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Give me PIZZA or give me DEATH aka No PIZZA No Masters

So the whole point of this post is that pizza (especially if you’re vegetarian) is AWESOME GUYS!!! Recently I’ve eaten more pizza than previously probably EVER in my life, and to be honest, health concerns aside, I love it. Seriously. I was a weird child, and when my peers were all pleading for pizza, and having their birthday parties at Pizza Hut, I was the kid who would only eat dough balls. I HATED pizza, and only managed to get my head around it when I was maybe 15-16, and tried a mexicana type one, with chillies and grilled chicken pieces. Now, as this is a vegetarian blog, there is no space here for talk of chicken, and as such, on to the more interesting stuff at hand. PIZZA! YAY!

The Boy is a big fan of pizza, and so I eat it a fair bit. A lot of the time, it’s as an option for ordering take-aways, or picking up pizzas on the way home after a gig or a night out. Not the best, I know, but hell, I’m young, and am determined, even though I know better, to eat unhealthily while I can get away with it. I’m not THAT bad. Honestly. So take-away pizza seems to have been the staple for us, but a couple of times we have eaten at “proper” pizza places, although having said that, there are still a couple we intend to try. We’ve been to the Emporium Italian restaurant in Dalston, and that was VERY good. The Boy had a fiorentina, having tried one with quails eggs on it previously, and I had a fairly simple one with chilli and rocket, both of which were very nice. The main place that really blew my mind however, was Icco in Bloomsbury. As a UCL student, I was slightly ashamed to admit that I had never actually been to Icco before this particular trip with the Boy. And that is pretty shameful, since it gives you an idea of how many society or union events I’ve been to (if you can’t work it out, I’ll give you a clue: exactly 0). Everyone knows it, and everyone’s been there. It’s cheap, its fast, and it is NOMS. Excuse my internet speak. My trip with the Boy was after we had made the impulse decision to go to Leicester square and see Iron Sky on the one day it was showing in the cinemas. As historians we both appreciated how ridiculous it was, and managed to “get” the comedy, although I can see why it’s never going to be a mainstream success. However in my mind, Nazis on the moon is probably one of the best concepts for a sci-fi movie that one can stumble upon, and the DVD will, no doubt be added to my collection sooner rather than later.

After the movie we wandered around with the idea of getting some food, but ended up walking up through China town and Soho rather than up Tottenham court road, and thus missed our usual choice of burritos at Chipotle. We got as far as Charlotte street, and the Boy (as an ex-SOAS student), remembered Icco. When I revealed I’d never been there, the decision was made, and off we trotted. We got in, perused the menu, and got in the queue. I don’t remember the name of what we both got, but I have photographic proof that it was freakin’ awesome. I was a basic tomato base, with egg, artichokes and black olives. And obviously, we smothered it with chilli oil. Obviously.

 Pizza, and Boy modelling pizza, with his snazzy Assfactor 4 tshirt that we printed the day before…









And, a special rarity for y’all:


Yup, that’s me looking bashful with pizza. It’s handy to have an extra pair of hands around to take photos every now and then.

Now, this pizza foray inspired even greater things. About a week after this I got sick with a kidney infection, and while I was bumming around at home recovering, the Boy would send me photos and bits of what he was doing to keep me entertained. Kind of. One of the photos he sent was, I am certain, purely meant to torture me. His housemate is quite in to cooking too, and as an experiment previously they had made vegan pizzas. They did this again while I was sick, and sent me a photo of their handy-work. It was whole wheat dough, tomato puree mixed with garlic and herb vegetable pate stuff, and topped with a pile of rocket, jalapenos, chunks of veggie sausages, and no doubt hot sauce. The flat mate is a connoisseur of hot sauce. His collection is IMMENSE. Which is exactly the word I would use to describe the pizza they made:



Woah, guys. Seriously. You’re putting me to shame.




About newhumanlondon

I am a student in London in my final year, and I want to write. However, despite my wracking my brains for the last 6 months on a theme, I couldn't come up with one, and just went for "everything, influenced by stuff that I find interesting". So that's what I'll write about. For the near future, I'll probably be focusing on tattoos, bodymods, feminism and consent, the Occupy movement, and a little bit of final-year student life.


2 thoughts on “Give me PIZZA or give me DEATH aka No PIZZA No Masters

  1. Need assfactor 4 shirts, help? mpagano1636@gmail.com

    Posted by mike | January 14, 2013, 6:58 pm

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