Open Mon–Sun 11am–midnight
As I escaped the torrential August rain and ran into the Westfield branch of Fire & Stone pizzeria I was struck by the undeniable urge not to seek refuge and dry off but to run straight back out again. The burgundy-hued restaurant was full of miserable-looking, drab shoppers sitting in silence struggling to finish their unappealing-looking pizzas. Having been seated near an interior window, looking into the shopping centre I decided it would be preferable to brave the weather and attempt an al fresco dinner in their attractive-looking, cream leather booths.
As my friend and I stared in shock at the menu of ‘deliciously different’ pizzas we knew that alcohol of some description would be needed if we were to navigate our way through the frankly, ridiculous toppings which ranged from yellow coconut curry sauce to rosemary-roast potatoes.
We rapidly ordered cocktails (£6.95 each) from the friendly waiter. Both drinks were better than anticipated and we both agreed that the restaurant’s al fresco area would be a good spot for post-purchase summer drinks, before heading to one of Westfield’s better restaurants.
After 10 minutes of reading and re-reading the tragically-themed global menu, we braved the starters; toasted pita and dips (£4.45). The tapenade had a good, fresh texture. The tzatziki, on the other hand, looked more like Sainsbury’s value sour cream dip with a distinct lack of cucumber and no texture to speak of. I would love to comment on the third dip but worryingly we could not identify it.
Moving on, we were relatively impressed with the chorizo (£5.95). Despite its excessive oiliness, it boasted just the right amount of spice, but the potato salad was tasteless, ill-matched and far too heavy for a starter. The olives and breadsticks (£3.95) were straight out of the packet.
Having polished off our cocktails we had acquired the Dutch courage needed to tackle the mains; I wimpily opted for the Italian section of the menu (well there is a reason Thai restaurants don’t do pizza) and ordered the Florence (£8.95); a classic mix of pepperoni, garlic and fennel salami, sun-blushed tomatoes, mozzarella and black olives. I requested to add artichoke into the mix and was given a firm, ‘No’, despite it being on the ‘create your own’ list. This just added to the feeling that everything was pre-prepared and created with no interest in the diners’ tastes.
Only weeks away from upping sticks to move Down Under, my dinner guest decided it would be apt to choose one of the Australasian pizzas and ordered the unusual-sounding Byron Bay (£8.45), an unlikely mix of pesto, mushroom, vine tomatoes, mozzarella, green olives, macadamia nuts and… cumin-roasted potatoes, naturally. Like most of the pizzas, very few of the ingredients actually bore relation to the country they represented or indeed complimented each other.
As the pizzas approached our table an incredible waft of curry hit us; Byron Bay was covered in cumin, the smell was like last night’s curry and it looked pretty similar too. We both sat opposite each other stifling giggles and prodding and pulling at our pizza bases in disbelief, trying to work out what they reminded us of. The closest thing we could liken them to was a dusty sponge finger; certainly not the light and crispy base we were promised. I can safely say, without shadow of a doubt, that this is the worst pizza that I have ever encountered in my entire life, which is pretty impressive.
As the waiter came over to remove our barely touched pizzas he looked unsurprised and did not pry but instead tried to talk us into ordering dessert. Without a second glance we ran through the pouring rain to find pudding elsewhere, hoping to erase all memory (and taste) of what we had just eaten.
Meal for two, with wine, around £50.
