Pizza, at Last

A lot has happened. Aside from emerging on the other side of our little global pandemic, we had a child.

I thought I was ready. I had all the things that the articles targeted to Type A parents tell you to get: a highchair with footsteps, two sets of mattress protectors, a temporal thermometer. But overnight I became a shareholder in a new parental currency of sleep with a value greater than gold, food, and sex. I lost all sense of self and time.

I was ill-prepared for how hard it would be to have two full time jobs. I had a new tiny manager who held the power to keep me from eating and sleeping. Occasionally, she would hold workshops on how best to poop all over the floor. This new position also cost more than a second mortgage to maintain.

If it sounds like I am complaining it is because I am. We have the most amazing three-year-old, but some days I still wish I could drink a whole hot cup of coffee and read the paper. Instead Saturday mornings you can find me under-caffeinated and using a stuffed lavender rabbit to cajole a screaming girl to enter the water of her swim lesson. This is not an effective technique, if you are in the market for parenting advice.

To all the parents out there, I am sorry. I had no idea.

As you might imagine, I have not had much time to indulge in my previous life. Most of the time I now cook an uninspired rotation of chicken dressed up in various ways, which catapults us from week to week. The motivation to cook has become one of necessity to sustain life and get to bed before 11 PM. The new boss rejects pretty much everything unless it contains chocolate. It is a real lesson in humility.

But I am slowly clawing back. And I have somehow managed to keep our sourdough starter alive for a decade. So I have a pizza recipe for you.

As a parent this feels particularly indulgent. There is a revolution of perfectly good frozen pizzas out there.  I have become somewhat of an expert on this matter and usually have very little desire to go through the trouble of making pizza when delegating to the Screamin’ Sicilian Pizza Corporation is so easy.

But I have started to do certain things to prove to myself that I still can. I suspect this is not a great long term strategy, but for now it has helped recenter my identity beyond being a mom, finder of lost things and keeper of laundry.

Pride aside, the recipe is worthy of sharing. It is one part fluffy focaccia and one part personal pan pizza.  It is a ridiculous item to present after three years of silence, since it requires maintaining a starter and takes many days of advanced notice. But if you are a parent and a planner you are already well suited to this type of torture.

You will need to start this process at least two days before you plan to serve the pizza. At this point I will likely lose the more sane people among us. For the lunatics still reading, the process is mostly hands off and very well suited to winter hibernation at home since it requires multiple points of proofing. It is a nice project if you do not have plans that require leaving the house. Or if you need a distraction and want to stretch a project that is typically tackled in a few hours into a whole weekend.

The result is a crispy-edged pizza with a chewy bottom. It is important not to overly sauce the top, which takes real restraint since pizza with a miserly blessing of tomato is typically upsetting. It will feel like there is not enough sauce as you dollop. But too much in this case will only cause sogginess, so it is best to just let go. The crust is worth it. The result hovers between a New England bar pizza and garlic bread minus the garlic breath.

If you could distill ego into a pizza it would probably look like this one. It is overly complicated to make, requires a lot of attention, and will likely eclipse the rest of your dinner. But even the boss likes it. It is a treasure of recipe, especially if you have a starter and something to prove.

Sourdough Pan Pizza

Inspired by King Arthur Flour and Anthony Falco (formerly of Roberta’s Pizza, with controversy)

Ingredients:

for the dough

• 158 grams water, room temperature

• 40 grams ripe starter

• 5 grams olive oil

• 250 grams bread flour

• 6 grams kosher salt (David’s or Morton brand)

for the pizza

• ½ cup tomato puree (see notes)

• pinch of kosher salt

• 2 tablespoons olive oil, divided

• 6 ounces low-moisture mozzarella cheese, grated

Instructions:

Two days before pizza:

Feed the starter.  For this timeline you will be making the dough in the morning, so aim to feed it the night before (at least 8 hours). (Here are instructions for maintaining a sourdough starter.)

One day before pizza:

You will need over 9 hours for this step, so plan your timeline accordingly.   Here you will make the pizza dough.

In a large measuring cup, add the water and spoon in the starter. (When you add the starter to the water it should float to the top, if it sinks it is not adequately ripe and your dough may not rise properly.) Add the oil and stir it all to combine.

In a large bowl, mix the flour and salt. Make a well in the center, like you are making pasta dough.  Pour the liquid slowly into the middle and, with one hand, swirl the liquid into the flour until no bits of flour remain.  This will form a rough, shaggy ball.  Cover with plastic wrap and let rest for 30 minutes.

After resting the dough will still be shaggy and a little sticky.  Pick the dough up and with your fingers, pull the edges of the dough out and under, making light, quick motions with the tips of your fingers. This should take no more than 30 seconds give or take. Once the dough surface has smoothed a bit, cover it again and let it rest in the bowl for 3 hours.

After the first proof, lightly dust a plate or quarter sheet pan with flour. Pick up the dough and, like before, pull the edges of the dough out and tuck them under to form a smooth ball. Place on your floured surface and wrap well with plastic wrap. Let rest for 6 hours.  (If you kitchen is very cold – less than 70 degrees – this may take longer.) During this time, the dough ball will expand and puff a little. Then wrap well with plastic wrap and place in fridge. (The dough can stay in the fridge for a few days, if you cannot make pizza the following day.)

The day of pizza (about 3 hours before you would like to eat):

Take the dough out from the fridge. You may notice there are some tiny bubbles that formed overnight. In a cast iron pan (aim for one about 9-inches in diameter at the bottom) pour in 1½ tablespoons olive oil and spread it around with your hands. Place the dough in the oiled pan and turn it once to coat both sides in oil.

Spread the dough out to the edges of the pan, dimpling it with your fingers.  It may resist a bit, but do your best to bring the dough to the edge. (If it does not spread all the way, cover it with plastic wrap and let it rest for about 20 minutes and try again.)

Cover with plastic wrap and let it rise for 2 hours. During this time it will expand and puff up.  You may also start to see some larger bubbles forming in the dough.  Meanwhile, prep the sauce. (If using whole tomatoes, puree them – see notes.) In a small bowl, combine the puree with the pinch of salt and remaining ½ tablespoon of oil and place in the fridge.

About 30 minutes before baking, set the oven to 450 degrees and ensure there is a rack in the bottom third of the oven.

When ready to bake, sprinkle three-quarters of the cheese over the dough, being sure to go all the way to the edge of the pan.  Dollop the sauce with a spoon evenly on the top, but do not spread it.  Top with remaining cheese. Place in the bottom third of the oven. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes.   

The pizza is done when the cheese is brown and the pizza edges are golden.  Ensure the bottom is fully cooked by lifting it up carefully with a knife or spatula.  If not, put it back in for a few minutes.  If the top needs a little more time consider placing it close to the broiler and turn it on – this will not take long (take care not to burn the edges).

Run a knife or spatula between the pizza and the pan to loosen the edges to help prevent the pizza from sticking to the pan as it cools. As soon as possible, transfer the pizza to a cutting surface to cool (the knife or spatula will help with this – keep the cutting surface very close).  Let the pizza cool 5 to 10 minutes before slicing.

Makes 8 small slices

Notes:

• For best flavor, puree whole peeled tomatoes for the sauce. Bianco DiNapoli brand is my favorite. Their tomatoes are not salt-free and so keep this in mind when seasoning your sauce.  It should taste flavorful with the pinch of added salt.  Canned tomatoes vary in sodium content so if your sauce still tastes quite bland, add a little more salt.

• This is an excellent and entertaining video to watch on making sourdough pizza at home.

• Avoid fresh mozzarella - it has too high a water content for this style of pizza.
  
  
  
  

A Raspberry Ice Cream Craving

I am not the world’s most breezy pregnant person.

I am certainly not the first to carry a child, nor will I be the last. Pandemic aside, things have been pretty uneventful and I am incredibly grateful for this. But I wish more women could talk about how much of a nine-month mind fuck pregnancy is. The human race depends on us to continue with this arrangement (though it is debatable how well our little experiment is going at the moment).

For close to a year, pregnant women ride a merry-go-round of cruel and unusual symptoms and are still expected to perform their jobs managing offices or cleaning toilets or making sure their other children have carrot sticks and aren’t drinking bleach (often all of the above). Why isn’t this discussed in daily conversation?

I imagine it could go something like this:

No, I cannot sit down because my hemorrhoid has birthed its own baby and they are both bleeding.

Yes, I look tired because it takes me an hour to fall asleep and I wake up four times a night to empty my bladder.

I’m sorry, I lost focus. My baby just nestled her head directly on a nerve, which sent a lightening bolt through my vagina.

It feels like I have a sack of squirrels trying to tunnel into my small intestine and I got distracted for a moment. Please, go on talking about how much you miss the beach.

These are not meant as complaints. Just the facts. They also pale in comparison with getting to finally meet our baby girl. But second on my list is a date with a turkey sandwich. Followed by a glass of wine. I also cannot wait to put on my own socks. These are the realities of having one’s body hijacked.

During the takeover, distractions have come in handy. For a while, I was making ice cream on a biweekly basis. We had to jettison the ice cream maker bowl that is normally stored in the freezer to make room for more practical frozen food items. This left me with a craving.

I have always been skeptical of no-churn ice creams, but came across a fruit-based version from pastry chef, Stella Parks. It looked incredibly creamy and was an insane deep magenta hue, thanks to a very clever use of dried blueberries. I tried the recipe and never looked back.

It requires that you make a Swiss meringue, which is one of my favorite dessert techniques, though it can be a little stressful if you’ve never done it before. But it safely cooks the egg whites and also coaxes them into strong, delicate clouds with the mere addition of sugar and a little acid.

Stella’s other genius idea is to rely on freeze-dried fruit, which doesn’t impart additional moisture into the ice cream. This helps keep the ice crystals away and the flavor bright. The result is an incredibly rich, yet refreshing frozen dessert that screams summer. I’ve tried a number of varieties and settled on raspberry to share. Strawberry is a household favorite too, but the world probably does not need another strawberry ice cream recipe. (If you do, simply swap out the fruit and you’re golden.)

So there you have it. I guess this is basically a story about a pregnant woman and her ice cream cravings. But there are lessons here for all of us.

First, please be kind to pregnant people. They have usually traded earthly delights, like wine and cheese, for hemorrhoids and insomnia. They are also carrying humans who will go on to become world leaders and nurses and bartenders, so we are really all in this together anyway.

There is also an unreasonable amount of joy that can come from taking a leap to try something new. Particularly when that something is ice cream.

Raspberry Ice Cream

Adapted from Serious Eats, Courtesy of Stella Parks

Ingredients:

• 60 grams freeze-dried raspberries (or other fruit, see notes)

• 140 grams egg whites (about 2/3 cup or roughly 4 eggs, depending on the size)

• 165 grams sugar (about ¾ cup)

• 1½ grams kosher salt (about ¼ teaspoon), see note

• 10 grams fresh lemon juice (a scant tablespoon)

• 340 grams heavy cream (1½ cups)

• 15 grams Amaro or other complimentary spirit, like Grand Marnier (1 tablespoon)

• 1/8 teaspoon ground coriander (optional)

Instructions:

In a food processor, grind the raspberries (or other fruit) to a fine powder.  Even if you think it’s fine enough, grind it some more.  This will help the fruit smoothly incorporate and you’ll avoid grainy ice cream.  Using a sieve, sift out the seeds and discard them.  You may not be able to get all the seeds out, but aim to remove at least two-thirds and you’ll have a much creamier final product. Fruits with smaller seeds, like blueberries or strawberries, don’t need sifting. Set the powder aside.

Fill a medium saucepan with an inch or two of water. Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to a simmer (aim for medium to medium low heat).

In a stainless steel or heat-resistant bowl that can sit over your saucepan without touching the water directly, combine the egg whites, sugar, salt, and lemon juice. Once the water is simmering, place the bowl over the saucepan and continuously whisk the egg white mixture until it reaches 165 degrees (this should take about 5 minutes).  The whites will froth up a little during this time and eventually thicken slightly and then deflate and get almost syrupy when they are done. (Keep a thermometer nearby.) You may also want an oven mitt handy to steady the bowl while you whisk.

(It is important you constantly mix during this time and don’t let the eggs sit, as they may heat too rapidly and scramble. If your mixture threatens to scramble, remove the bowl, whisk furiously, and turn down the heat before proceeding.)

Pour the egg mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer and whisk at high speed until stiff glossy peaks form.  Transfer the meringue to another bowl.  Using the same stand mixer bowl (no need to clean it), combine the heavy cream, fruit powder, alcohol, and spice (if using). Whip until stiff and thick, it will look like frosting when it’s done.

Gently fold in the meringue and spoon it into a freezer-safe container with a lid (a ceramic baking dish or loaf pan works in a pinch too).  Cover with a layer of plastic wrap, pressing it directly onto the ice cream.  If using the baking dish or loaf pan, cover it with foil if you do not have a lid.

 Let freeze for at least 6 to 8 hours before eating. (It will last at least 3 weeks in the freezer.)

 Makes a robust quart of ice cream

 Notes:

1. If you don’t have a kitchen scale, check the package of freeze-dried fruit for a weight.  Using this brand, 60 grams is almost two packages.

2. Other wonderful flavor combinations include: strawberries with amaretto, blueberries with gin and coriander (cinnamon is nice too), and bananas with pineapple rum.

3. If you are not using large grain kosher salt, like David’s brand, cut the volume of the salt in half to just a pinch.

Adult SpaghettiOs in the Age of Corona

“Don’t touch your face,” I say. I have become someone who nags. We haven’t gotten “the thing” yet, but it has sent my anxiety into overdrive. Being pregnant doesn’t help. Except when I use it as an excuse to lie down. We were prepared for a child to change everything, but not for something tinier – a microscopic hijacker – to steal the show.

These days we count stuff. Days spent quarantined at home. Fetal kicks. The number of people in the ICU at the hospital where I work. Remaining rolls of toilet paper. I regularly check the availability of a temporal thermometer I had on our baby registry. The one that used to cost 30 dollars costs 69 now.

We have a new vocabulary too. We talk of viral loads and air currents. We debate whether it is truly safe to go outside. Brett and I bought our condo in an area we hoped would become a hot real estate market. It is now a hot spot for “the thing.” Just living here is a risk factor, according to the latest medical guidelines. So I stay inside and, when it’s not raining, open a few windows and let in the cold spring air.

Our packages have a quarantine period that corresponds with my current anxiety level. On good days we wait 24 hours before opening them. When I have bad stretches, a parcel can sit in postal purgatory for a week. We don’t order anything readily perishable.

I have, however, become obsessed with ordering the type of food one might want on hand if foolishly trying to outrun the apocalypse. We are flush with dried fruits – cherries, apricots, and figs. Someone once told me figs gets invaded by wasps looking for a safe space to reproduce, so I no longer enjoy them. But I felt compelled to buy some anyway since so few options were available. Eating insects is the least of my worries these days.

Flour has been impossible to find for weeks, but I located a 10-pound bag online. It’s artisanal and cost as much as a four-pound rib roast. Our 800-square-foot condo will make room. The kitchen cabinet is crammed with canned sardines flavored with lemon, stewed in tomato sauce, packed with peppers, and smoked. I hope to make a lunch of these tiny fish at least once a week (this basic formula is a winner). The omega-3 fats are good for the baby. They are good for the part of me that thinks I have control over this.

Beans aren’t as easy as sardines to find, but my apocalypse-style shopping helps a bit with the sourcing. Back when we were both leaving the house for work, pasta con ceci was a favorite weeknight dinner. A dish of pantry staples that now feels like a luxury. Brett recently referred to it as adult SpaghettiOs and its new name has stuck. The grated cheese is entirely optional, as the real umami magic happens when the garlic, tomato, and olive oil meld into a clingy, addictive sauce. It’s a fast meal to make and one that feels wholly therapeutic. There is something comforting about a dish that won’t let you stray too far while cooking it. Staring into the bottom of a pan while you stir is calming in times like these.

And I’m grateful for it – for all of it. I am thankful we can afford the food we need and that we are healthy and, also, haven’t killed each other yet.

Brett and I are doing well, all things considered. Though we are pretty much down to fist bumps to show affection. Fear of passing “the thing” has limited physical contact between us. We show love in other ways though. He spares me the last of our yogurt and rubs my calves. I make chocolate chip cookies and save him the final scoop of our adult SpaghettiOs. He tries not to touch his face.

Pasta Con Ceci (“Adult SpaghettiOs”)

Adapted from Victoria Granof Courtesy of Food52

Ingredients:

• ½ cup olive oil

• 3 garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced

• ¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons tomato paste

• ½ pound (or about 2 cups) of uncooked pasta (aim for a small shape, like ditalini)

• 1 to 2 teaspoons kosher salt (or to taste - this will also depend on the brand and flake size)

• 1-15 ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (or about 2 cups cooked chickpeas)

• Pecorino or Parmesan cheese, grated (to taste) – optional garnish

Instructions:

In a small pot, add 3½ cups water and bring it to a boil.

In a large pot on medium to medium high heat, add the oil and then the garlic, stirring regularly until the slices become toasted and fragrant. This should only take about a minute or two. (Keep an eye on the pot, as the garlic quickly goes from cooked to burnt). Stir in the tomato paste and cook for about 30 seconds more.

Add the pasta, boiling water, and salt (if you are sensitive to salt or using a brand with a finer grain, start with the lesser amount). Stir to help prevent the pasta from sticking to the bottom of the pan. Turn the heat down to medium low, so the mixture is at a low simmer. Continue to stir occasionally for about 15 minutes or until the pasta is just shy of al dente.

Add the chickpeas and continue to stir occasionally until the pasta is fully cooked and most of the liquid is absorbed. (If the mixture starts to get a little dry, just add a splash or two of water to loosen it.) Taste and adjust the seasoning, if needed.

Top with grated cheese, if you are feeling fancy.

Serves 3 or 4