Battle of the Pizzas: Crisp Pizza W6 versus Alley Cats

Crisp Pizza W6: Hype in a Victorian Boozer

If you follow the London food churn you already know the story: former chef-turned-dough obsessive Carl McCluskey took over the kitchen of the Chancellors Arms in Hammersmith, installed a gas-fired deck oven and started selling exactly 15 pies a night. Crisp’s origin story is a touching one. “I was born in that pub and my grandmother had it for about 30 years. I bought it off of her in 2020.”, McCluskey explains.

TikTok roared, the press declared it “best pizza in London”, and today you pre-book your pizza allocation online via Storekit app, then hope to snag one of seven pub tables or eat alfresco on the Thames towpath.

The menu rarely breaks ten items. We wrestled two cult favourites from the hectic environment of the pub and hurried to the river to take a seat on a bench in the sun.

‘Vecna’ - the showstopper

Pepperoni, parmesan, a snow-capped burrata and a final swoop of hot honey. The crust snaps like pastry at the rim, then gives way to airy chew. What shocks is the tomato passata: bright, sweet-sour and kissed with oregano. Burrata oozes into the pepperoni oil, the honey hums in the background and a faint charcoal kiss rounds it off. Only complaint, it’s small – 11 inches – and we would happily double-stack.

Honestly it is the type of pizza you message your friends about and can’t forget for the next month. All the elements combine so beautifully, with a perfect tomato:cheese ratio, which is always difficut to perfect. I cannot wait until I next eat it again.

‘Piccante’

Might be the prettiest pizza you’ve ever seen. San Marzano base, scarlet tequila-infused chilli sauce and that Instagram-famous basil-pesto spiral. It lands looking like modern art. Jalapeño heat meets herbaceous cool, the crust freckles black at the tips, each bite walks a tightrope between zing and richness.

Side note: the house garlic-and-herb dip needs a rewrite - too chunky, slightly bland, the pizza simply outclasses it.

Verdict on Crisp? Chaotic booking, pub carpet vibes, but the slice delivers lightning-bolt joy. £32 for two pies feels fair when every mouthful crackles. Take napkins (!!!), a portable speaker and claim a bench by the water.

Alley Cats - New York swagger on King’s Road

Tucked into Chelsea’s King’s Road, Alley Cats feels like the more civilised, posher, older cousin of Crisp. Reservations are a breeze, the playlist hums Rat-Pack classics, and the menu definitely pushes the boundaries of tradition, just shy of blasphemy to any watching nonna.

But the question is, how does the pizza hold up in comparison?

Pepperoni

We dived in with the Pepperoni: tomato sauce, aged mozzarella, smoked pepperoni, jalapeño and a generous drizzle of honey.

The pie landed huge, its slightly burnt outer rim cranking up the crisp-o-meter. It looked heavenly, but flavour-wise the punch never quite landed. Yes, it was dripping in hot honey. Alley Cats is anything but shy there, yet the pepperoni ran mild and the jalapeños gave only a polite flicker of heat. Crisp, by comparison, is stingier with honey but somehow louder in taste.

Aloha - Pulled Pork & Pineapple

Next came the maximalist Pulled Pork & Pineapple: tomato sauce, scamorza, pulled pineapple salsa, shaved pork, nduja, parmesan, basil: everything but the kitchen sink. Visually stunning, but the mountain of toppings made each slice a juggling act.

The sweet pineapple bits were nice on their own, though the ensemble felt uncertain, and the pork barely registered. Despite a reliably crispy base, the scant tomato left the outer bites dry.

Maybe we caught them on an off-day or chose the wrong duo, but both pies felt more promise than payoff. Still, £40 buys two large pizzas, we left full, and the takeaway box fed lunch next day. For now, the pepperoni edges out the kitchen-sink experiment, yet neither knocks Crisp off its throne.

The Verdict

Price per joy ratio puts Crisp Pizza W6 on the podium.

Its crackling base and laser-focused toppings beat Alley Cats’ broader but fuzzier flavours. Next sunny weekend, fight for a dough slot, pocket a can of lager and taste why hype sometimes tells the truth.

London Cravings? Other London slices worth a detour: Pizza Pilgrims’ ’nduja on Dean Street, Ria’s Detroit squares in Notting Hill, and Fatto a Mano’s chewy Neapolitan in Camden. Deep-dish showdown coming soon.

“Pizza is just bread, sauce and cheese. But if done right, it’s something else” - Chef McCluskey, Crisp Pizza.

Winnie Pours - the Decanter that Bows and Pours you Wine

Remember the alarm clock that brewed coffee we raved about? Meet its drinks-cabinet cousin.

British kinetic-design duo Harvey & John have engineered Winnie Pours, a 70 cm tall stainless-steel contraption that hoists a crystal decanter, bows gracefully, and pours exactly 125 ml into your glass before righting itself.

At the top sits a hand-blown glass vessel large enough for two bottles, cradled in a sculpted base carved from a single block of American black walnut. A marine-grade stainless-steel arm carries the decanter, its movement guided by hidden bearings and cushioned by food-safe silicone gaskets. Nestled beneath the wood is a lithium-ion battery pack that stores enough power for an entire weekend of pours on one charge.

A pressure sensor reads the moment you set an empty glass down, the signal fires and tilts the arm so gravity can do the pouring. The decanter never pivots past 45 degrees, so sediment stays put and the flow remains elegantly controlled.

What are the reviews saying?

Early adopters on Instagram call the motion “mesmerising dinner-party theatre”, applauding drip-free service and the way the arm keeps steady even half-full.

Design blogs gush over the steampunk grace, but Reddit pragmatists grumble that £3,400 is “Michelin money for a novelty”.

Gadget site Dude I Want That test-drove a prototype and loved the weight-sensor trick, yet warned it “feels as fragile as a champagne flute on stilts”.

Winnie holds two bottles and costs £3,400 – roughly 340 decent supermarket Malbecs. Its sister, Phoebe Pours, swaps wine for whisky, adds an aeration spiral and retails at £5,000. Both arrive numbered, with a wrench and an instructional video narrated by a reassuring butler voice-over.