As part of my To Do in 2010 list, I’m on a quest to become a master chef of Italian goodness. Earlier in the year I made the WORLD’S MOST AMAZING CIABATTA (as rated by independent sources that are totally not me), but didn’t get any photos. So, I set out to make proper-like, authentic-style pizza, and document the process for the betterment of the internet.
Things started well. I used this recipe here for the dough. Due to a fiasco we do not speak of, I don’t have access to a mixer right now, but working the dough with a metal spoon turned out just fine. Also, a superb workout!
In a compromise between authenticity and my Kiwi consumers, I made two different pizzas:
This tomato sauce recipe is AMAZING. And so freaking easy! A can of crushed tomatoes, olive oil, chilli flakes, garlic and lemon zest. Done.
(I baked the leftovers with pasta and a bunch of spinach and pine nuts the next day and, in all honesty, it rocked my world. This sauce is going in everything I eat until I die or am cryogenically frozen for transport to a space colony, should that happen first.)
Then I took a trip to the Mediterranean Food Warehouse (aka Playland for foodies) and bought a bunch of delicious fancy-pants pepperoni, and a big heap of Italian mozzarella.
Chicken, spinach and cherry tomato
I think this pizza had too many flavours going on to make pizza purists happy. However, it was OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN KILL ME NOW delicious, so fie to you, purists. Fie, I say. What would you know anyway, with your history and your culture and your superior lifestyles?
I used this alfredo sauce recipe for the base, but pumped up the cream cheese to thicken it up a bit. It was DELICIOUS, and totally passed under the radar as being (kinda sorta semi-)healthy. Sneaky AND tasty — that’s good sauce!
Grilled chicken and fresh spinach and cherry tomatoes went on top of that, to construct what I like to refer to as an orgy of deliciousness.
(I almost said oral orgy there. Thank me for not doing so at your leisure.)
But then it all went slightly pear-shaped…
Ingredients and dough prepared, I moved the entire operation to Rach’s house. The dough needed to sit for two hours before baking, so we settled in with a cheeky beverage.
And then this happened:
Yep. That’s four empty bottles of wine.
FIVE hours later, I remembered to cook the pizza. I forgot to take photos, but the extra three hours of chillaxing and relaxing did the dough no favours anyway.
The only photo I got was of the last odds-and-ends pizza, which was constructed in a drunken fiesta of overkill, and involved ALL the ingredients discussed above. I would make a bad Italian — but an excellent guest at parties.
Oh well. Jake-pants thought it was pretty cool.
This needs to happen again, with approximately one-eighth the alcohol consumed in the middle. But, collapsed dough and impaired judgement aside, it really was a DAMN FINE PIZZA.