‘In a world without fish…’
What a potent opening statement. How does it make you feel? Are you sad for the fish? Are you concerned about the ecological effects? Do you wonder what caused such extinction? Or are you yelling ‘MY TASTE BUDS’ at your screen?
If the latter, I have the perfect game for you. Sushi Strikers. I also have more than a few hundred pedantic words to follow that you should probably skip. Continue reading
Vegans are haunted by one particularly annoying hypothetical situation: ‘But what would you eat if you were stranded on a desert island?’ I stopped entertaining this question about a month into being a vegetarian. It’s a cop-out question from people who either can’t or won’t discuss the moral implications of the meat and dairy industry. I now often respond with the equally evasive retort: ‘How many people could actually hunt a damn animal with self-made tools as opposed to foraging?’
But I entertained a similar situation while playing Where the Goats Are by Memory of God, a game about farming goats and chickens in the face of the apocalypse. Continue reading
This blog was originally written on 01/08/2016
I feel fat. Full and fat.
Last week I ate a pizza a day before going vegan. From frozen pizza to wood oven calzones, I ate myself pizza silly so that I’d be sick of the damn things.
Only problem, it didn’t work.
After one of the best calzones in my life, the lowest point of the experiment was eating at the recently opened Ciao Bella pizzeria on the famous Surrey Street in Croydon.
It’s a laidback cafe/takeaway with a very different vibe to the gimmicky rustic ambience of most London pizzerias. You don’t drink from a mason jar, cutlery isn’t kept in old mustard tins and there are no condescending 20-year-olds with thick-rimmed glasses. Christ, it even had fairy lights on the wall. I instantly fell for the ‘we don’t give a fuck enough to be cool’ vibe.
Prisma also came out for Android, so you know…
But how was the pizza? Continue reading
Given I’d already shared my love of pizza and kicked things off with frozen mediocrity, it was time to get out of the house and get some real, wood oven pizza from the gods of people themselves, the Italians. I popped around the corner to visit Pizzeria Pellone, a two-store franchise in Croydon and Dulwich.
This was my second time at Pellone. As a man of habit, I bought the exact same pizza as before, the wonderful Calzone Fritto which comes loaded with fior di latta cheese, tomato, ricotta, salami and black pepper – as a filthy veggie I swapped the salami for mushrooms. So that’s two types of surprisingly powerful cheese squashed into a folded pizza. Maybe God does exist? Okay, let’s not go that far.
Anyway, last time I visited Pellone I was very, very impressed. I later found
I’ve always had a considerable amount of respect for the Italians due to the absolute marvel that is pizza.
From the Italians to the Earl of Sandwich – who, as I learnt from Blackadder the Third and confirmed to be true on Wikipedia, painstakingly designed that other absolute marvel while surely hungover to fuck and sat at a gambling table, yearning for double the stodge to soak up the poison that is last night’s regret – I’ve always admired the simplicity of utter geniuses who just pile shit on other shit and go for it. In this case, that latter shit is dough.
One thing has always given pizza that crusty edge over a sandwich: Melted cheese. I know cheese toasties are a thing but let’s ignore that for a second because, well, I’m not writing about sandwiches.
To be fair, I usually fold my pizza like this anyway, so it’s basically a sarnie.