for meat alternatives – especially me, after turning veggie in 2018.

The recent vegan craze has given rise to lots of meat-free alternatives, many from plant-based ingredients. Some of these new creations have been very nice – the Burger King Rebel Whopper especially.

Therefore, when we saw a new vegan pizza in the Chicago Town ‘Takeaway’ range, our attention was caught.

We’re not vegans, but we both love a pizza. The ‘Sticky BBQ’ sauce was also a temptation for me.

As I was nearing the end of my carnivorous days, I ate a Chicago Town Takeaway pizza. I seem to recall it contained a BBQ sauce, as well as a lot of meat. I remember particularly enjoying this sauce.

I had tried jackfruit on pizza before. It wasn’t a success, but I was prepared to give it another chance, thinking that the sticky BBQ may bring out the best in this pretend meat.

The sauce did nothing to make jackfruit any more appealing. To make matters worse, the cheese wasn’t dairy. It was fake cheese.


Before you all ask me what we expected from a vegan pizza – of course we knew that the cheese would be dairy-free. What we did not expect was for it to be horrible.

The pizza looked nasty and didn’t smell too good. I did try some, but it was barely a nibble – more of a lick.

I don’t think I’ll be buying fake cheese again. As for jackfruit…

Jackfruit is a terrible meat alternative. Linda McCartney would be spinning in her grave.

Posted by sean on February 3, 2020 at 10:01 pm in Pizza with No Comments

… add Jackfruit to it!

Jackfruit. One of the latest fake meats, now being used to satisfy the increasing fad that is veganism.

I gave Jackfruit a go this evening on my pizza. My pizza made with 100% dairy cheese.

I can’t say I enjoyed the new topping. While Burger King’s vegan Whopper tastes just like the real thing, this tasted… well… of not very much at all. Jackshit.

Jackfruit? It’s a “No” from me.

Posted by sean on October 28, 2019 at 10:34 pm in Pizza with No Comments

I have been wearing an imaginary black armband for the past two days. I am mourning the death of a loved one.

No family member, friend or indeed any human has passed away. Neither has an animal. In fact, nothing living has died – that’s not to say that this death is not a tragedy.

It may surprise you, but this muscular bicep does not belong to me.

I said earlier that I was not mourning the death of a friend. That isn’t entirely true. A friend of mine has died, but this is of the pizza takeaway variety of pals.

I believe that I was first introduced to Pizzarella in 1993. We hadn’t been living in Bath long at that time, having moved from Bristol less than a year earlier.

As a family, we didn’t eat many takeaways, while my siblings and I were children. To be fair to my parents, they weren’t being tight with money, or forcing their kids to be health freaks.

Our childhood home was near to the infamous Gloucester Road. Even twenty five years ago, there were takeaway outlets up and down the road. I don’t know if hygiene ratings existed in the late 80’s, early 90’s; but I can only assume not, as I seem to remember every takeaway business looking disgusting.

I vividly remember Miss Millie’s fried chicken having a window smashed. A trail of blood ran from the broken glass to a house, a short walk away. It wouldn’t take Inspector Morse to work out who may have been involved in that break in!

Anyway, I think that I have established that I didn’t eat many takeaways in Bristol – and with good reason!

Therefore, when we moved to Bath and discovered Pizzarella, an amazing little Italian takeaway, we became hooked!

My loyalty to the takeaway continued throughout my teenage years and into adulthood. When I left home and was forced to fend for myself, my pizza addiction continued. An addiction rarely fixed by the likes of Dominos and Pizza Hut, I regularly called on Bath’s best Italian takeaway.

Pizzarella was owned and ran by a wonderful man. He was a stereotypical Italian. A fantastic cook, larger than life and always ready to explode at one of his helpers, should they make an error. Let’s just say that he was a perfectionist.

Not a Pizzarella pizza, but one from Naples, Italy. Hard to think that you could once buy pizza this good in Bath.

Sadly, this fantastic Italian hung up his apron, to start a much deserved retirement. I seem to recall this taking place shortly before I left Newbridge, to move in with Claire, a mile or so up the road in Weston.

Claire knew of Pizzarella’s famous reputation and despite not living around the corner anymore, I was more than happy to return to my old stomping ground, in order to pick up good quality pizza.

The legendary Italian owner had gone and so had much of the quality of pizza. Whoever had taken over the business certainly knew his onions – or pizzas, though. Maybe he had been well-trained by his retired predecessor, or perhaps the wonderful stone oven helped keep these pizzas the best in Bath.

In recent years, we haven’t frequented Pizzarella as much anymore. Looking at the menu, it appears that whoever runs the takeaway now has expanded the menu to include kebabs and the like. I have never eaten a kebab and never intend do, but I have heard bad things about these ones…

This Saturday, we ordered a pizza for the first time in about a year. Claire and I were both disappointed. My pizza was flavourless, what little cheese there was tasted cheap and the tomato sauce – one of the best parts of the traditional Pizzarella pizza – was awful by comparison.

Thousands mourn the loss.

It’s such a shame that what was once home to the best pizza I have eaten outside of Italy, has sold out to become a greasy kebab joint, with very average food.

Rest in peace, Pizzarella.

You will become the thing of myth and legend.

Posted by sean on April 24, 2019 at 11:32 pm in Pizza with No Comments

Probably the best pizza you can get delivered in the whole of Bath – and not a drop of Novichok in sight.

  • About Me

    So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?

    If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.

    However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.

    You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.

    All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
  • Archives