— What Christa told me in her sleep. Even in people’s dreams I’m making okay pizza.
I don’t know how you reheat your own pizza. That is, if there’s pizza leftover. Am I right fellow pizza gluttons?
In a rare turn of events, there was a single slice of pizza leftover from last night’s pizza adventure. I’m not proud. But, tonight I was able to take advantage of the sole survivor. But how am I supposed to take care of this POP (Prisoner of Pizza)?
Well, I don’t have a microwave like 99% of people. I don’t have a toaster oven. So, having leftover pizza is more of a burden than anything else. But I persevered. I found a somewhat inventive way to reheat pizza that keeps the pizza-integrity in check and doesn’t give you the weird mushy that you get when you microwave pizza.
As you can see above, it starts with a skillet. I turn it on medium heat and coat the bottom with olive oil. This is the most vital part of reviving a pizza form its refrigerated state.
Once you have your pizza up on your skillet, dancing in a little bit of hot olive oil you gotta do something crazy. Get a tiny bit of water and toss it on the skillet. Not the part of the skillet that has the pizza. Obviously. But around the pizza. This creates a ton of steam that cooks the top of the pizza while the crust is sizzling.
To capture that steam you’re going to need some sort of “lid.” In this case I used a ton of aluminum foil. This helped the top reheat at the same time the bottom was cooking in that oil.
After 10 minutes on medium heat you get…
A nicely melted pizza. It’s perfect. The crust is rejuvenated with that bit of oil. And the cheese on top is infused with that humidity and steam to make it more than edible. It’s a second chance at pizza life. Unfortunately, that only means it’s going to be eaten.
It’s the number one preferred way to reheat pizza. In a skillet! So go. It takes a bit more time, but it’s 100% better than reheating it in a microwave.
It’s Thanksgiving and I’m obviously thankful for pizza. It’s true. When I’m sitting at the Thanksgiving table getting ready to blurt out what I’m thankful for I’m going to say “Pizza.” There will be a few disgusted looks and chortles, but I’m sticking by my passion.
In honor of Thanksgiving I thought I’d compile some of the more inventive combinations of pizza and Thanksgiving.
This is as literal as you can get. Luckily, this nightmarish creation is from an Onion article about Domino’s foray into Thanksgiving pizza.
Have leftover turkey, stuffing, and other miscellaneous Thanksgiving treats? Combine them for an elegant pizza as seen above. This elegant creation is from Manhattan’s La Bottega Italian restaurant. Full recipe for after Thanksgiving pizza here.
Here’s another variation of post-Thanksgiving pizza. This one has more cheddar cheese and a biscuit pizza crust.
A vegan Thanksgiving pizza combined all the veggies and vegan-friendly products to create a mashup that borders on absurdity. There’s a comprehensive outline on how to create this vegan delicacy over at veganpizzafuckyeah.tumblr.com.
In the news, a Pizza Hut owner decided to shut down his store on Thanksgiving and was promptly fired. Luckily, the manager that was fired, Rohr, will have his job back after Thanksgiving. It’s kind of a shame that a) he was fired and b) this was considered a controversial and daring move by the manager. What a world!
Hope you have a blessed pizza Thanksgiving. And when it comes to story time, please don’t hesitate to share the true story of Thanksgiving and Pizzagiving in Pizza History.
What’s better than a pizza? How about like eight pizzas. Eight pizzas that are birthed at a house with the help if eight people.
Don’t get me wrong, pizza is great on its own. But there’s something melancholy about eating an entire pizza yourself then turning to your left and right looking for someone to brag about your achievement.
I guess social media fills that role, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less bloated. Which is why pizza + friends = P-P-PIZZA PARADISE
Last Summer I was invited to a pizza-making party at Chad’s place. Chad is real into pizza. Like legit pizza enthusiast. That’s him up above and his (blurry) pizza. His secret? A sauce recipe that’s passed down from his grandmother. A sauce formula so potent that it left his face mangled. Man. Poor Chad. He’ll never be able to open up a pizza shop with a mug like that.
I did my part to bring the annoyingly-traditional pizza to the party. As you can see it’s humble, tiny, and contains almost no cheese. Does a traditional pizza play in a party setting? You’d think someone who runs a pizza blog would know better.
It looked meager compared to Chad’s pizza bonanza, but sometimes great pizza comes in traditional packages. The gang was really wowed by my sauce, but I’ll never tell my secret…
I felt my pizza was exquisite, but it might have just been the company. Being able to share my favorite past-time with a group of pals only enriches the pizza experience.
I swear no one there is on the verge of tossing up their pizza. Totally promise.
A possible downside is that when you’re cooking up a hodge-podge of tiny pizzas you gotta slice and dice those suckers. Which means some people don’t get to handle the soft, pillowy crust.
My tactic has always been to elbow everyone out of the way and stack a plate full of crust. Let the wild dogs deal with the crust-less pizza in the middle. Those animals.
Bottom line: Pizza with friends is pretty legit. 100% of the time it’s better than eating alone because you get to share the cultural experience of pizza. As a team you can dismantle a pizza, discuss what destroys your tastebuds and how pizza makes you feel alive.
I’ve also noticed that when you have pizza coursing through your veins, your guard drops a little and you become way more honest. It’s like a naturally occurring truth serum. This probably happens because packed into every triangle of pizza are years of memories waiting to be absorbed into your bloodstream.
As downtown Pittsburgh begins to revitalize, one of the driving forces behind its resurgence is pizza. In the past few years there have been a suspicious amount of restaurants serving ”authentic” pizza in the area. Places like Winghart’s, Il Pizzaiolo, and Stone. It’s nice that in a half-mile radius you can grab a dozen different types of pizza. If you collect them all I can guarantee no two will be the same, but you’ll probably be barfing into one of the rivers. Maybe that’s why we have so many rivers? In case of our sudden gluttony.
The newest addition to Pittsburgh’s Pizza Club is Proper. Proper Brick Over and Tap Room, to be long-winded.
Proper promises a proper dining experience that any human should be proud of—a draft list that encompasses an entire alphabet of beer; a finely-tuned menu focused on pizza, pasta and sandwiches; and the option for incidental bacon. The latter surprised me. For sure I thought we were over the “bacon makes everything” better culinary phase?
Let’s talk pizza. When I visited I had the Margherita. It’s the most basic of pizzas and if you can’t make a margherita right you’re in trouble. And take a look! It looks like a pizza, but what are those charred bits on top?
Bacon. I made an executive decision to put bacon on this pizza. A type of pizza that, for so long, has survived in the wild without the use of bacon. It’d be like putting a spoiler onto your Dodge Neon. Completely unnecessary.
The bacon isn’t just any bacon it’s house-cured black pepper bacon. And when you put it on the pizza-stage it only takes away from the experience. It’s a blemish on an otherwise ideal pizza. I resorted to picking off some of the bacon halfway through the pie, but the damage was done. Pools of grease dotted the pizza like boils on a victim of a plague. The melted mozzarella lakes were just a tad darker. The bacon had left its mark and it was a sad state of affairs.
Despite the bacon carnage, a mistake I hope you don’t make, the pizza was high-quality. The crust had a crispy edge, but pillowy-soft inside. It’s easy to shovel slice after slice into your mouth because it’s just so soft. It’s like eating rectangular bliss.
While the outside of the pizza was perfect, the middle was a bit undercooked. Resulting in a thin, floppy pizza. Great for folding, but I was hoping for a bit more of a crunch when my teeth penetrated the basil, sauce, and cheese. Pizza just taste better when it at least sounds like it’s putting up a fight.
The Margherita I devoured was prepared right on the premises in this wood-fired oven. The oven rests right in the middle of the restaurant. Pizza smell radiates from within, filling your nostrils with succulent scents. There are other things on the menu, but I’m not sure how you can not order a pizza in a place like this.
When the pizza had vanished I was in a pretty great mood. The Margherita was great, it has some character, but stays safely within the definition of what a Margherita pizza is. If you’re in downtown Pittsburgh looking for pizza from Italy, it’s a nice place to stop into. Chances are they’ll have a perfect beer to pair with it.