Why is it that if you want a decent pizza you have to make it yourself? Maybe it’s different in big London but then I’m told the the streets are paved with gold down there too. Round here they seem to think that a wood-burning oven = good pizza but they turn out a topping on something that resembles a scorched tortilla.
The base is the thing. It’s made of bread dough and bread needs to rise. So when you see it go through a counter-top sheeter before your very eyes at the restaurant, have the topping slapped on and straight into the oven, you know you’re not in for a gastronomic delight.
A rule that should be broken: the “experts” tell us that toppings should be carefully considered and chosen, that a pizza is not an excuse for using up scraps and left-overs. At this point I don’t care if my creation is declared not to be a “proper” pizza. In this house the routine goes, “Fancy a Pizza for lunch today? What have we got in the fridge?”. Well yesterday we had left-over tomato sauce, some cold lamb, half a carton of aging mushrooms, half a large onion, the remains of a block of mozzarella plus some sliced red onion dressed in olive oil and rosemary.
It was jolly tasty.
Bum, just noticed I missed a bit of grated parmesan.
The PArtisan Baker 