Take Cover: A review of Sartorelli’s

Being handed a pager fills me with panic; I canโ€™t help feeling a bit of a rush. I’m handed the black chunk of plastic and nudged on. Iโ€™ve worked my way through one thick queue (admittedly by Covered Market standards, so about three people). 

As you approach through the Covered Market, the signage of the โ€˜Sartorelliโ€™sโ€™ grinning devil stares blankly down. Blue and white tiles envelop an inviting counter stuffed with bar stools โ€“ and if one dares, a shelf โ€“ inside, which my boyfriend and I quickly flock to. Itโ€™s a bit stuffy, but in such a limited space, they outperform many of their neighbours in terms of seating. A wall of messy crayon, signed by customers of the past, takes up most of the boredom of the wait.ย  A huge wood-fired pizza oven dominates half the space, but the staff works efficiently around it. Dough is span, mozzarella is sprinkled, tomato is lathered. The menu is simple: a list of ingredients like peppers, mushrooms, and pepperoni, to add as you like. For a location in Oxford, particularly one surrounded by what some may call extortionate prices (me, I call them extortionate) Sartorelliโ€™s are quite reasonable, but as a Margherita girl (boring), Iโ€™m covered. Expect to spend ยฃ10 on food, and then wonder how much you can bear to spend on a drink.ย 

Sartorelliโ€™s setting naturally gives it a warm and welcoming atmosphere, and its open plan of localised and inside seating (desperately needed in the Covered Market) allows you to stare at the kitchen in awe, or if youโ€™re on the fussy side, make sure theyโ€™re cooking everything right. The relatively short opening times mean dinner is out of the question, which is a huge shame, as the nearby White Rabbit is buzzing with customers night and day for a relatively similar, if not more expensive pizza. The market also suffers from an allergy to seating, so be prepared to wander aimlessly. Always order takeaway to take advantage of their pizza box loyalty program.

Iโ€™m distracted trying to force open a bottle of Sprite when my pager starts buzzing wildly. Iโ€™m a small-town girl, and I have to admit, pagers are still very new and very exciting. I awkwardly make my way through the compact crowd to pick up my food, wait a little while, watch sadly as someone sprinkles some green on it, and then sit. Sartorelli prides itself on its sourdough base, which on mine, has stretched out into an awkward rectangular shape. Itโ€™s an awkward dilemma in pizza โ€“ contrary to other foods, neatness and perfect circles is more reminiscent of greasier chains, whereas the messier the more homemade, it seems. The crust bubbled up, and despite being slightly singed, was thick and more than filling. We ordered a Margherita. The tomato sauce is spread everywhere on the base, but not so thickly that it overpowers the whole meal. They are also, quite strangely for more artisan pizzas, generous with the cheese, but the mozzarella is a little plain. The sourdough is stock and doesnโ€™t overpower any of the elements of the pizza. It stops the base from being crunchy and is more of a bread texture, but ultimately itโ€™s a great third of the pizza. It filled the plate easily, quite easily justifying the price.ย  We hunch over this little shelf and start attacking the poor thing with a pizza cutter. Perhaps a great sentiment to this restaurant is the ability to actually fill its customers- the thick base and generous helping of cheese and sauce of just half a pizza was enough, making it a great cheap date lunch if youโ€™re willing to share. Pizzas are quite simple, and Sartorelliโ€™s is simply good. Itโ€™s not ground-breaking, but in a city full of so much experimentation and variety, sometimes the classics shine through even brighter.ย 

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