Ooooh, Rice & Pea-zza, you had me fooled. Awesome pun-based name that covers both the Caribbean and pizza contingents of the menu, and fantastically adorable Jamaican-grandma lady working the counter at 11:30pm on a Saturday night both made me so very happy. I was so excited that you’d moved into the neighbourhood, Rice & Pea-zza. But I was wrong about you. Wrong! After my first middle-of-the-night, drunken visit on the way home from the pub I was thrilled at the prospect of more yummy and feel-good deliciousness a few weeks later. Our little Caribbean granny lady was nowhere to be seen, replaced by the same fast-talkin’ Greek guys who had previously run the skezzy kebab shop in that space before R&P moved in, and the whole non-pizza side of the menu was unavailable. Was this merely a clever rebranding of the old pizza ‘n’ kebab shop with a part-time jerk-chef? Harumph, I feel cheated. The pizza wasn’t even good. Grumble grumble.
