The Rise and Rise of the Chip Pizza
Late on a windy, chilly night in pre-season Francavilla al Mare, there’s not a lot of choice when it comes to dinner. Pizza a taglio it must be.
The down-at-heel pizza joint was the only place left open along the stretch of empty road lined with dark somnolent summer accommodation. Not exactly a palace, two or three desultory drinkers in the corner, a cigarette machine, formica tables peeling at the corners.
It’s the kind of place that makes me feel anxious. Pushing open the door takes determination, and I’m suddenly massively aware that I am a foreign woman alone. Not that I imagine anyone is about to attack me - oh, actually that’s not true, the thought did cross my mind - but I just become acutely self-conscious. Nonsense, of course, but it reminds me of how I felt when I entered a pub on my own back in the late seventies or eighties.
Hunger is a great motivator. Once over the threshold, arriving at the counter, all I could focus on was the flagrantly in-your-face chip and frankfurter pizza. Oh. Oh. Oh. In the end the food snob in me won out and I plumped for a sensible square of the sensible gorgonzola and pumpkin slice. Not at all bad; a combination I may try out in the autumn.
Francavilla al Mare beach, out of season
My Italian friend Mariella, a formidable cook, texts me to say that she just loves chip pizza. Now I definitely wish I’d tried it. My only excuse is that there was no ketchup, and you can’t have chips without ketchup, can you?
Two days later, in a motorway service station, I encounter what is surely the acme of the chip pizza world. Verging on a chip calzone with style and attitude, it it surely the creation of an inspired (or mind-numbingly bored) fast-catering chef.
Italian service stations showing us how it’s done!
Eat your heart out Roadchef and Welcome Break. Here comes the revenge of a chef who has done with the tyranny of the deep-fat fryer!
Enjoyed this post? See more posts in Journal, or browse all blog posts.