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There’s this saying, “If it tastes good on its own, it’ll taste good on a pizza”.  I haven’t had an ice cream pizza yet, or a Cheerios pizza, but I have my doubts.  If you reduce pizza to its basic elements–cheese, crust, tomatoes–you have surprising latitude for improvement.  Maybe a different cheese?  How about heirloom tomatoes, or a special crispy sourdough crust?  There’s a reason the well-known Neapolitan pizza undergoes scrutiny to be labeled as Specialita Tradizionale Garantita Pizza Napoletana.  Simple ingredients have to be prepared just so, and it is in the simplicity and attention to detail that the pizza is worthy of a special registration.  Of course only in Italy or France can you see such religious devotion and legalization of things like the method of spreading sauce on a pizza crust but there’s no reason not to pay the same attention when you make your own food.  When it’s time to make your pizza, instead of piling a mountain of toppings on it and a proprietary fifty-cheese blend, how about keeping it simple?  Being able to taste every ingredient is a the hallmark of a well-balanced recipe, and teasing the most flavor out of simple ingredients is a skill that will be rewarded in your first bite.  Buon appetito!

pizza margherita

The left side of my jaw is still sore from a bread-related incident two weeks ago.  Maybe it was because I was in a bad mood.  Maybe it was because I chomped down on a piece of sourdough bread with a rustic crust.  Result?  Twofold:  a jaw muscle that won’t fully close without and ache that ought to be accompanied by a [boing!] and a realization that perhaps there’s such a thing as too crusty.  I know, it’s sacrilegious, coming from an artisan baker, but recently my sourdough pizza crust, ciabatta, and bread have been testing the structural integrity of my teeth.  Solution:  add fat.

I’ve long resisted complicating the holy trinity of sourdough:  water, salt, and flour.  So I figured I’d start with the no-knead ciabatta.  I swapped out 15% of the water with olive oil and the result was fantastic.  Now I have a bread that doesn’t form a massive pita pocket of air, can be cut with something other than a lightsaber, and can actually form a sandwich that won’t leave granny’s dentures embedded in it.  I’ve updated my recipe here with the note that for thin, crusty, and chewy is as simple as removing the oil.

Next came the pizza dough.  My sourdough pizza dough is just the bread dough flattened out and strewn (struth!) with toppings.  This weekend I replaced 10% of the water with olive oil.  Let me tell you first that you know when kneading sourdough that the gluten is forming when it transforms from nubby to satiny smooth under your hands.  With the addition of olive oil the dough started as satin and ended with…maidens may blush…something akin to a breast.  Beautifully soft and creamy pale with both elasticity and strength.  Who knew adding fat could make such a difference.  This week I’ll report on the results of olive oil pizza dough.  But already I got to first base with the dough so I’m hopeful!

Then to the good people of the land was it Friday.  A dough ball shall be taken from the freezer and left to defrost on the warm top of the oven above the pilot light.  Lo there will be increased liveliness in the dough and bubbles will form.  Then from light on high will shine down on the countertop and there, unto us, will be a pizza crust delivered.  Yea though there were many options for toppings, the good people decided on the simplest.  There shall be potato slices on the pizza hence, but ever shall it be that the potatoes shall be anointed with olive oil, rosemary, and the salt of the earth.  There was rejoicing as the pizza was brought forth from the oven, delivered unto us, yea that we should enjoy it and sing hosannas.

Perhaps canst thou reach for it, lest ye burn thine fingers.  Thereupon shall ye exhibit patience, temperance, so can the pizza be cooled.  Hallelujah!

 

Crispy crust, gooey cheese, salty toppings, all served hot right from the oven.  What’s not to like about pizza?  Food technology and mass production, however, have turned what could be the most perfect self-contained meal into a mean joke—cardboard wan crust, rubber cheese, and lifeless artificial toppings—that doesn’t deserve to be called pizza.  So here’s an idea:  let’s go back to making pizza.  Not microwaving pizza, reanimating pizza, or ordering pizza, but making pizza.  I’ll show you how to make a pizza from scratch to table in under 15 minutes*.

*Not including oven preheating but come on, how hard is that?

First things first:  the crust.  Here’s the basis of good pizza.  You can shave curls of rubber from your shoe and sprinkle kitty litter on your pizza and if this crust is good, you’ll be forgiven.  Almost.  So here’s the magic trick with homemade crust:  the freezer.  Give yourself some time once a month to make a large batch of dough, separate the dough into Ziploc freezer bags, label them with a date, and stack them in the freezer.  Weeks can go by and your dough will still be better than 95% of pizza out there.  Really.  The pizza below was made last night from dough I made on December 29th, 2010.

Making dough from scratch?  Sounds hard?  How about three ingredients:  flour, salt, and water.  Here’s secret #2:  if you make the San Diego sourdough on this page, that dough can be used for pizza crust.  In fact, that’s what is shown above.  Make yourself a loaf of bread and reserve the rest for pizzas.  I usually make a quadruple batch and freeze it all for pizzas, which will give you around eight balls of dough, depending on pizza size.  If sourdough seems too challenging, try a yeasted version, like the basic dough found in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day.  Make a batch of that and freeze it up.

Now the hard part is done, and you’re ready for some pizza.  Take your dough out in the morning and leave it in its plastic bag cocoon on the counter to defrost.  Or take it out at lunch.  Or if you decide at 7 that you want pizza at 7:30, hold the bag under running lukewarm tap water and massage it with your hands until it’s workable, while assuring your hungry guests that, yes, pizza is on its way.  I’ve done this and it’s fine, especially since stretching out the dough will get it up to temperature anyway.

An hour before you want to make your pizza, preheat the oven as hot as it will go.  You can jump start it by putting the broiler on for a while then setting it to max heat.  Above 500 is better!  Hopefully you have a pizza stone.  If not, may God have mercy on your pizza, because a baking sheet won’t give you the same results.  Form your dough into a nice tight ball, dust it with flour, then flatten it out in a disc.  It may resist stretching, so give it a five minute rest and it’ll be more pliable.  I like my crust thin, and if you want to play pizzaolo, give it a toss in the air and catch with closed fists.  Lay your crust on a sheet of parchment (which will burn in the oven but that’s okay), or dust your pizza peel with cornmeal.  Don’t have a pizza peel?  Use an upside-down cookie sheet.  Don’t have cornmeal?  Use flour.  Either way, your parchment will turn black and smell like burning, your cornmeal will burn, or the flour will burn.  This is good!  Pizza wants a hot oven and the smell of burning means it’s working!  However if your pizza is jet black and crumbly or you see open flames it might be too hot.

Toppings:  keep it simple.  Pizzas don’t have to have tomato sauce.  This one has pesto and garlic paste.  The second one below does have tomato sauce, and gets a topping of lemon-juice-tossed arugula after it comes out of the oven.

Mostly, don’t lay on the cheese or sauce too thick, and try to minimize the variety of toppings.  “Supreme” pizzas are like that because they want to distract you from the awful crust.  There’s a reason the Pizza Margherita Napoletana has tomatoes, olive oil, fresh mozzarella, and basil, and nothing else.  Don’t use skim mozzarella because it’ll burn–cheese needs some fat at these high temperatures to melt.  Baking time should be slightly longer than you dare.  Let the crust and toppings get little spots of black on them.  That extra time on the hot stone will make your crust crispy and the cheese gooey and on the edge of caramelization.

Simplicity, honesty, technique, these are the things that will make your homemade pizza extraordinary.  So get out there and make it yourself!

Toddler Harbat has been growing up in our kitchen.  She took her first steps there, and quickly learned where the bread was sliced.

I’ve always tried to include her in food preparation, and her recent Christmas present shows where her heart lies:

Last night she helped make pizza and I’m happy that she knows that pizza doesn’t come from a cardboard box but is a handmade crust, sauce, cheese, and toppings (which she calls decorations).  So I was happy when last night during dinner she had a new meal suggestion for us.

“Babbo, maybe tomorrow for dinner you don’t make pizza with decorations but you can make chocolate chip cookies for dinner instead!”

Now why didn’t I think of that?

Here’s the first pizza I ever made, from stem to stern, crust to toppings, all handmade:

I still think about the taste:  peppery olive oil, fragrant thyme, and the pleasing bite of a partially charred onion.  What made it so memorable?  Simplicity.  I didn’t have mountains of cheese, convoluted toppings, or thick sauce.  That first pizza had no puppy dog eagerness to please, it was simple and honest.  Which isn’t to say all the pizzas I’ve made since then are rubbish.  But I need to get back to that.

Good thing that I got this for my birthday:

I’ve been fussing about with bread for a while and have always seen pizza as a way to make a quick homemade dinner.  Oh, I’ve been foolish.  It can be so much more than that.  If you get this book, be sure to read it from the beginning.  If you just dive into the recipes you’re missing the quest at the beginning for the perfect pizza.  As you follow along with author Peter Reinhart, you’ll begin to smell the cosy thick smoke from wood-fired ovens, taste the wheaty and charred crust, and see the tendrils of steam snaking up from a perfectly-made pizza.  The first part of this book is all about the love of handcrafted food, combining two things I love most.

Now I’ve opened the door to a new world of food and will never be the same.  Baking pizza for friends and family has been one of my great joys.  It’s different from baking bread because the whole process is live.  The best kitchen has room for people to stand around and chat with a drink in their hand while I spread out some dough, toss on a few toppings, slide it onto the stone with a jerk of the peel, then pull out dinner in under five minutes.  Making pizzas is alchemy, nothing less.  With American Pie, I’ve got one of the premier spellbooks.

It just goes to show, you never can assume to know what will interest a child.  On Saturday Toddler Harbat helped me make our weekly bread.  We started off with the whole wheat soaker, and she enjoyed stirring up the flour, mixing in the water and milk, and stirring up the sludge with her own spoon.  Then tasting the batter.  Then attempting to scoop out handfuls of batter.  At which point I suggested that she help out washing dishes.  That turned out to be twice as exciting as the breadmaking.  She couldn’t get enough of the scrubbers, pots, soap, brushes, and especially the operation of the faucet, all by herself. 

 

Friday was pizza night and we experimented with wilted arugula as a topping.  Huzzah!  After the pizza was out I topped it with arugula tossed with lemon and olive oil.  It provides a perfect tangy counterpoint to the cheese and sauce.  This is a keeper, and stem to stern this pizza took about 20 minutes.  Considering the no-knead dough takes about twenty minutes once a week or week and a half, and it provides enough dough for 4 pizzas, I’d say this is an unbeatable easy dinner option. 

Sunday was rainy, which turned out to be the perfect excuse to stay inside and play with Toddler Harbat all morning in front of the fire.  In the afternoon I decided to tackle the garage organizing project again.  Four hours later I’d made visible progress, found things we haven’t seen in years, and was again amazed at the stuff we:  A)already have but forget it and packed it into a box; B)thought we didn’t have so we bought another and put it in another box then forget both; C)bought when we obviously had loads of discretionary money and no taste; D)bought with a specific use in mind, then the use passed by and we’re left with an unopened and unusable relic.  I’d say we could easily jettison a third of what’s in there and never notice or care.  Another third is seasonal stuff, and the last third is items of dubious sentimentality.  I’ve gone through some but not all of my items, my wife still has plenty to go.  Yearbooks, for example, are incredibly heavy, rarely if ever perused, and act as the perfect metaphor for dead weight carted from place to place.  Why do we need them?  I didn’t care about many of my classmates in seventh grade, am I any more likely to care twenty years later?

Well.  Maybe by the end of the year we’ll be able to fit a car in there.  Or, I’ll just drive my car in there like a bulldozer and compress all the junk to the far end.

The blog is off tomorrow for bureaucratic maintenance but back on Wednesday with witty anecdotes, pictures of scantily-clad men and women, and thrilling tales of derring-do.  Or it’ll be the usual crap. 

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Sup, bra!  You in for some ‘za?  Should we get appos first?  Aright, high five!YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAH!

[shudder]  Talking like this makes me want to punch myself in the face.  But all the pizza I’ve been eating recently seems to be lowering my IQ.  More TV and computer games, less Masterpiece Theater.  But this is what winter is all about, right?  Hibernation (mental) and conserving energy.  Who’s with me?  HIGH FIVE!

Since I’m able to work a camera and bake arr-tee-san pizza at the same time, here is a pictorial journey of last night’s adventures.

It included olive oil, garlic, black pepper, goat cheese, pancetta, green onions, Boccalone Nduja salumi, and five cheese mix.  The crust still isn’t as crackly and chewy as I want.  Maybe my next batch will be all high-gluten flour with no whole wheat or all purpose.  And I’ll melt down some rubber bands for even more elasticity.  So I can finally tell my wife, “Yes, that IS burning rubber you smell coming from the kitchen, it’s not the food.” 

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It is absolutely dumping rain outside, which is a real event for Southern California.  Somehow it manages to do this just during the day at work, and when you want to be snug at home in front of the fire, or drifting off to sleep at night, there’s not a drop of rain to be had.  Maybe tonight?

My kitchen duties recently have only involved dishes, soap, and hot water.  But tonight!  Tonight I’m trying out the new pizza dough which will hopefully yield a more crusty and strong dough.  And since our last pizza used marinara sauce that had gone slightly bad, I think tonight will be a white goat cheese and green onion pizza.  How about some garlic?  How about peanut butter and gummi bears?  Too much?

 

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