Pushing the boundary of luxury is a practice undertaken by humanity for thousands of years, but just because you can make something really posh, doesn’t mean you should.
The humble pizza is a beautiful thing, and one that is only going from strength to strength in the UK. There are excellent pizza joints up and down the country, with all of Britain’s major cities now home to multiple places throwing out great pies.
In London, it is hard to breathe for top-notch sourdough pizza places which is wonderful for a slice lover such as myself, but it can also make it very hard for places to stand out. Enter Santa Maria, which has six outposts spotted around some of the capital’s more well-heeld neighbourhoods, and has made a bid to break out from the pack by pushing the boundaries of pizza luxury.
I headed to the Islington branch to have a crack at their limited-edition Lobster Thermidor Pizza, which had been crafted in collaboration with the popular Soho haunt, The Seafood Bar.
Dubbed the Santa Aragostina it had been developed for National Pizza day on February 9 and was offered for two weeks, giving me a window to nip down and try what has to be the poshest pizza on offer in the capital.
This in itself is a pitfall because pizza fulfils a vital role in London that this dish takes a brazen step away from. So many meals out here are bank breaking, but the sourdough pizza has risen to bravely offer the casual diner not looking to spend more than £15 a fresh, luxurious-feeling, quick and delicious fix while out and about in town.
This then, means that the lobster pizza’s initial £37.50 price tag immediately turns it into something else. The price was later brought down – the reason for which I do not know – but it still hovered around the £20 mark, putting it right at the top end of pretty much any pizza joint’s price range, if not beyond.
The Santa Maria restaurant is a lovely, no fuss, bustling neighbourhood restaurant with great house beer, and I can attest that the dough, cheese and San Marzano marinara used were delicious. This is what makes this particular dish so confusing, because it feels like it doesn’t really need to exist.
The lobster on the pizza was beautiful, tender and meaty, while the enormous prawns were so big and juice they looked like they were going to burst without being touched.
This, however, means little when, on first pickup, they all slid off and ended up in a pile on the plate, leaving me with what was basically a very, very nice slice of margarita pizza with a side of seafood on the plate below.
This would be lovely if it were the offering on the menu, but it isn’t. To be clear, everything about this was tasty, but there was just no need to bring these two things together. I love tuna, I love chocolate, I don't want to eat them at the same time.
Perhaps this pizza is a metaphore for the rampant appetites of the rich, of people who already have everything constantly looking for the next fix, desperate to feel that glimmer of excitement that was commonplace on the way up. Or, maybe it's just a pizza with lobster on, I'll leave that one up to you.
Santa Maria clearly make wonderful pizza and foster brilliant atmospheres in their restaurants – I can’t wait to go back – but what this excursion taught me was that just because something can exist, doesn’t mean it should.
Pizza is joyful, functional option in London. It can be your favourite food and nothing can spark excitement like the prospect of going to get it, but you’re unlikely to see it heading the bill at the capital’s Michelin-decorated restaurants. There’s little need for armbands of solid gold, nor a bike chain made of pearls. So too is there little need for lobster pizza.
Comments
Leave a Comment