The Upper Crust

Just about everyone can name someone they know who hates meatloaf. Or yogurt, I bet you can find someone in your circle who categorically hates yogurt. But I dare you to locate someone who hates pizza. Sure, you can find a friend with tomato issues or one of those poor, lactose-intolerant freaks who cries if cheese is even in the room with them, but that’s not the same, is it? When you’re a kid and you get all A’s: pizza party! When you’re sheet-rocking your buddy’s cabin: pizza break! When you’re an agoraphobic, what keeps you alive: pizza delivery! Is it the delectable complexity of combinations or is it the mind-blowing simplicity of bread with toppings? Whatever it is, pizza is the 24/7 chow that has conquered the world.

Even though you can find pizzerias from Bangkok to Biloxi, pizzas are generally thought to be Italian in origin, which is generally true. Throughout antiquity, especially in the Mediterranean region, people used flat bread as a plate, and the Egyptians were believed to celebrate the birthdays of their pharaohs with flat breads seasoned with herbs and spices. The pita, an obvious relation, had been eaten for thousands of years all over the world before it was brought to Italy by soldiers from abroad.

Though there’s no Big Bang theory that applies to the invention of pizza, the style we know today came together in Naples, which is commonly acknowledged to be the pizza capital of the planet.

In the 18th century, it was known in tradesmen’s circles that the poorest sections of Napoli had the best food (a tradition that endures in many large cities). The flat pies were sold as street food by young boys who ran around with tin stoves on their heads. In 1830, Antica Pizzeria Port’Alba became the first pizzeria. They used a large round brick oven to fire their instantly famous pies—which they are still churning out today. Some people believe that it is this wood-fired cooking method that make Neapolitan pizzas the world standard. Others attribute the San Marzano tomatoes that grow in the volcanic soil of nearby Mt. Vesuvius, lending them a soft lusciousness. Still more swear by the pure buffalo mozzarella and its tanginess that makes any cow’s-milk imitation taste like wallpaper paste.

Here in the Land of Opportunity, Lombardi’s opened on Spring Street in New York City in 1905 with its very own brick oven. Of course, New Yorkers like to claim they’re responsible for giving pizza to America, but credit should again be given to the Italians. Stationed in Italy, World War II GI’s took advantage of the local fare and brought back a hunger for the easy meal. It wasn’t long after the war (1958, to be precise) before two young brothers, still enrolled at Wichita State University, came up with a winner of an idea we’ll call Pizza Hut. Two years later, two Wisconsin brothers came up with a little brand we’ll call Tombstone.

Pizza innovations have since proliferated, with deep-dish, stuffed crusts, dessert versions, BBQ style, “gourmet” white pizza, and all manner of other gussied-up folderol. Truth be told, the version that you can get delivered to your door in thirty minutes or less has almost nothing to do with the original idea of pizza, and I’m not just talking about the aberration that is Canadian Bacon and Pineapple. What was once a healthy, fresh repast is now helping to pad your ass. The gang at the Center for Science in the Public Interest (they were the ones who made you scared of movie popcorn) notes that just one slice of the Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust Meat Lover’s pie packs the fat of an entire McDonald’s Quarter Pounder. And I bet you don’t pick up a second QP like you pick up a second slice. Not one to mince words, Jayne Hurley, who headed the pizza study at CSPI, says, “You need cheese stuffed into a pizza crust like you need reverse liposuction to force more fat under your skin.”

Provoked by this obscene permutation of their national treasure, the Italians formed the Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana. A governmental DOC (denominazione d’origine controllata) organization like the ones that protect the names “Chianti” and “Parmigianno Reggiano,” the VPN sees its mission as one of preserving simplicity and authenticity. The dough must be shaped by hand, without a rolling pin. The pizza must be baked in a wood-fired oven, without a pan and should be “soft, well cooked, fragrant and enclosed in a high, soft edge of crust.” Graciously, they allow that “all types of pizza are agreeable to basil leaves.” To be able to call yourself a true Neapolitan pizza joint, you must become a certified member of the VPN with a trained pizzaioli (pizza maker) on staff.

Count yourself among the lucky, because Punch is a local outfit that is one of a handful of American members of the VPN. Not only do they turn out a dough that is soft and well cooked, but they proudly import the San Marzano tomatoes and authentic mozzarella di bufala which make their pies undeniably the best in the city. Pizza Nea is also turning out great wood-fired pies with astonishing toppings and innovative combinations. If you love a pizza not for the crust but for the sauce, then the Savoy Inn in St. Paul has the fresh, spice-laden stuff of dreams. Fat Lorenzo’s in Minneapolis comes in a close second. All these places will give you something the big chains can’t: texture and flavor that aren’t suffocated by heavy swaths of bland cheese.

If you’re under house arrest, you too can have flavorful pizza without delivery or DiGiorno. Pizza dough is the essence of simplicity: flour, water, yeast. If you have the cash, you could invest in a miraculous, top-of-the-line Mugnaini oven direct from Italy (their national distributor happens to be right here in town). Otherwise, you should definitely pop for a pizza stone. These flat round stones heat up in your oven before you place the pizza on top, simulating the bottom of a brick oven. While it can’t cook your pizza in ninety seconds like the Mugnaini, it will help to elevate the crust to near-VPN standards, bringing you that much closer to true pizza perfection.

~Neapolitan Pizza Dough~

Makes four nine- to ten-inch pizzas

It’s best to use a blend of cake flour and all-purpose flour to achieve a Neapolitan-style crust. This tender dough stretches more easily and has less of a tendency to spring back onto itself, making it easier to wield and shape.

1 teaspoon active dry yeast
1-1?4 cups warm water (105ºF)
1 cup cake flour (not self-rising)
2-1?2 to 3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
Olive oil, to grease the bowl

Sprinkle the yeast over the warm water in a measuring cup. Let stand one minute or until the yeast is creamy. Stir until the yeast dissolves.
In a large bowl, combine the cake flour, 2-1?2 cups of the all-purpose flour, and the salt.

Add the yeast mixture and stir until a soft dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead, adding
more flour if necessary. Work until smooth and elastic, about ten minutes.

Lightly coat a large bowl with olive oil. Place the dough in the bowl, turning it to oil the top. Cover with plastic wrap and set in a warm, draft-free spot and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 1-1?2 hours.

Punch down the dough with your fists (quite gratifying). Cut it into two to four pieces and shape into balls. Dust the tops with flour.
Place the balls on a floured work surface and cover each with plastic wrap allowing room for expansion. Let rise sixty to ninety minutes, or until doubled.

While patiently waiting for dough to rise, place a pizza stone with dusting of cornmeal in oven on the lowest rack. Heat the oven to its maximum temperature.
Shape dough on pizza paddle (officially called a “peel”) dusted with cornmeal, and add toppings. Gently slide pizza onto stone in oven. Bake each for six to seven minutes.


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