Lazy Flipping Pizza
Pizza is the lazy man's food. Not the lazy man laying on a couch with a beer perched on his gut, but a truly lazy cook's best friend. The hardest part of a pizza is the dough. Everything else is simple gravity.
In my previous Article, I stole a recipe from Emeril -the master Italian chef that he is- and used that recipe for my Superbowl Pizza. You should re-read that. You'll be quizzed on it later.
This Friday night punctuated a busy week, so I wanted to throw together somthing quick. Lo and behold, there was six day old pizza dough chilling in my fridge. You can roll the dough out uniformly to a twelve inch diameter, and I'll dock it and sling it the old fashioned way. It only landed on the floor once this time.
After picking off the kibble crumbs, hair and black specks I decided anything microscopic wouldn't survive the burn. The burn is 550 degrees, or the hottest your oven can get. Pizza needs to be cooked fast.
I keep a jar of garlic oil in the fridge, so I brushed down the entire crust with it, including over the edge. Before putting anything else on, I heavily salted the outer crust, and made sure to sprinkle in the center. The oil is the only 'sauce' so I had to put some extra flavor on the dough.
Alright! So, I thinly sliced some shallots and tossed them into some of the garlic oil and caramelized the rings in a small pan. Meanwhile, back at the pizza, I sprinkled the dough with oregano, majoram and sage. I shaved gruyere and gouda liberally all over the dough. I also indulged my fetish for burned cheese by making sure the shavings layered over the outer crust.
When the shallots had a deep brown hue I yanked them off and burned my fingers while pinching them evenly over the cheese.
Now came the big experiment. This was already a competent pizza. Several cheeses, caramelized onions. Salt. But, a pizza is like a painting, a landscape. I wanted to create pockets of disparate flavors with a limited, but available canvas.
My wife wanted a Hawaiian pizza, but these weren't the best ingredients to support that, geing ham and pineapple. So, what I did was introduce small bursts of Hawaiian flavor by shredding some leftover Virginia ham carefully over the pizza.
The oven is at 450 now. Then, I took chunks of pineapple and thinly sliced them, layering each one over a slice of ham. I cooked it for 10 minutes, but I suggest standing in front of the oven and pulling it out at the precise moment you think it's brown enough. Professional ovens are timed to send the pizzas through at a uniform speed. Hell of a science.
And, yo, there it is. The pizza did taste like a painting, not meaning that it had the acrid taste of acrylic, but the different textures and flavors were distinct yet complimentary. The shallots tickled the three cheeses with its demure sweetness, the cheese laid a foundation to compliment the ham, and the pineapple slice released a burst of sugar to veer the taste off into a new direction. It's like there was a road trip in my mouth, and everybody was hitchhiking.
In my previous Article, I stole a recipe from Emeril -the master Italian chef that he is- and used that recipe for my Superbowl Pizza. You should re-read that. You'll be quizzed on it later.
This Friday night punctuated a busy week, so I wanted to throw together somthing quick. Lo and behold, there was six day old pizza dough chilling in my fridge. You can roll the dough out uniformly to a twelve inch diameter, and I'll dock it and sling it the old fashioned way. It only landed on the floor once this time.
After picking off the kibble crumbs, hair and black specks I decided anything microscopic wouldn't survive the burn. The burn is 550 degrees, or the hottest your oven can get. Pizza needs to be cooked fast.
I keep a jar of garlic oil in the fridge, so I brushed down the entire crust with it, including over the edge. Before putting anything else on, I heavily salted the outer crust, and made sure to sprinkle in the center. The oil is the only 'sauce' so I had to put some extra flavor on the dough.
Alright! So, I thinly sliced some shallots and tossed them into some of the garlic oil and caramelized the rings in a small pan. Meanwhile, back at the pizza, I sprinkled the dough with oregano, majoram and sage. I shaved gruyere and gouda liberally all over the dough. I also indulged my fetish for burned cheese by making sure the shavings layered over the outer crust.
When the shallots had a deep brown hue I yanked them off and burned my fingers while pinching them evenly over the cheese.
Now came the big experiment. This was already a competent pizza. Several cheeses, caramelized onions. Salt. But, a pizza is like a painting, a landscape. I wanted to create pockets of disparate flavors with a limited, but available canvas.
My wife wanted a Hawaiian pizza, but these weren't the best ingredients to support that, geing ham and pineapple. So, what I did was introduce small bursts of Hawaiian flavor by shredding some leftover Virginia ham carefully over the pizza.
The oven is at 450 now. Then, I took chunks of pineapple and thinly sliced them, layering each one over a slice of ham. I cooked it for 10 minutes, but I suggest standing in front of the oven and pulling it out at the precise moment you think it's brown enough. Professional ovens are timed to send the pizzas through at a uniform speed. Hell of a science.
And, yo, there it is. The pizza did taste like a painting, not meaning that it had the acrid taste of acrylic, but the different textures and flavors were distinct yet complimentary. The shallots tickled the three cheeses with its demure sweetness, the cheese laid a foundation to compliment the ham, and the pineapple slice released a burst of sugar to veer the taste off into a new direction. It's like there was a road trip in my mouth, and everybody was hitchhiking.
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