RESTAURANTS • First Person
When my Midwestern father first moved to London to be closer to his grandchildren, his biggest complaint was that the city had no Good Pizza. Which means, for him, Detroit-style pizza – a deep, soft base with tomato sauce, symmetrical lines of thin pepperoni, and burnt cheese edges.
For his birthday, I decided to find it for him. But while London has plenty of pizza, this regionally specific style was elusive until Ria’s opened. Far enough away from the nightmare of Portobello Market, it’s in the best part of Notting Hill – stylish, but not overcrowded.
When we first walked in, my father eyed the interiors suspiciously. There were no red neon lights or vinyl chequerboard floors, only minimalist seaside-themed decor, with sky-blue painted beadboard, buttercream walls and light oak hooks.
It only got worse for my father when we sat down and looked at the menu. Spicy merguez? King prawns (shrimp, I reminded him) on a pizza? Natural wine? I sheepishly consider that I ruined his birthday by taking him to a restaurant for 30-somethings who still call themselves ‘cool girls’. The menu listed all the trappings of an overly hip London spot: homemade pickles, whipped feta, burnt onion jam.
I ordered two ‘pies’: pepperoni & soppressata, and garlic wild mushroom, with all the sides. Since it was lunch, we skipped Ria’s beer and had craft soft drinks.
My father shifted uncomfortably on the narrow wooden bench as Dave, one of the owners, brought the pizza to our table. I asked if he had family in Detroit. He said his wife Ria, from Scotland, never liked Neapolitan pizza, and once she tried Detroit-style, she loved it so much she decided to open a restaurant. In the thinness of his answer, I wondered if Ria’s was a stab at creating a ‘food trend’ like a cronut or smashburger, but decided I wouldn’t mind if my favourite style of pizza became so ubiquitous in London I could order it as easily as a fish and chips.
I looked down at our plates and wondered if my father noticed. The pizza’s signature features — a grease pool on the centre pepperoni, slightly overcooked tomato sauce, and chewy cheese cubes – were missing. The pizzas were completely different from the franchises in Detroit; the ingredients were fresh, the preparation elegant.
We dug in. After the silence that comes when food is better than any conversation, I asked my father how it tastes. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all.’ –AC Kienbaum
→ Ria’s (Notting Hill) • 29 All Saints Road • Mon-Sat 12-11p, Sun 12-10p • Book.