Guide to the best pizza in Adelaide

Anchovy Bandit borrows its name from an old Quentin Tarantino screenplay. It’s a nod to bold stories, best shared around a table, plate by plate. There are no harsh lights, just the quiet crackle of flames from the woodfired oven, glowing behind the booths. You settle in like a regular, peering behind the pass as pizzas slide out of the oven. One is crowned with ribbons of zucchini, another layered with creamy burrata — Neapolitan-inspired, but confidently their own. Here, the script’s been flipped but that familiar warmth feels homegrown. Writer’s tip: Housed just beneath a picture theatre, it’s the perfect prologue or encore to a movie night. Pick a pizza to share, or let the chef decide. Try the Short Film (two courses) or Director’s Cut (four courses) — leaving more time for what matters.

Beneath a towering office block in the thick of the city, Est Ovest sits quietly, a world-class pizzeria hiding in plain sight. It isn’t trying to grab your attention — there’s no neon sign, no queue snaking down the block. But those who know, know. And now, you do too. Inside, the rich scent of fennel and herbs hits you as you pull apart your pizza. The melted fior di latte stretches like a silky ribbon before the crispy dough cracks in time with your crunch. That first bite reveals the perfect balance: the spiced richness of the sausage offset by the slight bitterness of wild broccoli. It has everyone around the table nodding silently in agreement — this is some of the best pizza in Adelaide CBD. 

Have you ever tasted tomatoes so fresh, it’s like they’ve just been plucked from the vine? On a quiet patch of McLaren Vale, the team at Pizzateca turn local sun-warmed Roma tomatoes into the same sugo the family’s made for generations. You taste the difference, but it’s not just the produce. This is true Neapolitan pizza, made the traditional way. Dough is stretched gently — never rolled — and fired in a Stefano Ferrara oven handmade in Naples. It blisters the crust soft and airy, light enough the fold, sturdy enough to hold its own. You try the diablo: salami, dried chilli, asiago and house-made chilli honey. It’s hot, yes — but perfectly balanced. As the afternoon grows warm, your table spills onto the grass. Someone opens another bottle, while another orders a round of Aperol. Lunch rolls into late afternoon without anyone checking the time. Here, hospitality feels generous, relaxed and unmistakably South Australian.