I know I’ve made this before, but according to various blowhards on various food websites, what I make isn’t authentic. Authenticity is up for argument, I guess, but I do want to try something a little different. (The blowhards rail loudly in all caps that there is NO CORNMEAL or NO BUTTER in the crust.)
The interweb turns up three of the best – Lou Malnati’s, Gino’s, and Pizzeria Uno (not to be confused with the chain – this is the original). I stumble through site after site offering copycat recipes, tweaks, adjustments, and different ingredients. The blowhards appear often to shout down a suggestion of honey or sugar. I can’t seem to win. But let’s see how this goes:
The Crust:
I use three cups of bread flour (high protein/high gluten to get a chewy crust), ¾ cup of semolina, a generous drizzle of salt, one cup of slightly warm water, one teaspoon of yeast, two teaspoons of melted butter (suck it, blowhards), and sprinkle of sugar (that’s right, I said suck it). I mixed the dry ingredients first, letting the yeast proof in the water. Then I added the yeast water and let it ferment for about half an hour. It puts out a wonderful, yeasty, boozy smell. Then half a cup of corn oil, and a few glugs of olive oil go in, give it a quick knead and set it to rise. Again, there are too many recipes to consider, each claiming superiority and authenticity. This is kind of a mish-mash of everything I’ve read. It’s a very oily dough, and quite shaggy looking. I’m more used to a smoother bread-looking dough. I’m skeptical. It’s supposed to rise anywhere from two hours on the counter to twenty-four hours in the fridge. I plan to eat this tonight, so I let it rise on the counter for six hours. More rising means more fermenting means more flavor.
BRAAAAAIIINNNNZZZZ!
The toppings:
Keeping it simple – just one pepperoni and two sausages.
In the meantime, I need to figure out how to do hot Italian sausage in one flat layer, instead of hearty crumbles. Some internet posters are insistent that the flat layer is the only true authentic way, so I set my mind to it. It seems like the easiest thing to do is form disks in the pizza pans and bake it. Hopefully it will shrink up enough to fit inside the crust.
It worked! I am a genius.
Famous pizza chefs from all over the country will praise my ingenuity and originality. Are there any famous pizza chefs? Wolfgang Puck maybe? Call me, Wolfie. My husband, however, is grossed out by my giant sausage patties. More for me.
Now cheese – this is easy. Just over half a pound each of mozzarella and provolone get sliced and set aside for the grand event.
Now sauce – ugh. The blowhards blow hard on this one – not as much as with the crust though. Some insist it’s just diced tomatoes, salt, and pepper. Some give variations of Marcella Hazan’s tomato onion sauce. Everyone, it seems, has a brother who worked at Lou’s or lives down the street from Gino’s, and has it on good authority. Again I have to do my best – I end up with a large can of diced tomatoes, which I drain, then salt, then drain again to remove as much moisture as possible. I’m left with a bowl of damp tomatoes. I can’t resist throwing in a little Penzey’s Pizza Seasoning, which is amazing, and half a large can of crushed tomatoes to make it a little smoother and saucier.
And it’s assembly time: The crust has risen up to fluffy, but is still a little oily and shaggy. I grease the pans with crystallized cottonseed oil (look it up. It’s fancy!) per one poster’s tip, and try to press the dough into the pans. This is not working. The trusty rolling pin comes out – the more I work the dough, the less it wants to work, so I have to move quickly. It goes just fine after that and I end up with three lovely deep dish crusts.
Then a layer of cheese – a thick layer, of course. Then one pan gets a sheet of pepperoni, and the other two get the flying sausage saucers, which work beautifully.
That’s my camera strap in the corner. I am a talented photographer, yes I am.
Then a layer of sauce, a hearty shake of parmesan cheese (yes, from the green can), and some green sprinkles on top for color.
They go into the oven at 450 for 20-30 minutes – until the crust is brown and cheese is bubbling merrily through the sauce.
Om nom nom.
Nom.
The verdict? I have to say, I like my usual sauce a little better – the chunky tomatoes don’t do it for me, and I showed too much restraint with the seasoning in my quest for authenticity. So basically I discovered that in a battle between authenticity and flavor, I’m probably going for flavor every time. The crust was lovely though, crisp and flavorful. I’ll definitely incorporate bread flour into my old recipe to see how it works, and using Crisco to grease the pans helped the bottom of the crust get crisp. I also used whole-milk mozzarella instead of the part-skim, which is all I can find at the grocery. It made for more flavor and the long, stretchy cheese strings that you wrap around your finger and drop into your mouth. I’ll have to keep an eye out for more.
The dishes for this project were legion, and it took the better part of a day, but the hot Italian sausage was a nice touch I’d never tried before, and I still have two more thick and tasty pizzas to eat. Fight all you want about New York versus Chicago. I will remain Switzerland-neutral and eat while you’re fighting.
illdothedisheslater 