Pesto, mozzarella, and cherry tomato pizzas

The time had come to cut back the basil. In the last few weeks, it shot up from the dirt like a shiny green rocket. To avoid blooming (which spoils the flavor of basil), I cut it back hard and ended up with a whole lot of basil on my hands. I made pesto. 

I also had some nice, sweet little cherry tomatoes from the farmers market, and I needed to make something I could pack for a picnic. I thought about trying to make a tomato tart, but I didn't have a lot of time (and honestly, I have yet to make a pie, so I didn't want to mess up dinner the first time trying it). So I made pizzas. Pesto, mozzarella, and cherry tomato pizzas. And yep, they were as good as they sound. Just sweet tomatoes, cheesy goodness, and a nice crisp crust with a smear of pesto.

Ingredients
FOR THE PIZZA DOUGH*

• 1 1/2 cups lukewarm water
• 2 tsps (or 1 envelope) dry yeast 
• 1/2 cup semolina flour
• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 2 1/2 to 3 cups all purpose flour
• 1 1/2 tsps salt
• 2 Tbsps olive oil

FOR THE TOPPINGS

• 1 cup pesto (approximately)
• 1 pint cherry tomatoes, sliced
• 1 lb ball of mozzarella, sliced thinly
• grated Parmigiano Reggiano

Directions

1. Mix 1/2 cup of the water with the yeast. Let it stand about 10 minutes. (The yeast should be somewhat foamy. 
2. Add the rest of the water, the olive oil, the salt, and the flour and mix until the flour is completely incorporated and the dough is slightly sticky. You may need to do this with your hands.
3. Oil a bowl, place the dough in the bowl. Roll it over a few times so that it's thinly coated with oil. Cover with plastic wrap and let it rise for 45-60 minutes. 
4. Divide the dough into four equal parts and roll them into balls. Let them rise under plastic for another 30 minutes. 
5. Preheat the oven to 500 degrees (Fahrenheit).
6. Flatten the dough balls into thin disks (or if you are using baking sheets, rectangles). Try to make the dough as thin as possible without tearing it. Let the disks or rectangles rest another 15 minutes. 
7. When it's time to bake the pizzas, spread pesto all over them (as close to the edge as possible).
8. Distribute the mozzarella slices among the pizzas.
9. Spread the tomatoes on top of the pizzas. Grate Parmigiano Reggiano over the top of the pizzas. 
10. Bake them in the oven for 15 minutes. Serve and eat. They can also be eaten when they are lukewarm.    

* Adapted from Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone.   

Pizza with caramelized onions, goat cheese, and bacon

It's a shame that this picture is so gloomy, but the last time I made this pizza, it was dark when it came out of the oven and I had to hold back a pack of ravenous, excited beasts (you know who you are, Mike, Sebastian, and David) to get even these moody photos. But let me assure you: This pizza is delicious, by far the best-loved pizza in my household. I think the original idea for this pizza came down from Wolfgang Puck; I am sure it has been bastardized since his original, but the main concept is the same: sweet and slightly bitter caramelized onions balanced against the acidity of the goat cheese and the salt of the bacon. It is a beautiful thing.  

Making the Dough
A good pizza consists of two major parts: the dough and the toppings. Let's start with the dough. Now, I make pizza dough from scratch, but when I first started making this pizza, I would use purchased pizza crusts. Problem with those is that, like many commercial breads, they tend to have a lot of nearly unpronounceable mystery ingredients, so now I make my own dough. It definitely takes more time and a bit more effort, but I think it's worth it. I've found two pizza dough recipes that I like: The one used in this delicious broccoli rabe, potato, and rosemary pizza from Food52, which comes out crispy and beautiful, and Deborah Madison's basic pizza dough from her book Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, which is also excellent and takes less time but is a bit less crispy. Here are the directions for Deborah Madison's pizza dough:

• 1 1/2 cups warm water
• 2 teaspoons (about one packet) dry yeast
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
• 1/2 to 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 3 to 3 1/2 cups all purpose flour

Note: I sometimes replace 1/4 cup of the all purpose flour with a 1/4 cup semolina flour, which I think make the crust a little crispier, but that's completely optional.

1. Add the yeast to 1/2 cup of the water and let it stand until it gets foamy (about five to 10 minutes). 
2. Add the rest of the water, the salt, and the oil to the foamy water.
3. Then add the whole wheat flour and enough all purpose flour to make a shaggy dough. 
4. Pour or scrape the dough out onto a floured board or counter and knead until the dough is smooth. Add enough flour to keep the dough from sticking but no more. The dough should be slightly tacky. 
5. Let the dough rise in a covered, oiled bowl for about 40-60 minutes. (Keep the dough in a somewhat warm place.) 
6. Turn the dough out on the counter and divide it into the number of pizzas you want (you can make four 10-inch pizzas or two 12- to 14-inch pizzas). Shape the pieces into balls, set them on a lightly floured counter, cover with a slightly damp towel, and let them rise for 20 to 30 minutes. 
7. About half an hour before you want to put the pizzas in the oven, pre-heat your oven to 500 degrees Fahrenheit and start shaping the dough. Take one ball at a time, flatten it into a disk, and start pushing the dough out toward the edges until you achieve the size you want. It's helpful to have a baking board with diameters. When you have achieved the size, shape, and thickness you want, let the disks rest for 15 minutes before adding any toppings. (The thinner you can get the dough without tearing, the crispier your final product will be.)

Preparing the Toppings
When you make this pizza, start the toppings at about the same time you start the dough. That way, all you will have to do is add the toppings to the pizza disks just before you put them in the oven.

The toppings for this pizza are caramelized onions, crispy bacon, and goat cheese. You will also need some grated Parmigiano Reggiano.

• 3-4 large yellow onions, thinly sliced (get ready to cry)
• 4 Tbsps olive oil
• 8 slices bacon, sliced into 1-inch pieces (or you can just crumble the slices after they have cooked and cooled)
• 1 8-oz log of soft goat cheese (Chevre), crumbled (do this with a fork in a bowl and you will eliminate a lot of mess)
• grated Parmigiano Reggiano
• dried thyme
• a pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)

The most difficult thing to do here is to caramelize the onions properly. I've seen lots of recipes add salt or sugar to the onions, but you need nothing but time, patience, and olive oil. The onions will produce their own sugar, and they will be delicious.

To caramelize the onions, bring 4 tablespoons of olive oil to medium heat in a large pan with tall sides (you will start off with a large volume of onions that will cook down to a very small amount) and then add the onions. Stir the onions to coat them completely with the oil and then basically leave them alone for up to an hour, stirring perhaps once every five to 10 minutes. Don't worry if they get a little crispy around the edges, but don't let them burn either. They should look like this when you are done:

When they are done, sprinkle in half to a whole teaspoon of dried thyme and a pinch of red pepper flakes if you are using them. Set the onions aside.

For the bacon, just cook it until it's nice and crispy and let it drain on paper towels. Set aside.

Not much to do with the goat cheese except to break it up with a fork. Set it aside.

Now, when it comes time to make the pizza, here's what to do. First, make sure your oven is on (500 degrees, remember?). If you have a pizza stone and a peel, now is a great time to use them. If you don't, line baking sheets with parchment paper and set your pizzas down on them.

1. Sprinkle grated Parmigiano Reggiano all over the pizza dough. 
2. Add half (or a quarter, depends on how many pizzas you are making) of the caramelized onions and spread them evenly around the pizza. 
3. Sprinkle half (or a quarter) of the goat cheese over the onions. 
4. Sprinkle half (or a quarter) of the crumbled bacon over the goat cheese. 
5. Grate some more Parmigiano Reggiano over the top and slide the pizza into the oven. Tip: If you are using a peel, rub some corn meal or flour into the peel to prevent sticking.  
6. After seven minutes, check the pizza. If it's a little golden brown on top, the pizza is done. If not, leave it in for a few more minutes. 

Voila! You've got an amazing pizza. And, you've also got a basic dough recipe so you can experiment with your own pizza toppings. Have fun with that.  

Holy basil, Batman! What can you do with this herb?

This Friday, September 23, marks the autumn equinox and thus the end of summer, which means a whole new season of foods and feelings. Fall is my favorite time of year, with its cooler temperatures, gorgeous colors, and bounty of squashes, apples, sweet potatoes--nice roasty-toasty foods that like a long simmer in flavorful stock or slow roasting in the oven.

But I am not going to talk about that--not yet anyway. No, this is a last hurrah for a summer herb: basil. I am sure people use basil all times of year, but for me, it evokes summer. Its spicy intensity plays especially well with fresh, juicy fruits with a lot of acid: tomatoes, peaches, plums. It's also lovely with watermelon. (Here's a great salad: halved cherry tomatoes, cubed watermelon, torn basil with a dash of salt and a splash of vinegar.) For a truly exquisite drink, make lemonade and add some smashed strawberries and slivered basil. You will be amazed that something as simple and delicious as lemonade could reach such heights.

The most common form of basil in cooking (at least here in the West) is a variety called Genovese basil (that's the one with the big, shiny leaves you often find in pots in grocery stores). In Latin, this type of basil is called Ocimum basilicum--a name that suggests the herb's history. Supposedly basil was found growing near the tomb of Christ, so the herb was frequently used in Orthodox churches (or basilicas) (1). Other sources indicate that basil was once regarded with fear and associated with the basilisk--a nasty reptilian monster that could kill with a glance or a breath (2). The herb is native to Africa, Asia, and India and features frequently in foods from those parts of the world.

Basil is part of the mint family (or Lamiacaes), which are easy to tell because they typically have square stems. Different varieties of basil have various culinary and medicinal uses. Opal basil has dark purple leaves, lavender flowers, and a strong scent of cloves; it's a beautiful plant in the garden. Thai basil, a variety with purple stems and flowers, is sweeter than Genovese and is often used in (surprise!) Thai cooking. I don't use opal or Thai basil too much because they are just a bit too strong for my taste, but I suspect that you could do some very interesting things with them in baking or making ice cream, especially in anything you would create with cinnamon, cloves, anise, or other spices of that nature. Medicinally, basil has been used to soothe upset stomachs (in a tea) and to calm anxiety and aid sleeping. I won't vouch for its effectiveness, but it isn't harmful. (3)

I have grown about 10 varieties of basil, including opal, Thai, lemon, lime, holy, and so forth, but these days I mostly stick to Genovese. Here is the basil I harvested last week:

Yes, I got a pretty good harvest of the stuff and kept it in fairly good condition, despite the brutally hot summer topped with a week of some of the heaviest rains we've seen around here (some of my favorite roads are still impassible because flooding washed parts of them away). I grew it from seed, which is pretty easy to do. The main things to remember when caring for basil plants are that they grow best in warm soil, they don't like to dry out completely (but they don't like to have wet feet either, so good drainage is important), and they like lots of sun. Also, to make sure that you get the best flavor, always pinch off the tops, especially if you see any signs of flowers. Flowering signals the death of an annual plant like basil; its flavor changes in rather unpleasant ways.

Basil is best fresh, but if you want to preserve some for winter days when you long for a memory of summer, your best bet is to freeze it. Dried basil is inferior in flavor, because those lovely volatile oils escape with the moisture as it dries. For best results, blend basil leaves (washed and dried) with a good olive oil and freeze the mixture in ice trays so that you can use a cube as you need it.

You can also make a flavored vinegar by pouring warm vinegar over basil leaves and letting it steep for a day or two. Make sure to strain the basil out though, because otherwise it gets slimy (ick) and becomes a potential breeding ground for bacteria (ickier).

Or, you can try growing basil in a pot in a sunny window. It won't grow as fast as it will outside in summer, but you may have enough to add a few leaves to your food now and then. Same rules apply inside as outside: sun, good drainage, moist soil, warmth, pinch off the flowers.    

And of course, there's always pesto, which freezes well and is easy-peasy to make in a food processor or blender. You'll need

• 2 cups washed and dried basil leaves
• 2 cloves garlic
• 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese (4)
• 1/4 cup pine nuts (feel free to substitute walnuts or hazelnuts)
• 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• salt
• fresh ground pepper

Put the garlic, cheese, and nuts in your food processor and blend until you get an even, crumbly mass. Then add the basil leaves and blend to a paste. 

Add olive oil to the paste in a steady stream.

Scrape down the sides and blend again.

Add some salt (about a quarter teaspoon) and some fresh pepper. Blend again. Hey presto, you've got pesto! (Did I really just say that?)

So what can you do with it? Well, there's the obvious one: Add it to fresh cooked pasta for a simple meal. You can also use it on bread as a sandwich spread (let's see, what do you think of a sandwich spread with some pesto and slices of chicken and tomatoes?), or mix it into some mayo. Use it to flavor soups and stews. Ooh, I know, drop a spoonful onto a bowl of fresh, homemade cream of tomato soup. Coat some chicken with it and bake it. Add a dollop to a mess of biscuits, that might be good. Use it instead of tomato sauce on a pizza. In other words, do whatever sounds good.   

(1) Bremness, Lesley. 1988. The Complete Book of Herbs: A Practical Guide to Growing and Using Herbs. New York: Penguin Studio. 

(2) Kowalchik, Claire, and William H. Hylton, eds. 1987. Rodale's Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs. Emmaus, PA: Rodale Press. 

(3) Ah, herbal medicine. It's a complicated topic. On the one side, you have airy-fairy "practices" like homeopathy using magical, mystical mumbo jumbo principles of "like curing like" (hm, where have I heard of that before, oh yeah, alchemy; I don't think we have a method for creating gold from lead yet or did I miss a front page?). On the other end, you have breast and lung cancer treatments that derive from varieties of yew trees (Taxus brevifolia and Taxus canadensis). Then there is a range between these extremes. One of the problems with using herbs is some of them really work, which means that they can be very toxic if you don't know how to use them properly. Most culinary herbs are not toxic (bay leaves being one exception), so the dangers of using herbs medicinally doesn't usually apply here, but I generally recommend against playing around with herbs as cures.   

(4) Parmigiano Reggiano is obviously not a local ingredient, but is one of those rare exceptions where you really can't substitute something else. The industrial powder that comes in a green can labeled parmesan is not the same species of creature, not the same family of creature--heck, not even the same kingdom! 

So what is this thing called authenticity?

The idea of authenticity has been worming its way around my mind ever since I read Todd Kliman's article, "The Problem of Authenticity," in issue 1 of The Lucky Peach. I suppose the article resonated because authenticity has been a byword in my family for many years. The article made me realize I don't actually have a verbal definition of the term; basically, it's one of those gut-feeling, I-know-it-when-I-see-it kinds of things.

And I can't tell if I am comfortable with that or not. On the one hand, if you don't have a specific definition of a thing, you can make all kinds of exceptions that undermine the integrity of the thing, stretching its "truthiness" (to steal a term from Stephen Colbert) to the breaking point. On the other hand, you can make all kinds of exceptions that allow the thing to grow, to take into itself new perspectives. So, I don't know where to come down on defining authenticity.

Kliman addresses three questions regarding authenticity in food:

• "For one thing, how the hell do you define it?
• "For another, where the hell do you find it?
• "And another, having found it, how do you know that it's, in fact, it?"

And he presents some examples that show what a tricky problem this actually is, such as the now less authentic bagels made in New York City (where once they were made entirely by hand, now they are stamped out by machine), or the wide range of how to define a gumbo in New Orleans, or the "right" ways to make Szechuan food or Neapolitan pizzas. Some places have strict regulations that define specific dishes to ensure that tradition is not lost. (To be honest, I also see some defensiveness against encroaching pop culture in such regulation too, but that's another story.)

Authenticity in food is an interesting topic because it mirrors and illustrates changes in culture. I was an anthropology major in college, and one topic that came up a lot was this idea of culture loss--that people the world over are losing their traditions to adapt to a new world order of internationalism. That sodas and televisions and t-shirts are now found in the remotest areas of the world and are destroying traditional ways of life. That languages are being lost as the last speakers die off. And, yes, it is sad, it is awful because there is so much to learn from what is being lost. And yet, and yet, isn't that the way of the world? We think of these cultures and these particular dishes as coming down to us fully formed, sacrosanct, but they too evolved. Cultures adapt to changes in local conditions and have always done so.

In the same way, people have taken their food traditions to new places and adapted them to what's available. Is it inauthentic to change something you grew up with to suit your tastes and the ingredients you can get your hands on? Is it inauthentic to drop the stuff you never really liked anyway? Is it authentic to cling unyielding to old ways and traditional ingredients? There are foods I'd never make if I had to make them the way they are supposed to be made. I simply don't have the patience to make pesto using a mortar and pestle. I don't have the arm strength and coordination to make mayo without a food processor. I make Swedish meatballs with whatever ground meat I happen to have on hand, not the specific blend of beef and pork that's typical (except chicken, I don't think I'd ever use ground chicken for Swedish meatballs). Traditional dishes have to be open to adaptation, to the creativity and the imagination of the cook, to the ingredients that are available. The way a person makes food reflects his or her family history, personal history, the season, the location. It's a complex palimpsest of layer upon layer of thoughts, feelings, images, tastes, scents, and memories partially smudged and aged until no single influence is perfectly in focus. And really, isn't it more interesting that way?

So where do I finally come to rest on the topic of authenticity? I guess it comes down to the words of a pompous old fool of a character: "This above all: to thine own self be true." But I also suspect that my thoughts and feelings about the topic will evolve.  

(And if you didn't read my review of The Lucky Peach, here it is.)

UPDATE 6/7/12: Here's another take on authenticity in food. Francis Lam and Eddie Huang discuss the fairness of other chefs taking on other cultures' food. It's kind of a long discussion, but it raises a lot of issues.