Pizza

Here’s a lovely, light pizza that’s perfect for a springtime meal.

When I was growing up, fried egg sandwiches were one of my mother’s specialties, and we often had them for lunch on weekends. The sandwiches were made in her New Mexico cooking style: The eggs were turned once and fried until the whites were crisp around the edges and the yolks were well set. Then they were transferred to slices of white bread that had been slathered with mayonnaise, and a lettuce leaf was slipped between the egg and the bread. Here’s my contemporary version of that homey sandwich. Its siren call of melted, oozing cheese and added bonus of sausage bits turn my mom’s simpler lunchtime sandwich into a mini-meal on bread. In keeping with the pizza theme, I call for sweet Italian or Tuscan sausage. But American Breakfast Sausage (page 10) or Spicy Garlic Sausage (page 48) would also do nicely.

Belgian endive, toasted walnuts, and Gorgonzola make a satisfying winter salad—and a successful pizza topping. Brian first covers the pizza dough with a layer of caramelized onions, then sprinkles on the braised endive, crunchy nuts, and clumps of creamy Gorgonzola dolce, a young, mild version of the familiar Italian blue cheese. Cut the hot pie into thin wedges for an appetizer, or serve larger wedges with a salad for dinner.

Brian spreads a roasted-garlic paste on the dough under the mushrooms and potatoes, which gives this pizza an irresistible fragrance. If you have access to wild mushrooms, by all means use them. Bellwether Farms Crescenza cheese is a soft, supple, young cow’s milk cheese that melts well; mozzarella is stretchier, but a good substitute.

In late spring, when California asparagus are still available and the Cakebread garden is yielding the year’s first onions, Brian makes this delicate pizza bianca (a “white pizza,” or pizza without tomato sauce). The fresh-dug onions haven’t been cured yet, so they don’t have papery skins, and their flavor is mild. Many supermarkets sell “spring onions” that look like thick scallions with a bulbous root end. They would work in this recipe, as would leeks or even cured yellow onions, but uncured onions have the most delicate taste. Choose a fresh ricotta without pectin or other stabilizers. The Bellwether Farms ricotta from neighboring Sonoma County is our favorite.

In this country pizza is synonymous with tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese. In some parts of Italy, and especially in Rome, where I grew up, sauce and cheese are generally an either-or proposition, as in this veggie-centric version topped with both mozzarella and sharp pecorino but no sauce. I consider this the perfect item for an evening of playing poker (yes, I do like to play poker); it’s easy to eat with your hands, and it will satisfy vegetarians and meat-lovers alike because the olives make it meaty and substantial.

In southern Italy, where the flatbread called pizza originated, it was traditionally kept very, very simple, topped with as little as salt, olive oil, and rosemary or a few tomato slices and a bit of fresh mozzarella. Now, of course, you see American-style pizzas on the streets of Rome. The recipes here, then, are a bit of a throwback—very simple and very real. Even simpler if you use a food processor; you can knead the dough by hand, of course, if that’s your preference, but the machine is far easier and more efficient and, in fact, does a better job, at least for most of us. Be sure to see the recipes for Pissaladière (page 45) and Tarte Flambé (page 44), both of which are based on this dough.

In many southern Italian homes, this is daily bread, the closest thing to the prototypical pizza. I vividly remember the first time I tasted it (in Rome)—it blew my mind. Please try it. Not only is it delicious, but it’s the launching pad for making any other pizza you like (see the variations for a couple of ideas). For this to be most successful, your oven should be equipped with a pizza stone, and you should make the dough directly on a peel. However, it’s almost as good on a baking sheet, and I give directions for both.

What’s different about this pizza is the inclusion of semolina flour in the crust and bread crumbs on the top, which makes the pie slightly crunchy. Nevertheless, the large quantity of onions (consider using a food processor to slice them) produces a distinctively sweet pizza. This is a large recipe; you can halve it or make it for a party.

The most exciting pissaladière I ever had was served it the open-air market in the heart of old Nice. It was baked in a wood-burning oven a few blocks away, sent to the market by bicycle, and eaten standing up or at picnic tables shaded by huge awnings. The wedges were gently sweet and intensely salty; the crust, just a half inch thick, was perfumed with the local olive oil and was perfectly browned and crisp. It was so simple—mostly just sweet onions on a wonderful crust. You can make a wonderful pissaladière at home: just be sure to cook the onions very, very slowly.

I found the St. Louis pizza to be different from any other pizza I have had before. The crust has a texture between a cracker and shortbread, and the cheese mixture recalls the milky-velvety mozzarella cheese found in Italy. The pizza is cut into squares, which makes it easy to eat. Here is a recipe I developed after several visits to Imo’s in St. Louis, and I think it is quite close to the St. Louis original

One could call this dish pizza bread, and it is a cross between a focaccia and a pizza. In Sicily, they make a high pizza called sfincione, topped with tomatoes, oregano, and a few anchovies. It is sold in warm squares as street food from a cart. The idea for deep-dish pizza came from the early Sicilian immigrants who settled in Chicago, although the excessive toppings are not something one would find in Sicily.

GINA Forget calling up the delivery guy: making pizza is easier than you’d think, and this recipe is perfect for movie watching. I love this pizza because it has my favorite ingredients, chicken and spinach, right on top. You can slice large tomatoes if you like, but I prefer sweet and juicy red and yellow grape tomatoes. Not many people think of the yellow tomatoes, but they add extra color and taste great. PAT Most guys prefer any kind of pig on a pizza, including me, but Gina introduced me to this recipe, and that flavor blast of garlic and red pepper won me over. Make one of these and cuddle up on the couch together.

What is focaccia really? Is it pizza? Is it bread? Well, it’s a little bit of both. This version of focaccia is definitely a crowd-pleaser. Just stand back and watch people’s eyes light up as they get the zip from the crushed red pepper. That, along with the subtle taste of the roasted garlic, makes this a perfect food to share—just make sure whoever you talk to eats some of it, too.

This devilishly good appetizer is an American translation of the Alsatian tarte flambée. The pizza’s thin crust is topped with an unbeatable combination of nutty Gruyère, smoky bits of thick bacon, sweet caramelized onions, toasted slices of garlic, and tangy crème fraîche.

This is a pie that you can put together in a flash, because it depends on the idea that you’ve got some great condiments and accompaniments already made and just waiting for such a use as this. Like all my favorite pizzas, it depends on relatively spare but high-quality toppings.

I’m such a purist about some things—I think all food people are. Tell me you’re putting beans and tomatoes in chili, and the Texas boy in me bristles. But when one of my friends, an Israeli man of Norwegian heritage, came to a pizza-tasting party and—before he sampled it, I should note—declared this pizza combination “wrong, just wrong,” why did it irritate me so much? Well, I suppose it’s because I’m neither Norwegian nor Italian, so I couldn’t understand why something so delicious could be anything but right. This combination was inspired by a pizza that friends told me I had to try from Coppi’s Organic in Washington, D.C. I’ve taken shameless liberties with it.

When I asked friends for their favorite pizza-combination ideas, this one, from former Boston Globe Living Arts editor Fiona Lewis, jumped to the front of the line. First, I’m a freak for figs: fresh when they’re in season, of course, but dried at other times of the year. Second, when Fiona mentioned it, I had just started yielding to an addiction to Taleggio, the pungent, slightly bitter Italian cheese that tastes of mushrooms. I immediately thought walnuts would be a perfect crunchy addition to this party, and I invited along my old friend radicchio to add even more bitterness. Once I got the layering order right (walnuts need to go on the bottom, under the nest of radicchio, to avoid burning under the broiler), this was a keeper. Obviously, if you want to make this when fresh figs are in season, by all means do so; skip the soaking-in-wine step and you’ll be good to go.

I came up with this pizza idea when sampling the beautifully made charcuterie of Nathan Anda, who sells at farmers’ markets in the Washington, D.C., area. When he pulled out a package of fatty German-style speck and suggested that it would melt on top of pizza, I had to try it with a bagful of mushrooms I bought from a nearby vendor. He was right: The fat from the speck basted the mushrooms in richness. If you can’t find German-style speck, substitute Italian lardo raw, thinly sliced bacon.

I make fried rice with kimchi, ham, and egg so often that you’d think this pizza combination would’ve occurred to me in a flash. It almost did, but not quite: I knew I wanted to make a kimchi and ham pizza, but it wasn’t until I hosted a pizza party and friends tasted it that I asked, “What does it need?” One guest said, “An egg?” Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? I tried it again, and that runny-yolk richness pulled everything together. It always does. Now I wouldn’t have it any other way.