WEDGE ISSUE
Purists maintain that authentic pizza requires Italian flour, a special oven and arcane knowledge. Don’t believe them. Homemade pizza rewards improvisation and creativity.
ionce spurned self-made pizza, but now I realize how wrong I was. The home pizzeria offers a deep well of potential dining satisfaction, with one small caveat: never let perfect be the enemy of awesome. Simply remember that dressed-up flatbread is the world’s most ubiquitous food, and the most adjustable. Any flour can work, any topping, any oven. Mostly, though, it’s dramatically easier than you think it ought to be.
Like others, my key to success has been to aim for the thin-crusted, sparsely-topped version, the kind that inexplicably costs $25 in those fancy joints. Not only do I prefer its bread-to-topping proportions, I find the svelte profile offers a constant reminder that there’s only so much pizza a person should be eating in the first place. And I love the cheapness-to-value ratio.
So for us it’s more an occasional Saturday-night thing, though it’s equally suitable for a quick and rewarding Tuesday dinner, provided you’re forethoughtful enough to keep pre-made dough and sauce in the freezer. The great thing about pizza is that you probably have everything you need in your house right now.
Let’s start with the dough, something I used to think might be above my pay grade. Nonsense. Simply combine flour, yeast, salt, water, olive oil and a dash of sugar. Knead well and let rest for at least an hour. I use one bowl, a spoon and my hands. Only if I were making, say, a half-dozen balls for the freezer would I bother to get out the stand mixer and dough hook.
Some purists will tell you that only designated Italian pizza flour will do, and it’s definitely worth keeping in stock. How different is the result from ordinary all-purpose? That’s a call you need to make. Meanwhile, there are two flours that definitely warrant experimentation as dough enhancers: coarser semolina and downright crunchy cornmeal. Both will alter the chewiness factor in a way you may or may not like, but what is certain is that both will provide a non-stick dusting for your work surface. Again, hands are better here than a rolling pin. Once your dough is puffed up, punch it down in the middle and start working it like a steering wheel. You’re looking for an even, thin disc with a slight bulge on the perimeter.
Sauce-wise, you can do almost anything, but what’s wrong with a classic? I start with a half-head of crushed garlic per can of Italian roma tomatoes, plus olive oil and salt, simmered for an hour or even two. I want bold, rich flavour that I can then apply sparingly.
The same light hand works best for toppings. I prefer sharp cheeses like Parmesan, Asiago and feta. Anchovy, truffle oil, squid. Smoked salmon, prosciutto. Shaved fennel, rapini, shiitake. Fully or lightly pickled vegetables, like hot peppers and artichokes. Thin-sliced red onions, green olives. Get fancy by making fresh sausage: mix ground pork, salt, pepper, fennel seeds, hot peppers and let rest overnight. Strew in small, well-spaced nuggets.
Then bring the heat. Turn up your oven as hot as it will go; it wouldn’t have that setting if it weren’t safe. Consider other hacks to mimic the 1,000 F Neapolitan forno. My friend, a pizza genius, starts his pies on a raging barbecue grill. My Italian grocer sauces the crust and bakes for seven minutes, then adds toppings before giving it another seven.
Do you need a stone and a peel, or paddle? Frankly, no. We use a basic 40-cm circular metal pan with the holes in it. Inspired by my buddy, I have taken to, first, swirling my pizzas over a gas burner to prevent moist-middle problems.
Beyond that, improvise away. Please yourself. How else would we have discovered the avocado toast of pizza crusts, the one made from riced cauliflower and a bit of egg? It’s not perfect, but it’s actually sort of awesome.