We have a great selection of pizzerias in Cardiff. From Dusty's to The Dough Thrower to Scaramantica, we are spoilt for choice for when we have that special craving for a doughy, cheesey and tomatoey delight in the form of the Italian icon. So, when I discovered that the London-based Italian pizza brand Franco Manca, which describes itself as the 'pioneers of sourdough pizza' and serves up classic Neopolitan pizza, was finally opening in Cardiff after a three-year wait (plans to open the store began in 2019) I could not WAIT to try the pizza about which I'd heard so many tasty things.
Having been hidden behind railings and boards for the last few months, Franco Manca unveiled its first Welsh shop front to the world on Monday, October 24, and welcomed customers in on a walk-in only basis (I did try and book, but to no avail). So, my dining companions - one of whom is, in fact, Neopolitan; brave, I know - and I chanced it and managed to grab ourselves a table.
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Greeted gleefully by a smiley front of house, we asked for a table of four and, after scanning the first floor - which houses a gorgeous large pizza oven that was decorated with colourful and intricate mosaic-tiles; a nod, it seems, to the Vietri ceramics of the Amalfi coast - and were taken to the underground level, which had a bar and a choice of several tables, all of which decked out with salt, pepper and olive oil - for that added Italian touch.
The interior of the place feels, despite being seen across two floors and a chain, intimate, with wooden, black and red features throughout. Dotted around the place are references and stories of Italian and Greek folklore - the menu has a portrait of Discobolus - aptly holding a pizza not a discus, the walls have pictures of tales of Naples. This decor - which also includes golden framed intricate mirrors, is simplistic and not overwhelming, meaning your focus is entirely on the task at hand: eating.
After being seated we were soon met by a vivacious waitress who, after we asked how the first day had gone, said busy but good, with a broad smile. She apologised if she looked a tad frazzled - she did not.
We ordered drinks - a glass of lemonade for the designated driver and three glasses of the recommended wine - whose options paid homage to the restaurant's roots, with a lovely selection coming from a variety of Italian regions - Nero d'Avola, Montepulciano and Syrah. Our waitress recommended the Montepulciano: Francesco Cirelli (£6.45) - which, once it came, was delicious. Rich, full bodied, fruity with a nice tang that left a warm feeling in your chest on first sip - perfect for a blustery Welsh wintery evening.
For starters our hearts were set on Franco Manca's special of burrata that was described as being accompanied by (herby and tangy) grilled artichokes and dry San Morzano tomatoes (£8.45). As one of the party had a sensitivity to gluten, they put the sourdough pizza bread on the side. Wanting to try another burrata dish, we went for a classic burrata on toasted sourdough pizza bread with spicy honey 'nduja from Spilinga on a bed of rocket and tomato (£7.45). As we had a veggie in our midst, we asked for the 'nduja to be missed off. With this request, the presentation wasn't as impressive as the former dish. A bowl of salad with a burratta plopped on top. But the taste was great so... swings and roundabouts.
The burrata itself was gorgeous and could be only described by a simple chef's kiss motion. It was fresh - and this is a cheese that needs to be enjoyed like this - as reinforced by my Neopolitan friend. Its outer layer was firm and, plunging a knife through its centre, the creamy interior (that did not resemble cottage cheese, as many burrattas do) spilled out slowly. Complementing it with pizza dough was a delicious addition as the pillowy and bouncy sourdough - that had been wood-fired so gave an added smokiness - brought a glorious additional texture. So much so, you didn't even need the salad with it.
Our pizzas - two margheritas (£8.35), one meat special (£11.20) and one veggie special (£11.15+£2.25 for the gluten-free base) - arrived about 25 minutes later - and, I'm afraid to say, tepid. However, they looked heavenly. And that's not me exaggerating. They looked like those you see in pictures and adverts and films; a thick, soft, well-risen wood-fired crust that framed the pizza within.
Cutting into the pizza, you could see the quality of the dough - something my dining companions had great passion for, being from Naples. As we tucked in, I was made aware of the Italian test of a good pizza by my trusty Italian friend - cutting through the crust to see if the dough has an "alveolar" structure - air pockets, just like those in our lungs (Alveoli). These pizzas passed said test with flying colours and were soft and light.
The gluten-free one was slightly less impressive with a flat, caramel-coloured crust but its taste was not marred by this. Thanks to the firey nature of the cooking, it remained smoky, salty and chewy - just like its glutenous counterparts.
As for the ingredients on top, the veggie special was fresh - the watercress pesto tasted like it had come straight from the garden. The caramelised onion added a sweetness that was complimented by the pesto and the wild mushrooms, whose earthy and irony taste shone through - when you found one. If I were to be picky, it lacked in my preferred level of mozzerella and it seemed sporadically placed. A tad more tomato sauce (and cheese) and a bit longer in the oven would have made it utterly divine.
The meat special had a similar taste to the veggie but with the addition of aubergine (and retraction of mushroom) and sausage. The spiciness of the sausage is clear upon first bite and builds in your mouth with each chew. It's peppery, fiery and, well, spicy.
The margherita, a classic, was simply lush. Creamy mozzerella (though my cheese point stands), sweet tomato sauce (which could have had a dollop more) and a few basil leaves. It's a pizza that embodies the saying: more is less.
After our plates were cleared, we were too full for a "post pizza" so opted for an Italian digestif, limoncello (£2.95), that rounded off our evening finely. A shot that was sweet and not too kick-in-the-throat with the alcohol.
Regarding service, I hate to say it, but you could tell it was opening night - and a chain. It was a tad slower than expected and communication could be better as to who was serving which table. We also ordered a bowl of olives that, only once we left the restaurant did we realise, never actually came. It was busy and they were all finding their feet, though
While, yes, this is not the best first experience, I'm seeing the silver lining; it's a sign that we were enjoying our starters far too much and having too good of a time with our pizzas to even notice that we're were missing something.
All in all, despite a few elements, it was a delicious evening from which we left with our hearts and bellies full.
Wine? Good. Burratta? Good. Pizza? GOOD. Limoncello? Good. Service? Mostly good. With only a few snags in an otherwise smooth operation (that are sure to tighten up in time), I can safely say I will be returning to Wales' very own Naples for another taste of Italy at Franco Manca. And this time, I have no doubt it will be a well-oiled, unfrazzled machine.
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