Brick Pizza Co. - Bristol, RI - Review
Walking into Brick Pizza Co., a former industrial space with towering stone walls and wooden beams overhead, it doesn't whisper to you about its past, it shouts it, proudly. This isn't just adaptive reuse; it's resurrection with a purpose.
We sat at our table, sunlight pourimg through tall windows that once lit up the hands of laborers, now brightening the faces of customers. The garage doors at both ends open up, erasing the boundary between inside and out, making the warm, salty Bristol air as much an ingredient as anything coming from the kitchen.
The four meatballs came first. No breadcrumbs here. These are unapologeticly all meat, with just enough spice to get your attention. Pan-fried. The sauce tastes like someone's mom might have had a hand in it rather than a corporate chef. They are bright, herbaceous, present. A cloud of ricotta melts slowly under everything. It's a simple appetizer done right, which is sometimes harder than it sounds.
Then the pizza arrives, the real litmus test. The crust has the marks of Neapolitan tradition, leopard spots of char that come from serious heat. The back crust is beautifully developed, airy and substantial. There's a hint of semolina that adds a bit of texture and nutty flavor that lingers after each bite. But here's the issue – the center is so thin it immediately fails under the weight of its burden. And what a burden it is.
The cheese isn't just generous; it borders on excessive. The sauce, which showed real promise with the meatballs, becomes a footnote, barely detectable beneath the dairy avalanche. Cup-and-char pepperoni curls into perfect little grease holders, but even their salty punch struggles against the cheese.
It's as if two different philosophies are at war on the same plate. The crust wants to be Italian – light, dignified, eaten with cutlery. The toppings are bold, excessive, demanding to be folded and by hand or become evacuated. The result is a structural compromise – a pizza that can't bear the weight of its own ambition. And at 12 inches across, you'll need to order a couple for a group with any appetite.
But the atmosphere, with the soaring ceilings, the brick and stone, the way the light changes as afternoon adjusts to evening – makes up for all of it.
Service moves at a relaxed pace. Not rushed, not slow, but deliberate. Like they want you to stay awhile, which, given the setting, isn't a bad proposition at all.
What's happening at Brick is part of a familiar narrative, where abandoned industrial spaces now find new purpose, and simple foods become elevated through attention to detail. They don't hit every mark, but there's something really cool in their attempt.
If you find yourself in Bristol, Brick is worth your time. Go for the setting as much as the food. Don't skip the meatballs. And when the pizza arrives, enjoy it for what it is, imperfect but sincere, served in a place that honors its past while working on its future.
