Food > The Big Eat Out: or IN
Voodoo Daddy's Pizza // Food review
01/07/14
VOODOO DADDY’S PIZZA
THE GEN: Growing up in an era when Macaulay Culkin was ordering “a whole cheese pizza, just for me” in Home Alone in 1990, and Michelangelo (the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtle) was fuelling most of his ninja pursuits with strange concoctions of topping (tuna fish, peanut butter and grape jelly, for one), pizza, for the 90s kid, has been a ubiquitous repast. It’s strange then, that 30 years down the line, most pizza joints are idly smattering their dough with the same tired combos. Not so now, not so. Voodoo Daddy’s are the newest pizza-toting crew in town, and they work from the basis of two main ingredients: originality and humour. Currently residing from the culinary bowels (alright, I could just call it a kitchen, but where’s the fun in that?) of The Plasterers Arms, you can choose to dine in with something to sup, or order Italy’s finest circular invention to your own door, via Just-Eat.co.uk. Being, obviously, of right mind, I chose not to eat them at home, but rather in the place that’s full of booze.
ATMOSPHERE: Everyone that finds and enters The Plasterers pub loves it. That first point is important. Tucked down off Magdalen St, past the Blueberry on Cowgate, it’s a corner-hogging little gem that despite its petiteness, houses around 15 craft beers, and other liquid joy. Recent Facebook stalking saw a post about them making their own elderflower gin, which is the kind of thing I hope they do when I’m old enough to join the W.I.
DRINKS: Dogfish Head DNA I.P.A.
Much like smoking and bisexuality, ale is something you try when you’re younger, and only a certain portion of those testing it out become fully converted. I wasn’t one of them. Ale, to me, often has the taste of a bowl of water that an old man has soaked his swollen nads in. But when in Rome… Nice, informed pub manager, Ben recommended I try one of their American imported brews, the DNA I.P.A. It turns out you just need a quick conversation about what you have and haven’t liked about ales in the past to lead you towards a half of something suited to you, which ultimately leads to a second half…
THE MAIN EVENT: BBQ Eastwood // Crouching Tiger Hidden Chilli
The first thing I was talked into putting in my mouth when I got to the pub (steady…) was a tiny whisper of Psycho Serum chilli sauce. I’m talking a millimetre. Oh. My. Gash. The heat was insane. The main ‘star’ of their Death Star pizza, which guarantees 100% anus annihilation, the chilli killer made me nervous for my ‘Hidden Chilli’ pizza. Luckily, this particular chilli was as subtle as a teacher fancying a pupil, and just perked up an ultimately fresh, balanced pizza. Topped with courgettes (my fave), brie (you heard it), chicken, sweet chilli and peanuts (my deciding factor), it was crisp Asian flavour notes (plus brie) on top of Italian comfort. A teeny, nit-picking drawback: it coulda done with a bit more seasoning. Although not my first choice, it turned out though that the BBQ Eastwood was THE ONE; chicken, smoked bacon, BBQ sauce and ranch dressing, it was like a goddamn rodeo in my mouth. The flavours were as robust as an old Texan saddle, and imbued with just as much Hickory charm.
VALUE: I don’t know if there’s a general inch per pound ratio (unless you’re talking about the sex industry) in pizza terms, but all I know is this: I left full. A medium-sized, £8.50 pizza is fair game for my money, but they might want to think about an upsizing option for the larger appetite.
OVERALL: Artisan pizza and craft beer might be a hipster’s wet dream, but as on trend as that may seem, they’re two undeniable staples of our generation. I didn’t want to tell the Voodoo fathers, but usually I really don’t get my kicks from pizza, for the same dough-by-numbers reasons I stated above. Tonight, my whining old views on pizza - and ale - were flipped upside their head by some forward-thinking, Norwich based culinary creativity. Long may it continue.
VENUE: 8/10
FODDER: 8/10
VALUE: 7.5/10
OVERALL: 8/10