Experiencing the authoritative pizza (Dec. 30, 2008)

Experience, though noon auctoritee / Were in this world, is right ynogh for me
Wife of bath, Chaucer, Canterbury tales

Like the Wife of Bath, I’d like to think that experience is where it’s at, with the first-hand exploration of great challenges rebutting authority.  Sadly, again like the Wife of Bath, I find it’s all a bit more complicated than that, and particularly so when it comes to pizza. Yeah, experience is important.  Critically important.  On the other hand, there’s plenty a person would never encounter without our authorities, without proficient guides.  Earlier in my blog, I wrote in a particularly earnest way about my pizza dough recipe and techniques.  Indeed, I find many authorities that give the same weak attention to the subtleties of a good dough.  Those authorities are reputable pizza cookbooks, cookbooks that I continue to value for, at the very least, their creative attention to toppings.  Nevertheless, there is a need for deep and powerful attention when it comes to pizza crust, and I’d like to set the record straight right here and now, and repudiate that earlier recipe.

The tradition that I’d like to invoke here is that of Vera Pizza Napoletana.  I’m more agnostic than most about the things I crave.  I prefer East Carolina barbeque over anything to the west, south or north, but I love my pig enough that I’ll gratefully and very happily eat any of them.  I’ll also readily acknowledge that there are many good pizzas that are not defined by EU regulation.  Nonetheless, if you’re going to strive for something, VPN is the apex of pizza making and the thing worth striving for.  So, with regard to repudiation:  none of that foofy stuff in the dough, forget the wine, honey, oil and all other novelties, and go for that simple  flour, water, yeast and salt mixture of Vera Pizza Napoletana.

My family has been witness to an extraordinary phenomenon, as I’ve worked my way from success to failure and back to success again.  As I said, it would be great to say that we can chalk all of this up to experience, but authority really does come into play.  It was experience that helped me to develop an approximation of a great pizza, with small variations on the dough and different approaches to cooking (e.g., see my Big Green Egg pizza post).  I ratcheted it all up, trying for a decent VPN, and produced a number of attrocities that were hardly edible.  The web is a wonderful place, and at this point I’d like to acknowledge a few of the authorities that help make a difference when you’re striving to make a great and authentic Napoletana pizza.  First off, there’s Forno Bravo, a source that’s extraordinary not only for its helpful recipe and tips on techniques, but also for its sourcing of ingredients and supplies.  I also need to give recognition to Jeff Varasano’s site, which is a wonderful source of information on techniques (particularly related to hydration--see his notes on autolysing).  Ironically, Jeff’s site is a paean to the very experience that I’m calling into question here, and I have to disagree with Jeff’s assessment of, say, A16.  (Sometimes, I think, our hearts overrule our taste buds.)  And then there’s A16 itself, and though there’s no web presence to help the budding pizza maker through, their cookbook (A16:  Food and Wine) is a fine source from a finer restaurant.

I’d like to heartily recommend these sites, and particularly the Forno Bravo recipe and Jeff Varasano’s review of techniques, and then adding to this consultation of authority as much experience as you can muster.   Don't rely on what I'm writing here.  Use the Forno Bravo recipe, consider their advice to measure by weight rather than by volume, borrow Jeff Varasano's technique on autolysing and pay attention to hydration.  Start by using a hot conventional oven and, of course, a pizza stone, and don’t mess with the Big Green Egg while you’re trying to get your technique down (too many variables).  Remember that even if you’re going to hack your self-cleaning oven like Jeff, your dough won’t get that nice finish on the bottom unless you go with wood-fired cooking, and once you perfect your technique with the dough, that’s when you want to throw your Big Green Egg (or whatever else you can lay your hands on) into the mix.  Consider the value of these authorities as you develop your experience.

I’ll close with a fine example and tale from the other night.  I made two pizzas for our growing household (Maria and I, Nick staying up later, and Maria's mom with us for the winter months).  I made a more conventional pizza for the less ambitious:  Maria’s mom is skeptical about exotic toppings and just prefers pepperoni.  This one I cooked at 550 degrees in a convection oven on a fire brick pizza stone.   At the same time, I made a pizza for Maria and me.  The toppings consisted of a few tablespoons of what you might call a tapenade (more in a moment), a similar amount of arugula pesto, and generous amounts of freshly imported buffalo mozzarella.  The tapenade was an experiment that included 1/4 c of kalamata olives, a couple of anchovies, 1 T of capers and a single chipotle pepper in adobo sauce, all blended with a small amount of olive oil and salt.   This one was cooked on the Big Green Egg, and the difference in the crust was remarkable.  Both were great, but I can only imagine what we'll be able to do one when we have a wood-fired pizza oven.