These are my usual requirements;
• The pizza must always be much bigger than I anticipate. This never happens in the UK, (it's always smaller than I think it'll be here). Normally, it's twice the size that I imagine, and Mrs Bacon rolls her eyes, "not again", she says, "you better eat it all".
I always do for the sake of pride but also because I'm greedy. Once, in a place called Rota in Southern Spain, the pizza was the size of a dustbin lid. I still ate it all.
• The restaurant preferably should have red and white chequered tablecloths, slick, over confident friendly waiters and a sea view would be nice too. Oh another thing, we don't want to be sat right next to another table. (One of our pet hates).
• To drink I'll always have a bottle of house red, this will taste a little rough until half way down the bottle, when I'll decide 'it's ok' after all.
I'm rarely disappointed with the pizzas as I often am in the UK. La Bruschetta in the little seaside town of Puerto de Mogan in Gran Canaria was the most recent restaurant of choice. It didn't have the tablecloths, but it had just about everything else spot on, and the pizzas were fabulous, large, juicy and with thin bases. The cheese was all over the pizza not just in little blobs like they do it here, (tight with the ingredients again?) The bases are probably not quite as charred at the edges as I'd like, but you can't have everything can you.
Mission accomplished; My perfect holiday pizza.
Here are the photos:
|Mrs B's; mushroom and truffle oil. I had half of that too.|
|The restaurant is on the right hand side of the photo.|