homemade pizza

Pizza – What does the word mean? Where are you from? The answer – no one really knows. Go online. There are sites that suggest that “pizza” may be related to “pita”. There are other sites that suggest that it may be a word of German origin. Whatever the origin of the word, pizza is a gift from southern Italy and its immigrants to this country in the last century. In Italy, pizza can take various forms. The most famous for travelers is the fine-crust Neapolitan, a delight baked in a wood-fired oven. In Rome you will find pizzerias with varieties of pre-cooked food that you buy by the slice or by weight. All Italian varieties are excellent in their own right. In America, however, excellence is rarely the case. In America, pizza has an almost countless number of variations. In my opinion, most of these preparations are not worth the slightest consideration. Chain pizzas are not worthy of the name.

So why spend the ridiculous price for store-bought soft dough when you can make real pizza at home so easily? There is nothing easier and more satisfying than homemade pizza. Yes, it takes time, but not work time. The pizza only needs the time it takes to rise the dough. The actual practical work time is less than thirty minutes.

The pizza I have always made is based on childhood memories. Although I remember seeing my aunts there was no recipe. Everything is from visual memory. My aunts each had their own version of pizza. Aunt Florie married a man of Calabrian origin. Aunt Annie’s husband was of Abruzzese descent and my direct uncle Frank, of Cilentan descent, married Lena, who was, I believe, of Sicilian descent. All of them were born in the United States and few, if any, spoke Italian. However, in each case, the influence of Italy and the specific province of the spouse made variations in the way the pizza was prepared and served. Pizzas were always baked in a cookie sheet. They were always on the thick side. And the only cheese I remember was what they called “scum-utz.” That was his Italian-Americanized pronunciation of “scamorza,” a cheese somewhat like a denser mozzarella. I can still see and smell Aunt Lena’s pizza with the “slag-utz” slices melted in her South Philly kitchen. The “scum-utz” was always sliced ​​thin and placed lightly on top of the tomato sauce. Aunt Annie’s was rich in tomato and Aunt Florie’s sometimes had olives and even slices of hard-boiled egg. There was certainly no such thing as grated cheese in a bag. In each case, the pizza was nothing short of a table of joy. The pizza was standard Friday night fare with no meat. It was a fun dinner with all the cousins ​​at the table. It was served straight from the baking sheet. And you don’t cut it with a fancy slicer. You cut the pizza with scissors!

Now, it must be said that homemade pizza in an American oven cannot in any way replicate the historic Neapolitan pizza. In Naples, wood-burning stoves heat up to almost a thousand degrees: a temperature so hot that pizza is ready in just a few minutes. It is also so thin and delicate that only a furnace of such heat can produce it. So, as wonderful as these pizzas are, they cannot be duplicated in the home oven.

So where does that leave us? Although we can’t replicate the original Neapolitan pizza, we can create an easy, crispy-tender crust. Homemade pizza is simply a matter of good dough. You don’t spin it. You don’t throw it. Just roll it out and press it on a baking sheet. Top it with whatever you like, from perfectly simple raw diced tomatoes to the most complicated concoction. Bake in a preheated oven at at least 450, hotter if you can. No, it’s not the original Neapolitan. We just can’t do that. But this is a satisfying “hostel kitchen” that will please.