Turn That Dumpy Electric Oven into a Brick Oven

Please pay no attention to that laval field in the middle of that pizza. That’s not what we’re here to discuss (I think that splotchiness is due to an excess amount of sauce, I’ll investigate more today). What is important is dat crust. Look at it! Charred yet flaky. Crunchy yet solid. It’s the outline, the pizza border signifying where this pizza’s domain begins an ends. It’s the type of barrier you see in your dreams or in a restaurant that’s home to a brick oven. But hey, I made this pizza in an electric oven thereby throwing the entire pizza-baking hierarchy out of whack. 

The pizza you see above is from Mercurio’s. I’ve included a photo of “true brick oven pizza” for crust reference. Not too far off. 

To achieve crispness, you gotta learn to embrace the broiler in your oven. Brick ovens cook pizzas between 900 and 1200 degrees Fahrenheit and most electric ovens won’t get hotter than 550 degrees. I’m sure that limit is the result of years of brick oven lobbyist in an effort to secure their domain, but those days are over. 

The broiler is the key to excess heat. Once the oven is raised to its max, you’ll need to open the door to trick the oven into thinking it is cooling off. Meanwhile, there should be a pizza stone hiding in the oven absorbing all the heat. It’ll remain piping hot while the ambient heat leaks out. Once the oven releases some heat (usually only 30 seconds) you can shut the door and turn the broiler on. I’m not sure of the science, but what you get is a pizza stone that exceeds the temperature limit.

Keeping the stone four inches from the broiler is important so that the entire production cooks in harmony. Let the pizza stone and broiler sit alone in the oven for 10 minutes, then you can put your dough/sauce/cheese/whatever in. 

It’s a novel approach to getting a different type of pizza out of your oven. You might have to mess around with the formula, but if your'e dying for that brick oven taste give this a shot. You probably won’t be disappointed. Who knows!

Enrolling in My Pizza University

I’ve been on the market for pizza literature for a long time. While I’m working on baking a delicious fiction novel about a pizza detective who needs to solve Mozzarellaburgh’s crust problem, I thought I’d whet my appetite with some non-fiction. Jim Lahey made a big splash in the bread industry with his no knead recipe. If you recall, I tried out his no knead pizza dough recipe some months back. It went okay. 

His book, My Pizza, is full of sage advice and encourages readers to think outside the marinara sauce and apply some freaky toppings to the dough. It’s the perfect book for any pizza enthusiast looking for some inspiration. I can do without the recipes (it all boils down to putting whatever you like on the dough anyways), but Lehey has figured out a way to get neopolitan style pizza using an electric oven. That’s what pulled me in, and from reading his method it doesn’t sound unbelievable.

The key to that charred (yet delicious) crust is to broil the pizza. It shouldn’t be in the oven for longer than ten minutes, but as long as the dough sites four inches from a blazing broiler you’ll be in business. I made up some dough tonight and I’m looking forward to checking it out. I’ll be sure to post some photos. 

I haven’t made it all the way through My Pizza, but it bodes well. Hopefully I’ll learn a thing or two to help me grow as a pizza journalist. I already learned that “pepperoni” in Italian is plural for pepper! Isn’t that fun. 

I was sent this video by a local pizza expert today. It features a women who “just doesn’t care” and sometimes “just can’t care” about the wait for pizza that’s considered the best in the world. Pizzeria da Michele, in Naples, Italy was featured in Eat, Pray, Love (which was no coincidence), but if you can stick it out through the video you’ll see some of the freshest most amazing pizza to ever be made in a country shaped like a boot.

Brick Oven Pizza Sunday! Enjoy the photos chronicling a young pizza’s journey in a 1000 degree oven. 

Pizza Delivery Guy Robbed at Gunpoint in Pittsburgh →

I’ve spent my formative years delivering pizzas to all walks of life. In the suburbs I worked the night shift, delivering piping hot pies to divorced dad’s trying to perk up their kids. I’d be the life of the party when bringing five large pizzas to a bouncing house (my first party experience, really). I’d turn down drink offers and drive back to the restaurant thinking I had the coolest job.

In the city, things were a bit different. Deliveries to the heart of Highland Park and Wilkinsburg were considered dangerous by the old guard. Clientele tipped poorly and gas seemed to evaporate faster during deliveries. I felt safe on my deliveries and never declined an order because it was in a shady area.

It’s a shame when things like this happen. Most delivery drivers carry less than $100 dollars and the money that is stolen is mostly tips that goes directly to the driver. Pretty messed up. 

Pizza Review: Ledo's Pizza in Deep Creek, Maryland

I had the pleasure to visit Deep Creek, Maryland with some rascals. It’s a sleepy town that exists for folks to sail their boats, pretend they’re a squid in a man-made lake, or make an army of grilled cheese on a grill. Right next to the larger-than-life liquor store is Ledo’s Pizza. It’s one of the last stops before a cove of lake houses, so it ends up attracting customers like dopey moths wandering towards a bright light out of convenience. 

While my comrades were busy juggling bottles of cherries soaked in whiskey, pounds of beer,  and a grotesque amount of booze that hobos pray wait for them in heaven, I went to Ledo’s Pizza. Their entrance was quaint. Fake bricks and decor screamed “Hey, we’re probably Italian” a mirage that didn’t work on me, no matter my level of hunger. I thought about leaving behind a Foursquare tip to warn others, but even that level of slacktivism seemed over the top.

Instead of a circle, they sprawl their pizzas out in rectangles. They’re used to serving families so this format suits them perfectly, not a young man who’s idea of a serving of pizza is one large pie.  It’s a novelty that leaves crust enthusiasts behind. Only a portion of the pizza has a handle so after the outside walls of the pizza are demolished all hell breaks loose. Like a pizza prison break.

Crust or no crust, this pizza is something that would be served at a prison. An upscale prison, not the Eastern State Penitentiary (unless Steve Buscemi was in charge of the cafeteria). It’s flimsy, like a sheet of wax paper, and flops with the sauce and cheese. You can see why a crust is needed. 

It’s a shame the engineering of this pizza is poor because the sauce and cheese are passable. Nothing to write your ma home about, but it’s something I wouldn’t mind eating. If Ledo’s wanted to up their game, they need to evolve from that rectangle and work on a circle. There’s a reason pizzas are round, Mr. Ledo. No one wants to be forced into using a fork and knife to enjoy their pizza. They don’t even get those tools in prison and this is prison quality pizza!

Went back to Mercurio’s for more Neapolitan pizza. My friend Shawn was in town for a wedding, so I had to impress.

I opted for the Bianca, a white pizza with basil and tomatoes resting on top. Dang. Just dang. It’s a shame I don’t have an IV bag full of this pizza just pumping into my veins.

Pizza Recipe: Pan Fried Pizza, Perfect for Leftover Dough

A few weeks ago I made some cold-fermented pizza dough. The recipe I used resulted in more dough than I could handle which meant I had to move it fast. It was like I was the leader of a pizza cartel that was trafficking dough. Could I get rid of the dough before the next shipment came in? What if we had a rat inside the kitchen? I couldn’t risk being caught, so I got rid of the evidence by pan frying some pizza. 

Pizza is such a simple creation. As long as you have crispy dough, red sauce, and a bit of gooey cheese not much else matters. Pizzas are built on that crust which means it’s under a fair amount of scrutiny. If the crust holds up the pizza is passable. When you make fried pizza dough, it’s betting hard on that concept. The crust will be so crispy and piping hot that you’ll forget that the sauce is room temperature and the cheese dotting the surface has yet to bubble. 

Getting Started

You’ll need some dough. It can be refrigerated, but I let it sit at room temperature for an hour. Before you’re ready to toss the dough to its death, heat a pan up and coat it with a bit of olive oil. Too much results in quite the miss. Oil start slipping and sliding, panic sets in, and before you know you start a grease fire in your kitchen. Not that that’s ever happened in my kitchen.

The dough should sit in the pan for only a few minutes. It’ll puff up like a whoopee cushion almost instantly. There’s some science that explains this (the reaction of yeast and hot oil?) but I have no idea why it happens. One of the many mysteries of pizza. 

After two-three minutes you can flip your dough and reveal the crisp bottom layer. It looks like it’s been in a brick over for a few minutes when in actuality it’s been drowning face-first in some hot oil! While it’s sitting in the pan, it’s time to add your toppings. I keep it light since there’s not a lot of heat on that surface. Unless you’re okay putting raw ingredients in your stomach, I’d stick with just the sauce and cheese. 

A few sizzling minutes later and your pizza is complete. 

Some may scoff at the combination of slighty-cold ingredients on the roof of the pizza, but I disagree. I’m a fan of the juxtaposition. Makes my tastebuds feel alive. Plus, it’s refreshing to be able to eat pizza without instantly destroying the roof of my mouth thanks to difficult-to-chew cheese.