I know that many people make their own pizzas, and I know that for the most part the event isn't reason to go in a froth. However, in our world, a couple of things have a happened that might be froth inducing.
We spent a little time in Italy last year and just for the event of it all, went into a small pizza shop for our evening experience. The hot spot didn't even open until after 6:00, In an American sense, it didn't really amount to much but it did have a very nice authentic flavor. It was crowded, most of the patrons were locals, if not all of them, and the action was fast and furious. In the back of the rather tiny establishment was the kitchen which included a wood fired brick oven. Everything was crowed and the makers of pizza were ferociously active. It was a happen place full of warmth and vitality, and much Italian gesturing.
The garconas ( just learned the French don't like that word-- like being called Boy) were yelling out the orders and the cooks were tossing stuff willy-nilly. The smells of the oven drifted through the animated clientele. Everything was close. Even the wine was intimate, and there was wine like we have water, and it was good, and the prices were also within reason---unlike France.
The pizzas were not the giant, and super giant, or supper, supper gargantuan monstrosities of the USA, they were not the deluxe bloat bodacious, cheese infested monsters we are used to. They were almost delicate, simple expression of cuisine. Only a few ingredients, but superb. Perfect crust, not heavy, not to thin, just like Jesus wanted it. We were impressed. We didn't see Jesus but after a liter of nice rose, maybe. We were close to St Catherine who said, " All the way to heaven is heaven..."
So back here in the states, Jerry builds this missionary Pizza oven. Proud as any father, he caressed his oven as if he had just found God, the warmth, the smells of life, the pleasure of all things food seemed to emanate from his part-Italian mind. So he puts together what he thinks is the perfect crust, slaps on only a few items, fresh Basel, appropriate fresh cheese, maybe a meat choice of his own making and in 3 minutes in the 600 degree oven, bingo.
He is all full of himself and after one bite we thought this grinning American was a saint. My God, what a pizza. Simple but exquisite. All his boasting of carefully selected Italian flower, the right multi-virginal olive oil and fresh everything, paid the big dividend.
So in admiration of these adventures, we too tried to do the right thing. Turned the in-house oven to 500, threw in a stone, tried to make the perfect crust, delicately applied cheese (not as fresh), less virginal olive oil, and whatever was laying around for meat and vegetable (venison and chard) and fired the concoction up. Well, it wasn't perfect, particularly the part of trying to get the pizza in the oven without a paddle, but by God it was revolutionary--Che Quevara would have loved it. We are moving in a new direction here.
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