Time seems less relevant at Wolf and Swill. Even when the sun’s high and the footpath tables are full, the bar and pizzeria has something of a clandestine, after-hours feel. The front bar’s woodfired pizza oven casts a cosy, reassuring glow about the place. And in the back room, a mirror ball twirls lazily overhead, throwing patterns on the distressed walls.
The pizzas are basically Neapolitan, but slightly stiffer in the centre. And they come in just the one size – the kind that seems ambitious when you’re dead sober but just right after one or two drinks. One has confit garlic, sous-vide garlic, honey, buffalo mozzarella and rosemary. Another comes topped with pork and fennel sausage, bechamel, buttered leeks, and washed rind cheese. A fancy Hawaiian pairs ham hock with pickled pineapple.
The bar’s taps pour a truly diverse set of beers. In the past, Sapporo lager, Coopers pale ale, Mr Banks’s Got Milk nitro porter and Boatrocker’s Jungle Jive sour IPA. Wines are minimal intervention and slightly natural, without going too left of centre. Expect bottles from Jamsheed, SC Pannell and Crittenden Estate.
