The Alkan of Pizzaioli

January 29th, 2010

The Summit is in Sight

The Sicilian I made was beyond description, and it was STILL flawed. I don’t know what to make of it.

I tried Cento San Marzano tomatoes on one half and Stanislaus Saporito on the other. I used a heavy dose of Costco cheese (13 ounces on 9 x 12). I baked it on my cheap, thin GFS cookie sheet, on the bottom rack.

This time, instead of forcing the tomatoes to stand on their own, I added sugar and white vinegar, just as I do to my regular sauce. Last time, with the fake San Marzanos, I held back the sugar and vinegar, because the tomatoes were touted as superior and fit to be served with only salt, pepper, and oregano.

This pie is now the best pizza I’ve ever eaten, beating the mark set by a pie I made earlier in the week. The heavy cheese, more than the sauce, made the difference. That Costco cheese is pure magic. I think elves make it. It brings out the best in the sauce and crust. It melts beautifully. It’s stretchy. It’s a pretty, uniform white. Can’t beat it.

The tomatoes were surprisingly good. If I am tasting what I’m supposed to be tasting, San Marzanos have a strange and satisfying aftertaste that goes perfectly with cheese and pizza crust. It adds a dimension to the pizza. Still, they’re a little weak. If I were making this again, I’d just use the tomatoes and dump the puree that comes in the can with them. As it was, I used very little of it. I suppose a real psycho would reduce the sauce.

The extra punch of the Saporito makes it better than the San Marzanos, but I would be very content to save the driving distance and use Cento tomatoes instead of driving all the way to Gordon Food Service. If I had to put a number on it, I’d say Stanislaus Saporito is 15% better.

I learned something new about baking Sicilian. You need to rotate the pie, just like they do in pizzerias. Until now, they’ve been pretty uniform on the bottom, but this one was a little off. From now on, I’ll give them 10 minutes, with a turn at 5. No, 7. The first two minutes probably don’t do anything.

Another thing I did to make it brown better: before I slid it in, I opened the oven door and let it cool until the bottom element turned on. I waited until it was red hot to put the pizza in. That way, I was sure I’d get a lot of radiant heat on the bottom of the pan.

I’m positive a disposable aluminum pan is the best thing you can use for Sicilian, but I don’t plan to try it any time soon. I’m thinking I might start using a flat aluminum cookie sheet. Aluminum carries and distributes heat better than steel, and tonight I noticed that the unsupported side of the pizza, in the middle of the pan, was very good. It didn’t have the fried nature of the sides that were supported, but it was browned more. That’s acceptable. To make good Sicilian at 550° in a home oven without a lot of aggravation and tricks, you need a pan that will get hot really fast and spread the heat well.

If there is better pizza than this anywhere on earth, I have yet to encounter it. I am astonished by it. I guess I could let the dough poof up a little more, or I could make a sourdough or something, but there is such a thing as gilding the lily.

I think I’m done making thin pizza. I love it, but it can’t compare to this stuff.

I’ll give you the sauce recipe.

INGREDIENTS

4 ounces Cento San Marzano tomatoes (real ones), beaten to a puree
1 teaspoon light olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sugar
generous sprinkle of salt
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon dry oregano
1/2-1 teaspoon white vinegar

That’s all you need to know.

Now I have to throw out half the pie. I should be arrested for defacing art.

I’m convinced God gives me recipes for a reason. Food this good, cooked by someone as ignorant as I am, can’t be a pointless accident. But what’s the purpose?

6 Responses to “The Alkan of Pizzaioli”

  1. walt Says:

    Well, you are kind enough to share with us and we thank you!

  2. Ed Bonderenka Says:

    There’s money to be made in good pizza, right? Maybe someone reading will run with it and get blessed. Maybe someone(s) in your church.

  3. HTRN Says:

    See? I told you so.

    And oh, the reason for the juice is simple: Tariffs. If they’re packed with more juice, they’re considered “Juice” vs. the typical “whole pack” of American Tomatoes. I would either discard, or reduce it to sauce like consistency.

  4. pbird Says:

    Betcha that sauce would be good on anything but maybe ice cream. I have to think positively about this no pizza thing. I love sauces like that on cottage cheese. Really.

  5. Cliff Says:

    Hmm, we used to pull the pie out around halfway through and take a good look at it to make sure it didn’t need a “fix”

    “Hey, who was the idiot who put two pounds of roni on this zar? You think we’re made of money?”

    That sort of thing.

    And we used to do a little wrist thing that spun them back in, but I do not recall being *told* to do it for any reason. It was just part of the art. Like getting no more than three spins when tossing the crust.

    But we always put it in a different part of the oven, too, so making it cook more evenly wouldn’t be very smart.

    We used to de-pan our “squares” (Sicilian) and pop them in for the last five minutes or so. I hated that b/c you had to handle the pie in the open oven and it was easy to burn yourself.

    -XC

  6. Steve H. Says:

    There are so many tricks that might fix the crust, I have no idea where to start. I thought it would be impossible to remove the pie and put it on the stone, but I can work it out if I turn the stone sideways and put it on an upper rack. It also occurred to me that if I use a skillet, I can put the skillet on the stove for a couple of minutes right after I put the pizza in it. That should get the crust cooking, and then I could finish the pie in the oven.
    .
    The pizza is great now, but it would be nice if I could give it a minute on the stone.