This is What Good Pizza Contains

I had a fantastic day. I drove to Bed Bath and Beyond and picked up pizza stones for the church, and then I hit Goodman’s and got a great Escali food scale and a dough hook for the church’s mixer. From there, I headed to church, and I fired up the ovens and MADE ME SOME PIZZA.

The church has a Kitchenaid K5-A mixer made by Hobart. This is one of the old ones, before they went to plastic gears. The church got it from a failed business, I think. It’s in excellent condition. I slapped the hook on it and followed Mike’s instructions. The mixer cranked out 2.5 pounds of dough without struggling, but it was annoying to use. The dough climbed up the hook and ended up turning with it instead of being kneaded.

I like adding the water to the flour, instead of doing it the other way. This allows me to adjust the water content to my liking, and it doesn’t throw dry flour all over the kitchen, which is what can happen if you try to add flour to a moving mixer. The problem with my approach (which is also Mike’s approach) is that the dough starts out hard and gets softer as you add water. Hard dough likes to form a knob around the hook. I had to cut it loose with a knife and add water and start over. And the dough process, even if you don’t screw up, takes five minutes.

This, clearly, is lame. A food processor works in a minute and a half, and there is no way the dough can stick to the blade. An added benefit is that a food processor heats the dough, so it rises fast.

I proved the Kitchenaid will work, but it’s not for me. And it would be hard to show someone else how to use it.

Anyway, I made dough, and I waited for the ovens to heat, and then I made some pies. I had taken my pans home for additional seasoning, and boy, did it work. The Sicilian I made didn’t even try to stick. Beautiful. I need a small peel to get it from the pan to the stone, but things worked out.

I texted Pastor Rich, who didn’t get a single slice yesterday. He was in the kitchen before anyone else today. He wasn’t going to be done dirty a second time. He invited a few other people, and the pie was divided, and it was perfect. I had a slice for QC purposes, so I know. It was amazing. I was so glad. I wanted the church to have the best, and they had it.

I tried the hacked conventional gas oven with the new 575-degree thermostat. I had thought it was 550, but it turned out there was a graduation past that, and then there is one that just says “BROIL.” I made a thin pizza in it, and it didn’t seem to brown the crust as fast as my home oven, but the end result was beautiful. The crust baked up harder on the outside, which would seem to suggest the temperature was higher. It was actually a little better than the pies I’ve made at home. I don’t know whether it was the new stone, higher heat, or the mixer, but I have no worries about the oven’s capabilities now.

Both pizzas got raves. The church’s lawyer showed up, and he tried them. He’s an Italian from New York, and he said it was like the pizza up north. You can’t beat that testimony. Earlier in the day, Pastor Marcus, the guy who runs the kitchen, told a volunteer I made Sicilian better than they made it in New York, and he should know, since he grew up there. He said he would bet the volunteer $20 my pizza would be the best he ever ate. That felt pretty good. People were generally freaked out by the food.

The things that happened while I was making the pizzas were amazing. I felt like I was watching God prepare my path. Pastor Marcus and a volunteer came in, moved a crowded stack of shelves away from the left side of my refrigerated prep table, and put a stainless steel table there. I cleaned it off with Pine Sol and bleach, and I was ready to go. I stuck the mixer, my seasonings and oil, and the scale on it, and I was in business! It was beautiful. Twenty square feet of workspace. I told them I was going to put a mattress on it and stay there.

They’re going to put locks on the prep table so I can keep people out of my pizza junk and my stash of beverages. BAH HA HA HA HA. I OWN THE KITCHEN.

Perhaps I exaggerate.

I called Mike while I was working, and I could feel the waves of envy radiating from my cell phone. He says I’m not allowed to make garlic rolls until he can get here.

Is this what God’s favor is like? I sure hope so. The success I’ve had has been inexplicable. If I had been born with a gift for baking pizza, I would not have suffered years of failure. These recipes were handed to me, like Samson’s strength. Maybe I should stop cutting my hair.

I’ve decided I don’t mind having things handed to me. Pride is okay, but this is better. I felt like I was surfing God’s pipeline. It was bliss. I’ve been cursed, and I’ve been blessed, and blessed is better.

When Pastor Rich tried the pizza, he almost immediately cleared the expenditure for a food processor, so we’ll be getting a giant Kitchenaid Pro Line job. After that, I will be Godzilla, and pizza will be Japan. I’ll be able to crank out enough dough for two Sicilians every three minutes.

This is beautiful. I told Pastor Rich I’d rather be the guy in the kitchen, making the pizza, than the guys on the stage, singing and getting all the attention. I’m thrilled to be doing this.

He seems to think I’m nuts, but he is not complaining.

If I had five days a year that I enjoyed this much, I would consider myself lucky.

Note: I highly recommend the Escali 115C food scale. It weighs in tiny increments, it goes to ten pounds, and it STAYS ON FOR FOUR MINUTES so you don’t go crazy turning it on over and over.