Now and again, my inner junk-food junkie raises its head and innocently ask where the pizza is. At such times I quell my inner junkie with a healthy alternative. Now and again, however, the (frankly, poor), substitute doesn't cut it, and I simply have to have pizza. At such times, I find myself in Moseley's wonderful gaff: Mo Dough.
The pizza here is somewhat addictive. I feel myself instantly relax as I sniff the dough-filled air and I pause to note the endorphins running through my body.