Pizza Night Partial FAIL

Those who may think that pizza night chez Blork comes off without a hitch should prepare themselves for disillusionment.

Saturday was not only pizza night, it was pizza night for four, as we were “entertaining” the nephews. I never know how much food to prepare for a 10- and 12-year old, and I’m always surprised at how little they eat (an observation that I choose to not take personally). So I figured I’d make the usual two 12-inch pies for Martine and I, and make two similar sized pies for the boys — with the expectation that there would be leftovers. (It’s better to have more than you need than less than you need.)

The first order of business was to feed the boys. Being 21st century children, they are naturally entitled to receive that which pleases them and to reject that which doesn’t. As such, there was no point in adding mushrooms, peppers, arugula, or a host of other things that I would consider normal pizza ingredients. Fortunately, that old standby, pepperoni, was acceptable (as was olives, but a pepperoni and olive pizza is just wrong). So I planned for two pepperoni and cheese pizzas for the boys (made one after the other, as I can only make one at a time), followed by a classic Margherita with mozzerela di bufala to be shared by Martine and I, followed by a prosciutto and arugula pie which we would also share.

The problems started with the dough, which I bought fresh from Chez Milano that afternoon. As you may be aware, it is winter, so the kitchen is not as warm as bread dough would like it to be. That means a long, slow rise. But kids eat earlier than we’re used to, so I had to try to stretch out the dough before it was ready.

Unready dough is highly elastic. Elastic in that when you stretch it out, it springs back. After fighting with the first piece of dough, I ended up with a nine-inch, fairly thick pie instead of the hoped-for 12-inch thinner one.

Whatever. I dressed it with my simple sauce*, a sprinkle of oregano, a nice layer of pepperoni, and a good pile of freshly grated mozzerela cheese. Into the 550 oven it went, onto the terra-cotta tiles that had been pre-heating for almost an hour.

OK, that one worked out. The dough rised up and was as puffy as can be, but in a nice way. It had a warm and moist interior, a lightly crispy crust, and just a hint of char (you can’t get a proper char from an electric oven).

While the boys were eating that one, I went to work on the second pie. It was slightly less springy, resulting in a 10-inch pie, which is a move in the right direction. I dressed it the same way, but something went awry because as I was shaking it off the peel and onto the tiles, it stuck to the peel (all it takes is one rogue drop of sauce). I gave it a big shake and it came off the peel but a big load of sauce and cheese spilled over the dough’s lip and onto the hot tiles. Whoops!

A few minutes later the pie was oddly shaped, but still looking good, and ready to come out. It looked a bit smoky in the oven, and when I opened the door a massive blue plume billowed out. The next few minutes involved a lot of running around opening windows, un-plugging smoke detectors, etc. Then, before I had even cut the pizza, the boys declared that they were no longer hungry, to which I made a very purposeful mental note to not take it personally.

Fine. It was time to make the Margherita. The dough stretched out to a puffy ten inches, which I covered with sauce and unevenfully put into the still rather smoky oven. Then I set about cutting up the mozzerela di buffala, which I’ve learned to put on part way through the process so as not to overcook it. Unfortunately, in my haste I neglected to drain it very well, so it had an unusually high level of moisture. I also cut enough off the ball for a 14 inch pizza.

When I opened the oven and dressed the partially cooked pie with the thick slabs of cheese I had an inkling that perhaps I was overdoing it. A few minutes later, when the crust was golden and the cheese beautifully melted, I slid the peel under the pie and jerked it out of the oven. That’s when I realized that the sauce and cheese had formed a deep liquidy soup, much of which, as a result of my quick tug, had slopped over the edge and onto the tiles.

Time to open those windows again. The pie wasn’t completely ruined, but it had been significantly downgraded. I tossed on a bunch of fresh basil while the smoke cleared and then spent a few minutes scraping the charred and gooey mess off of the tiles and the bottom of the oven.

In the meantime, while we ate, the boys were amusing themselves by playing web-based videogames on a couple of our laptops. However, they’ve been raised on Windows, and the laptops we had to offer were running Apple OS X and Linux. So, between clearing the smoke and trying to eat we were also running tech support, dealing with the barrage of “pourquoi this” and “comment that” questions.

Then it was time for the finale; the prosciutto and arugula pie. As I prepared the dough, everything was going well, and it was stretching out better than any of the previous three. Then my hand slipped and the dough collapsed onto the board in a sticky heap. Ow. By the time I untangled it, it was like a piece of swiss cheese.

In one last fit of determination, I managed to plug the holes and get something resembling a circle although it was an alarmingly uneven nine inches in diameter at best. On went the sauce, the cheese, and the prosciutto, and into the oven it went. No alarms, no sticking to the peel, no nothing.

A few minutes later it emerged, small, thick, but delicious looking. The boys, in the meantime, had figured out the laptops (one, I think, was hacking into the Pentagon, and the other was launching a rocket from China). As I tossed the arugula onto the steaming pizza, the phone rang. It was Martine’s friend calling from Australia.

I’m always happy to talk to the other side of the planet, by I am becoming more and more convinced that there is a conspiracy to phone chez nous exactly as I am delivering my pièce de resistance.

Regardless. One of Martine’s many skills is to eat pizza while talking to someone in Australia. She performed with aplomb, which is more than I can say for myself on this evening of bad pizza kharma.

* Blork’s simple pizza sauce: One 28oz can of San Marzano Italian tomatoes, drained for five minutes and then ground or blended. Three tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil. Salt and pepper to taste. No pre-cooking required. This makes enough for about three 12-inch pizzas.

8 thoughts on “Pizza Night Partial FAIL

  1. Oh, we feel your pain. We’ve definitely lived the pizza fail, complete with running around opening the windows and yanking the fire alarm off the ceiling (the only way to turn it off before it triggers the big alarm).

    I figure it’s just statistics. I mean, we probably do much more at home pizza nights than your average Joe, so there is bound to be a fail once in a while, right?

    We have pizza night coming up this Thursday. I think I’ll try your prosciutto & arugula combo this time. Mmmmmmm. I may even try your sauce if I’m feeling adventurous (we haven’t managed to do it successfully yet, but now that we have your exact instructions, should be easier).

    And I urge you to try Michel’s pizza dough recipe. I made it myself for the first time ever the other week and surprise – it worked! And I was really just vaguely following the instructions. I was completely amazed at how easy it was.

  2. There’s no such thing as a PIZZA FAIL. Unless said fire alarm is triggered. Seriously, even bad pizza is good, and it’s homemade, dude, I’m drooling over here.

  3. Sorry, Dave; no pictures. Too ashamed. ;-)

    Milliner, srsly, that simple sauce is awesome. Remember to cut up and drain the tomatoes (don’t rinse, just drain), otherwise it’s too wet. And don’t forget to not add the arugula until after the pie comes out of the oven. A nice additional touch is a sprinkle of coarsely grated (top quality) Parmesan cheese, again, after the pie comes out of the oven.

  4. Noted. Thanks! Adding the arugula afterwards probably wouldn’t have occured to me until after I burnt it to a crisp putting it on the pizza at the beginning.

  5. Hmm . . . looks like us tiny Montreal web of pizza cooks are entitled to a few failures as well as those successes . . . chin up, next time will be very successful.

  6. I always tell Blork to lower his expectations when cooking for kids… Their dad is a great cook and my nephews eat fancier stuff than most kids I know, but somehow, when they don’t eat their dad’s food, they’re just not that hungry. When asked was his favorite pizza was, my 12 year-old nephew said: “pesto with goat cheese and peppers, but only if it’s summer because I don’t like the taste of peppers in the winter.”

    That gives you an idea.

    As far as my taking my friend’s phone call: dinner time is sacred here, and experience has taught me that taking a call within 15 minutes of dinner time will get me the evil eye. But an exception is made for my Australian friend because calls between Aussie land and Montreal are extremely complicated to coordinate, time zone wise. So when she calls, I talk to her, pizza night or not.

    This being said, the pizzas tasted great, even as leftovers!

  7. @Martine: Gives us an idea of what to expect :). We should be starting solids anytime now… :)

    And I get that evil eye too, should I take a phone call right before dinner.

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