Say the word “pizza” in this house, and everyone comes running. It is the one main dish that everyone will eat without complaint and with unending enthusiasm. The Baby Bear eats at least one slice all by her little lonesome. It’s like piranhas attacking a water buffalo, and I hate to admit it, but I’m a willing participant of the frenzy.
The South, however, is not known for its outstanding pizza pie. Grits and ham biscuits, maybe, but you never hear a food critic insisting that the best pizza is made south of the Mason-Dixon Line. It doesn’t help that I grew up in the North where New York style pizza is prevalent and done very well. Yes, I am a pizza snob.
So I’ve taken to making pizza at home, mainly because there’s nothing local that satisfies my palate. First off, I hate when there’s very little sauce and too much cheese. Secondly, I desire fresh toppings instead of canned. In these parts, either preference means that I’m baking it my own dang self. (See, this is what being picky gets you.)
I must be experiencing part of a national pizza mind-meld, because the latest
Cooking Light issue has a great photo of pizza on the cover. The recipes I’ve come across are all very similar to my own. The main difference is the rising time. I believe that two risings are better than one, but I’ve made this dough every which way from Sunday, and it’s always tasty regardless.
Basic Pizza Dough(makes one, thin crust, 12-inch pie)
1 cup warm water
1 tsp sugar
1 envelope active dry yeast
2 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp table salt
1 ½ tbs olive oil
In a small bowl place warm water, sugar, and yeast. Stir until dissolved and leave sitting until yeast becomes foamy.
Combine everything in standing mixer with dough hook and mix until a sticky dough forms. Turn dough out on lightly floured surface and knead until dough becomes smooth and elastic. Place dough in lightly oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and allow it to rise* until doubled in volume. (about 40 minutes)
*If I’m not in the mood (or don’t have the time) for two risings, I’ll put the bowl in the fridge and allow it to do a slow-rise overnight. After breakfast I take it out and allow it to come to room temperature (around an hour), punch it down and allow it to rise again. Then I follow the directions as usual.
Punch dough down and turn it out onto a floured surface to knead four or five times. Place back in the bowl, cover, and allow it to rise for another 40 minutes.
After the second rise, I punch down the dough and place it back on the floured counter for shaping. (At this point, you should preheat your oven to 400°.) I have a round pizza pan with holes punched through the bottom to ensure a crisp crust. Since I lack any dough throwing skills whatsoever, I use my rolling pin and fingers to press the crust to the lip of the pizza pan. I allow it to rest for 12 minutes, and then I add the toppings.
Our favorite pizza decoration is sautéed fresh spinach. I heat some olive oil in a pan and add around three cups of fresh spinach by the handful. When it’s almost completely wilted, I add three cloves of chopped garlic and sauté until the garlic is fragrant.
First I top the pizza with locally made pizza sauce from a jar, but after my canning project this summer, I plan to be using my own homemade sauce in the future. Freshly grated, smoked mozzarella is sprinkled on next, followed by the spinach and garlic mixture. Remember to go easy on the toppings at the center of the pizza since it bakes last, and be sure to spread the spinach in a thin layer. (Clumpy spinach makes for soggy dough.) Lastly, brush the crust lightly with olive oil.
Bake the pizza for 15 minutes, give or take, depending on what your toppings are. Sorry this time is so vague, but the Husband is the resident pizza baking expert. He worked at a pizza chain throughout high school, so he watches our pie and tells me when it’s ready. That’s not particularly helpful to you, so just keep a close watch on it.
I asked the Husband recently how often he ate pizza when he worked there, and he replied, “all the time.” This wasn't an exaggeration, because the employees were permitted to take home a pie once a week, so the Husband was eating it at work during his shift and then at home. I wondered aloud if he ever got tired of it, and the man looked at me like I had sprouted a second head. So I suppose not.
Bon Appétit!
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