The fundamental trouble with the best pizza in the world is that it's a pizza. It may well be really good but it still remains an unfinished sandwich that gives you gooey fingers. It's something that you don't actually need. Kinda like the world's best thistle.
Anyway L'Antica Pizzeria da Michele is somewhere that I've wanted to go for ages, ever since reading the Eat bit of Eat Pray Love (I didn't finish either of the other sections, which probably says something about me). I couldn't comprehend how a seemingly intelligent person could get so excited about a Margarita pizza, so figured that I had to try it. Now that I've tried it, I can't comprehend how a seemingly intelligent person can get so excited about a Margarita pizza. Don't get me wrong, as Margarita pizza's go it was enjoyable but it was bland ingredients on bread. For my money the best pizza I've had came from Grafitti in Manchester, although an honorable mention goes to the Fridge Special that Des made for me once.
The Da Michele experience is probably worth a look. It takes a minimal menu and presents it super slickly. There was a queue; we were Number 78; they were on Number 56 (or at least I think they were - I'm not great wih Italian numbers); but still we were inside inside fifteen minutes. We shared a table with a young Neapolitan couple (who re-confirmed it was the best pizza in the city) and were given the choice of beer or water, either way served in a plastic cup. The biggest surprise of the whole affair was how ridiculously cheap the whole thing was. I'm fairly sure that if most people had a reputation as the best pizza in the world, they would add some Euros to the bill. At Da Michele it was just for the love of the dough. And maybe that's what makes it special.
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