Jack’s Pizza House, Nicosia

Operating since 1969, and since 1989 in its current location, Jack’s Pizza House is arguably the oldest pizzeria in Nicosia. Yes, the Jack’s. The mythical, legendary pizzeria that seems to hold a lifelong, nay, generational grudge against mozzarella cheese.

The restaurant’s tagline is ‘a family business,’ and to its credit, it’s an apt one. The pizzeria is now run by Jack Chimonides Di Santis, grandson of the original founder, Jack Petrides.

Three generations in an industry whose motto could be summed up as ‘here today, gone tomorrow’ – is more than admirable. It’s a bona fide feat.

So imagine my surprise when, after conducting an impromptu poll with friends, acquaintances and colleagues just to get a feel for the place, I was left with more questions than answers.

Responses fell neatly into two camps: either a blank stare followed by “Never heard of the place,” or nostalgic anecdotes prefaced by “Did you know that back in the day Jack’s used to [insert quirky happening]?” or “Yeah, Jack was a character – did you know he used to [insert zany adventure]?”

Next to nothing about the food.

And for a restaurant that’s been around for over half a century, that’s more than a little perplexing.

Adventure awaits. And what an adventure it turned out to be.

The pizzeria is tucked away on a side street’s side street, right in the middle of a residential neighbourhood, on the ground floor of a two-storey house. Unless you already knew it was there, good luck finding it. Even if you happened to walk by on an evening stroll, you’d be hard-pressed to decipher its purpose.

Outside, the place is barren. A small tiled patio, covered by a corrugated sheet, hosts nothing but a solitary chair.

Inside, it’s a hodgepodge: two tables pressed against a massive mirror, a random assortment of chairs and a weary delivery driver waiting around. The front of house is a tight squeeze between that mirror and the counter, behind which sit the oven, the ingredients, the utensils – and Jack himself.

He greets us with a nod and briefly raised eyebrows rather than words. You can tell this man has been doing this – if you’ll pardon the pun – for generations.

I ask if there’s a table we can sit at. There isn’t. “Takeaway and delivery only,” he replies.

We ask for a menu. Jack points to the wall behind us. Next to the mirror, a simple list of items and prices – no descriptions, no ingredients, no clues as to what’s in a “Jack’s Classic.”

My friend plays it safe with a pepperoni. I, feeling somewhat of a renegade, go for the “Cypriana.” A portion of mozzarella sticks (they do exist!) to round it out, and we’re done.

“About twenty-five minutes,” Jack tells us.

After about twenty minutes, it’s done. We pay and make our way home for dinner. It’s not what we’d planned, but on the plus side, his father has agreed to join us – a third, potentially tie-breaking opinion is always welcome.

We arrive. I open the boxes and… I am instantaneously transported to my youth: holding my mother’s hand as we pass some fast-food pizza chain, me asking, “Can we have pizza tonight?” and her replying, “We have pizza at home.”

This is that at-home pizza.

The cardboard box is entirely unmarked, the pie is cut in strange rectangular shapes, the cheese may be Gouda or it may be “yellow cheese”.

The toppings are encased beneath the cheese, at first glance it looks like we ordered two double-cheese pizzas with nothing else.

The four mozzarella sticks languidly roll around the box, less like an appetizer and more like a warning from some old mob movie – four fingers sent to let the rival clan know they mean business.

My immediate disappointment is immeasurable. And yet, the food delivers on taste far more than it did on presentation. Yes, the pies are so light on tomato sauce it feels as though it’s gone out of style. But the dough is light and crisp, allowing the toppings to take centre stage – and it works.

To be fair, there’s a clear discrepancy between the two pizzas. The pepperoni, with its single topping, feels a little dry. Everything is made well, but it’s missing that indefinable something.

The Cypriana, though, delivers in spades. The fresh tomato, onion, lountza and halloumi make every mouthful feel rewarding. There’s a “just one more bite, just one more slice” quality that’s hard to define and harder to resist. That indeterminate cheese – whatever it may be – feels homey.

Pizza purists will have checked out long ago, and that’s fair. But if you’ve made it this far, remember that scene in Ratatouille where the hard-nosed critic is transported back to his childhood after tasting the titular dish?

This is that dish.

VITAL STATISTICS

SPECIALTY Pizza

WHERE Jack’s Pizza House, Lechenon 1B, Strovolos Nicosia

WHEN Daily 12-2.45pm and 5.30pm-1.45am (take away and delivery only)

CONTACT 22 002080

HOW MUCH Pizzas from €8.50