This is Better Than the Holy Hand Grenade

Guess what I ate today?

THE BEST PIZZA I EVER HAD.

It’s getting monotonous, typing that once a week.

Not really. It’s actually pretty great.

I worked in my church’s kitchen today, making Sicilian pizza. I branched out from cheese and added pepperoni.

Ordinarily, pepperoni is not my favorite topping. It tends to be very greasy and salty and acidic, and sometimes it’s too spicy. I don’t like spicy stuff on pizza. It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just that non-spicy stuff is usually better. I don’t even use black pepper in the sauce. So I was very shocked when I tried a slice of pepperoni pizza I made. It was phenomenal.

We were not able to find pepperoni at Costco or GFS, so last night I had to pick some up at a Super Walmart. It was 36¢ an ounce! Insane. And I thought each pie would take about four ounces. But when I was applying it today, I found that I used less than an ounce per pie. I guess I could have doubled it, but an ounce covered the pie pretty well.

It was perfect. There wasn’t enough pepperoni to stink up the pie or make orange grease run off of it. It was more like a seasoning than a topping. It gave the pizza character. The pepperoni scent mingled with the yeasty crust aroma and danced in my nostrils. I’m going to start using pepperoni at home. I never thought I’d do that.

Well. I guess I won’t do it at home. At least not often. I don’t have the metabolism I need to eat pizza at home.

This stuff would kill, with thin-sliced green peppers, onions, and GFS faux kalamatas. For nine bucks a gallon, those things are superb.

I got better at timing the services today, so we sold maybe 12 pies this time. That’s 50% more than last week. I’m not sure of the number, but that’s probably right. I went through about 84 ounces of prepared sauce.

I sold three pies in boxes, undivided. It’s a big confidence booster when someone orders a whole pie and waits 8 minutes for it. I was ready. I bought boxes at GFS last week.

I laid a lot of dough out in advance today, so when pies were required, I’d have the stuff ready to go. This made a big difference. I ended up throwing out four unbaked crusts, but as I pointed out to someone who asked me about the dough in the trash, we threw out 80¢, and if we have used even one crust, we would have made $12.00.

We had a problem with people seeing the pizza and thinking, “Hmm…church pizza.” Next time, we’re going to advertise it as “made from scratch” or something. It’s no good to make pizza from scratch if people think it fell out of a cardboard box from Sysco.

Thin pizza will be easier to do, although we may need another stone for mathematical reasons. When you stretch a Sicilian, you have to let it rise for at least an hour afterward, if you really want it to knock your customers unconscious. Thin pizza goes from toss to screen with no resting. I could make three dozen dough portions at 8:00 and sit on my butt after that. No more cranking up the industrial mixer three times a day.

That thing is a pill, by the way. I am not stupid enough to tell people not to get Kitchenaid K5-A mixers, because I know they rock for many purposes, but for pizza dough, it’s just wrong. With a food processor, I’m always done in under three minutes, and I never have a significant problem, and the dough is consistent. With the K5-A, the mixing is very slow and haphazard, and you have to keep fiddling with the hydration (i.e. “water”). And it’s a pain to use, too. I don’t want to go into the mechanics, but it’s no fun at all.

People kept coming into the kitchen to ask if I had REALLY made that pizza. I enjoyed that. They kept saying it was the best pizza they had ever tasted. How can you top that? That’s the best praise you can hope for. They were asking me to teach them to make it.

I have an apprentice now, by the way. Ricardo. He will be meeting me on Thursday so we can bake for the lunch crowd. I have to plot and scheme to convince him that the worst parts of the job are actually the best, so he’ll want to do them all the time. But I have a feeling I’ll fail.

For the rest of my life, I will be convinced that God showed me how to make Sicilian pizza. Luck like this is too far-out not to have an explanation.