The Travel Critic

Pizza. It’s no longer just food, is it? It’s a way of life. A cultural moment. Where once you’d pop out for “a pizza,” now you find yourself wading knee-deep in existential questions. What sort of pizza are we talking about here? Is it artisan? Sourdough? Neapolitan? Detroit-style? Vegan? Bristol, the city that could gentrify a traffic cone and make it Instagrammable, has embraced this pizza zeitgeist and, naturally, turned it up to eleven.

Enter Gigi Pizza. In a city that has made a habit of transforming derelict corners into gastronomic temples, Gigi’s has found its place with ease. The design is stripped back and minimal, the kind of aesthetic that suggests the focus is firmly on the food. A few industrial flourishes, some sleek seating, and a vibe that says, “We know we’re cool, but we’re not trying too hard.”

But here’s the twist. Gigi’s sells slices. Yes, slices (whole pizza’s too). In America, this is as common as ketchup on chips, but here? Revolutionary. Game-changing. It’s perfect for the indecisive eater who wants a snack or a smorgasbord of different toppings without committing to the marriage of a whole pizza. It feels casual yet curated, playful yet precise.

The pizza itself? Oh, it’s good. It’s really good. The Margherita? A classic done perfectly, with tangy tomato and creamy mozzarella. The vodka pizza? A revelation—silky, rich, and utterly addictive. These are slices you’ll want to come back for again and again.

The drinks menu eschews mainstream soft drinks for the sort of artisanal sodas and craft brews that come in matte glass bottles with labels you’ll want to photograph. San Pellegrino? Please. Try the kombucha or the Gigi’s peach iced tea and tell me it doesn’t taste like the future.

Bristol, with its ever-evolving food scene and its knack for turning empty shopfronts into hotspots, didn’t need another pizza place. But Gigi’s isn’t just a pizza place. It’s a statement, a snack, a movement. So, go on. Have a slice. Or two. Or three. You’ll leave feeling cooler than when you walked in—and that’s saying something in Bristol.