illdothedisheslater

Someone on a food website I frequent recently put it best: the worst pizza you’ve ever had was still better than the best kale.  I don’t know anyone who actively dislikes pizza – it may not be your favorite food, but to genuinely NOT like it?  To quote Ralph Wiggum, “That’s unpossible!”

Now remember the best pizza you’ve ever had.  For me it’s like trying to pick a favorite movie or song – it has to be subdivided into genres/moods/levels of appetite.  Thin drippy foldable New York style?  Love it.  Rustic woodoven Napolitano?  Love it.  Something weird with figs and goat cheese?  Greasy delivery?  Frozen on a cardboard disk?  Well it’s better than kale.  When my husband and I started dating a million years ago, he was living in Chicago.  On my first visit up there he (decidedly a non-foodie) took me to Giordano’s, where I had my first ever experience with authentic Chicago deep dish.  I can still remember when that massive bread bowl full of what seemed like gallons of hot bubbling cheese landed on the table.  The waitress deftly lifted out a slice, stretched the cheese for at least two feet, then neatly severed the strand and placed it before me.  An obssession was born, or possibly had been hatched, lying dormant in my soul for lo these many years.  Damn good stuff.

With a little trial and error, I’ve come up with my best version – and I think I may have done them one better (sacrilege?)  The last time my sainted brother brought back a half-baked frozen Giordano’s from a trip up Nawth, it was good… But I think I might like this better.  Also, this is capital-C Cooking, and I get to use all sorts of gadgets like my stand mixer and a rolling pin.

First the crust – wars have been fought over what constitutes an “authentic” Chicago crust – the idea of adding sugar, butter, or cornmeal have probably caused more than a few divorces and disownments.  My view is this: screw authenticity if it tastes good.  The crust recipe comes from America’s Test Kitchen, and is as follows:

3 ¼ cups all-purpose flour

½ cup yellow cornmeal

2 tsp. table salt

2 tsp. sugar

2 ¼ tsp. instant or fast-rising yeast

1 ¼ cup water

3 tblsp. melted butter

4 tblsp. softened butter

In a stand mixer with the dough hook attachment, mix the dry ingredients thoroughly at low speed.  Add the water and melted butter and mix at medium speed for 4-5 minutes.  At this point I realized I didn’t read the recipe closely enough and added 1 ½ cups of water, which made the dough waaaaay too wet and sticky.  I added more flour by the tablespoon until it looked right.  The dough will come together to form a ball and climb up the hook.  Using your fingers (one of my fave cooking directions), coat a decent-sized round bowl with a tablespoon of olive oil.  Carefully transfer the dough into the bowl and flip it around a bit so all sides get a little oily.  Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let it rise at room temperature for one hour.

(While the mixer mixes, I belt out songs from Oklahoma! at the top of my lungs, as my husband is out of the house, and the mixer noise drowns out the worst of my stinkier notes.  Also, Oklahoma! was on PBS last week, so it’s stuck in my head, as is the bright golden haze that is Hugh Jackman.)

I use the rising time to start tackling an impending laundry crisis, and also to musically implore an imaginary cowboy type to give back my rose and my glove.

Now the fun part – laminating the dough.  After an hour, the dough should have risen to twice its original size, or about as high as an elephant’s eye.  Roll the dough out into an 15 inch by 12 inch rectangle on a lightly floured surface.  Using an off-set spatula, spread the softened butter evenly and gently over the surface, leaving about a half-inch border unbuttered.

Random memory: an old friend from high school used to refer to getting drunk as getting buttered.  Even as a high schooler, I thought that sounded dumb.

Starting at a short end, roll the dough up as tightly as possible without smushing it too much.  Flatten the dough roll slightly, and chop in half.  Pinch the four seams and tuck the ends under each half of the dough to form two balls.  Back in the bowl they go, to rise in the fridge for another hour.  Laminating puts layers of butter in between layers of dough.  It will chill and harden in the fridge, so that when it goes in the oven the butter will melt, creating pockets of steam and a flaky biscuit-like texture.  By now, of course, poor Judd is dead.

Pour one tablespoon of olive oil each into two 9-inch round cake pans, and using  your fingers (yay!) coat the bottom and sides.  More dough rolling fun!  Roll each dough ball into an 11-inch circle and drape into 9-inch round cake pans.  Try not to handle the dough too much, thereby melting the butter with your hot sticky fingers.  The oil in the pans will almost lightly fry the dough, making it crispy and golden on the bottom.

Now the filling.  These two pies will contain a staggering entire pound of cheese.  “Whoa, that’s a lot of cheese!” my husband exclaims as he comes in from his movie, and I hastily hide any evidence of a one-woman dream ballet.  I go for half mozzarella and half provolone – they’re both melty stretchy cheeses, and the provolone gives a little more flavor than straight mozzarella would.  (Never, never say “mootzarell” in my presence.)  Remember that talk we had about cubed cheese versus shredded?  Remember when I said my pans weren’t gross, they were just well seasoned?

The sauce goes on top of the cheese – in direct opposition to every other pizza.  This is “my” recipe, kinda.  It’s just one small can of crushed tomatoes, and 1 ½ tablespoons of Penzey’s Pizza Seasoning.  No tedious chopping of onions or garlic, nor cooking and stirring – this simple sauce will cook while the pizza bakes.  It tastes fresh and tomato-y.  I am halving this recipe, since I’m going for two different types of pizza – one traditional pepperoni (to finish this one just put pepperoni on it – see?)

The other is for my sainted brother who has given up all of the most delicious meats and will only eat “birds and fish”.  So I promised him some sort of bird pizza.  I spread 1 ½ cups of cooked chicken over the cheese, half a small yellow onion (red would be prettier, but I don’t have one), and drizzle the top with barbecue sauce.   I also add some cubed cheddar and parsley, because it’s ugly – hey hey – it’s ugly.

They go into a preheated oven at 425 to par-bake for 10 minutes.  Once my company arrives, I will put them back in at 425 for another 15 minutes.

Here’s the finished product to which, of course, one can’t say no.

Pepperoni Deep Dish Pizza

Bird Pizza