This popular pizza spot is shortlisted in the 2026 UK Italian Awards
Cardiff’s love affair with pizza and pasta didn’t begin with soft launches and ring light-carrying influencers; it started with suitcases. When Italian families arrived in Wales in the late 19th century, they didn’t just bring ambition; they brought recipes, handed down over generations.
This has happily resulted in a buzzing dining scene that has lasted for decades. This mass migration has left a lasting legacy, with you still able to find Italian-run cafes, ice cream parlours, and fish-and-chip shops to this day.
It’s no wonder then that several Welsh restaurants and cafes have been shortlisted for the 2026 UK Italian Awards’ Best Restaurant in Wales, where one will go on to be crowned Wales’ number one at a posh ceremony in London on March 30.
As well as the 12 shortlisted for the country’s top Italian dining spot, restaurants have also received nominations for best pizzeria, best front of house, best pasta restaurant, best tiramisu and best café, and I am keen to try them all, for journalistic purposes.
One of the shortlisted spots just happens to be within my general stomping ground, and so I was dispatched to investigate. I get all the important assignments here, forget the Senedd elections, this is the real scoop.
Located at the corner of Pen-Y-Lan Road and Albany Road, Scaramantica Pizzeria has been making waves on the Cardiff foodie scene since opening in 2021 and is now shortlisted for ‘Best Pizzeria’ at the UK Italian Awards.
The site, formerly Da Mara, is nearly always busy. In summer, patrons fill the large suntrap terrace area, where you can sip spritz in a lively neighbourhood setting.
However, as it was a drizzly Tuesday, I wasn’t expecting big numbers, but I was pleasantly surprised when I rocked up a little after 6pm to find it already half full. A welcome sign for an industry that’s struggling.
Friendly staff seated us inside and presented us with Neapolitan-style pizza-heavy menus. If pizza isn’t your bag (and why not), there are limited other options, including pastas and salads.
You really should come here, though, for the authentic oven-cooked Neapolitan pizza, renowned for its soft, airy dough, San Marzano tomatoes, and creamy mozzarella di bufala, which hails from Naples.
As a travel journalist, I’ve travelled all around Italy, feasting on a huge variety of pizza, from Roman-style pizza al taglio to square Pizza Siciliana and oven-baked calzone.
Naples’ freshly made wood-fired Neapolitan pizza wins hands down. I can’t get enough of its puffed-up, slightly charred crust and fresh toppings. For the latest restaurant news and reviews, sign up to our food and drink newsletter here
Naples, the birthplace of pizza, is a buzzing city well known for its exceptional pizzerias. Legend has it that in 1889, Raffaelle Esposito, a maestro of Neapolitan pizza-making, crafted the iconic margherita pizza in honour of Queen Margherita’s visit.
Today, talented ‘pizzaiolos’ (pizza makers) skillfully stoke their roaring wood-fired ovens to handcraft thousands of Neapolitan pizzas, satisfying the insatiable appetites of locals and travellers.
I have visited Naples several times and made it my mission to indulge in pizzas from iconic spots like Gino Sorbillo, Starita, Pizzeria Di Matteo, and Antica Pizzeria Port’Alba. Follow my new TikTok for more pizza and travel inspiration.
The reason this is relevant is that I have found it tricky to get decent Neapolitan pizza outside Naples. If the dough overproofs, suddenly, instead of a beautifully risen base, you’ve got a slack, collapsing blob.
Food nerds inform me that too many bubbles form during fermentation, the gluten network breaks down, and as it cooks, it just can’t hold itself together, so all that promise deflates into dense doughiness again. Tragic.
So the real question became, will this pizzeria live up to my very high expectations? Neapolitan pizza should be soft and floppy (but not too floppy, right?) and, importantly, it’s chewy, not crunchy, with a slightly saucy top, charred leopard spots, and a famously puffy, airy crust edge.
It’s blasted in a wood-fired oven at around 900 degrees and cooked in about 60-90 seconds, which gives it that signature softness and lightness.
The dough is simple water, salt, yeast and finely milled flour, but it’s treated like a science experiment, fermented for anything from 12 hours to a few days.
On top, typically, creamy buffalo mozzarella and sweet plum tomatoes. The result is bright, savoury and beautifully balanced.
Scanning the menu, I could see the danger of option paralysis. There’s a sizable range of Neapolitan pizzas on the menu ranging from a simple Margherita with tomato sauce, fior di latte mozzarella and basil to more indulgent options like ‘lasagna pizza’ with fior di latte mozzarella, Spanish chorizo, minced beef, basil and ricotta cheese, and ‘Parma Fig’ comprising Fior di latte mozzarella base, Parma ham, figs, rocket and honey.
As a hungry carnivore, I convinced my long-suffering husband that we should opt for the Quattro Carni (£16.95), with a tomato sauce base, Fior di latte mozzarella base, cooked ham, Italian sausage, chicken, and pepperoni. Be still, my beating heart!
I also decided that we should order the spinach and mozzarella Arancini (£8.50), because you can never have too much mozzarella in one meal, right?
Our friendly waiter also recommended a crowd-pleasing bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo DOC from Italy’s Abruzzo region. As our waiter explained, smooth Italian red is the perfect accompaniment to a pizza or pasta, and I agreed most fervently as I poured a rather large glass.
If I were a wine expert (which I am not), I might have swirled the wine in my glass and observed vibrant flavours of blackberry and plum, wrapped in velvety tannins, with a lovely smooth finish.
Acting like, I didn’t spend my formative years pooling pound coins with my gal pals for a bottom of pre-gaming Blossom Hill. We were all in class in the early noughties.
As usual, I digress, back to pizza. Ours arrived promptly, unsurprisingly given that Neapolitan pizza is cooked quickly at blazing temperatures.
At first glance, things looked promising; the crust was light, airy, and perfectly puffed up and charred. Excellent.
The first bite revealed that it was soft in the middle and chewy on the crust, and struck a careful balance among crust, sauce, and cheese. The mark of a top-tier Neapolitan pizza.
It was the second bite when I realised there were a lot of meaty toppings. While I do appreciate a generous topping, I briefly feared I had bitten off more than I could chew.
It was, to be clear, an excellent pizza. The dough had that soft, slightly chewy centre with a pillowy rim. The Fior di latte was creamy and indulgent. The meats were very tasty indeed, especially the pepperoni, which I would have liked more of, because I am greedy.
But halfway through our very filling feast, a thought dawned. Perhaps I need to calm my carnivore instincts. This is not the Bronze Age. I do not need to fill up to make it through winter.
The trouble with meat feast ordering is that toppings can overwhelm the core ingredients like tomatoes and delicate Fior di latte.
Luckily, this was a well-loaded Neapolitan, and the Fior di latte and tomato base was not overpowered by four different types of meat. Phew!
However, I suspect I shall return and order something far simpler, opting for tomatoes. mozzarella, olive oil and fresh basil. A handful of ingredients, working in perfect harmony. For research purposes.
While our meaty pizza was filling, our arancini accompaniments were small balls of cheese-filled perfection. These delightful balls were stuffed with spinach and mozzarella, breaded, and fried until crunchy and golden. Magnificent.
Despite declaring myself completely full, I panic-ordered the Tiramisu ‘to share’. Husband gave me the look of a man who has never been permitted to share a dessert in a decade of marriage. Consistency is key to a happy married life, I’m told.
Ours had all the key components of a classic Tiramisu, but I personally would have preferred a better balance of slightly bitter coffee and sweet cream. Other than that, it was a welcome sweet treat after a carb fest.
So, does Scaramantica live up to the hype? This pizza lover certainly thinks so on a damp Tuesday in Cardiff; it transported me to the backstreets of Naples, minus the Vespas and Maradona street art.
Next time, though, I’ll channel my inner minimalist and order the simple margherita, for a proper pizza comparison test the readers deserve.
Until then, I’ll mostly be practising my “just one slice” self-control, and preparing to bravely continue my food-based investigations. Journalism, after all, is a tough gig.