On Jack’s first day of school, I stayed there with him for a couple of hours, to ease him into the experience of a new school in a new language.  We left just before lunch, and took a looping, indirect way home, stopping at market stalls and shops along the way.  One of my destinations was a half-block of street closed to cars, where vendors were selling fruits, vegetables, meat and cheese, and household odds and ends.

We bought bags of the pink-and-white-swirled fagioli borlotti, and of blackberries that taste as sweet and meaty as pears.  Not a trace of tartness, which is a surprising sensation!  To be honest, I only bought the pricey 3-Euro basket because Jack fondled them.  The unspoken rule of etiquette at the markets is: you touch it, you buy it.

Next time, I think I’ll get some of these elegant peppers:

The most delicious item we bought, though, was the melon.  Sweet as honey and juicy as, well, juice:

Next, we went to the bread shop, which is the most nondescript shop I think I’ve ever seen.  What you have to do is follow the scent of baking bread with your nose, and look for a bunch of people standing around chatting happily, and moving in a constant stream in and out of a narrow door.  That’s the line for bread.

Once inside, I was crammed shoulder to shoulder with people buying multiple bags of bread, biscotti, pizza, and cornetti (croissants).  Jack stood in a corner, with his backpack and sunglasses on, eating an apple.  He looked as nonchalent as a true Italian.  The only proper name of a bread I knew was pizza bianca (what we call focaccia), so I asked for that and used gestures and alternate “grazie”s and “per favore”s to indicate how much I wanted.  Then I asked for quattro biscotti, and pointed at these cute little lemony-almondy cookies:

Oh, boy, were they good.

This is a great, simple, and super tasty recipe you can make with your dough when you don’t feel like all the cheese and sauce, etc. For the original article from Smitten Kitchen, click here.

Enjoy!

Much to most New Yorkers’ aggravation, television screens were added the backseat of most taxicabs last year, effectively poisoning the one place left in the city not already inundated with a constant media blitz. Whenever I get in one, and yes, the television is always on, I immediately hit mute, but then find that I’m watching the images broadcast on the back of the front seat and not this gorgeous city whizzing by and then usually force myself to turn it off completely and restore my view to the window, frustrated that the choice has to be so complicated. I don’t like them one bit.

But. There was this one time, I think I was zipping out to Jocelyn’s this past winter and I still remember exactly what street the cab was on–Houston–when I had to drop everything and turn the volume up because what I saw before me was too awesome to resist: Jim Lahey making Pizza Bianca for a Time Out New York segment. And hoo boy, did I ever fall hard for it.

A little background: Jim Lahey’s name may be familiar because he’s the guy who teamed up with Mark Bittman of the New York Times in November 2005 to show him the No Knead Bread-Making Technique Heard Around the Internet. In New York, he’s famous for his work at Sullivan Street Bakery and in my tiny corner of this city, he’s famous for teasing us for months about opening a pizza place so close to our apartment, I feel certain he’ll be cooking me dinner several nights a week, which is still plywooded despite a promised mid-December opening date not that I’m counting the days, minutes, seconds or anything.

Back to that day in the cab, the video–followed by another of Patsy Grimaldi, making the pizza that made both his first and last name famous–it was hard for me not to press my nose against the screen and I spent the next two months hoping against hope that I would find myself in a cab playing this video again. When this finally happened–an otherwise horrible morning when I was running so late for work, I had no other choice but to throw money at the problem–I was consumed with such joy, it was hard not to jump up and down in the backseat. The funniest part was that it was only then that I realized how remarkably simple it was, but it didn’t stop me from trying to hunt down a recipe as soon as I got home, which brought me to Martha Stewart’s site, and yes, I am totally jealous that he has made that pizza for her and not for the girl who has been trying to sneak peeks at his next effort through plyboard cracks for one-hundred-and-eighty days.

Nevertheless, after gasping breathlessly over this schacciata, as they say it in Italy, for several paragraphs you may be confused as to the fact that it’s just pizza dough with olive oil and rosemary but there is no “just” about it. Finished with a little sea salt, I’m in love with the complexity behind its simplicity. We slice it into odd shapes and eat it with a big mixed greens salad, proscuitto, cheese and toasted marcona almonds on nights when we want a low-fuss dinner. One time–shh, don’t tell anyone–I made it with a pizza dough from a local place when it was too late after the gym to make our own and it was nearly as awesome. I’ve decided I’d rather bring this out, even with a pre-made pizza dough, than any baguette or bread next time we have people over. It doesn’t hurt that it makes the apartment smell like heaven.

Thank you: So much for all of the suggestions for Prague and Vienna, as well as those of you who volunteered your WordPress services. We’ll be in touch!

One year ago: Tequila Lime Chicken

Jim Lahey’s Pizza Bianca
Sullivan Street Bakery via a TONY taxicab video via MarthaStewart.com but not really, because it turned out that recipe was all wrong. This is correct.

Makes two long pizzas

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon instant dry yeast
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 sprig fresh rosemary

1. Combine flour, 1/2 teaspoon salt, sugar, and yeast in the bowl of an electric mixer, and slowly add 1 cup cold water. Mix on low speed until ingredients begin to combine, increase speed to medium-high, and continue to mix for about 10 minutes until the dough is smooth, elastic, and cleanly pulls away from the sides of the mixing bowl.

2. Place dough in an oiled bowl, and allow to rest for 2 to 4 hours until it has doubled in size. Split the dough into halves, and form each into a log. Place each log on a generously floured surface, and allow it to rest until the formed dough doubles in size again, at least 1 hour.

3. Put dough on a lightly floured baker’s peel. Dimple dough by pressing it down with your fingertips. Work the dough outward toward the edges of the peel until you reach your desired size and thickness, about 1/4 inch. [Or in our case, realize that I forgot to do this, and instead rolled it out!] Drizzle with remaining olive oil, rosemary and sprinkle with remaining salt.

4. Place a baking stone, sometimes known as a pizza stone, in the oven. Set oven to broil, about 520 degrees. Slide pizza onto baking stone with the baker’s peel. Bake until the bubbles range from golden to deep brown in color, 10 to 12 minutes. [Great trick if you don't have a peel: Use the back of a baking sheet sprinkled with cornmeal.]

It may seem obvious: any average foodie with the slightest sense of morale is aware that New York Pizza is a revered and well-established pillar of the culinary world.  It is embarrassing, then, for me–someone with such high regard for food in its various forms–to admit that I was, until recently, a NY pizza virgin.  It really wasn’t my fault, per se; I grew up going to the city for special outings or occasions, and it was a fluke that we never got pizza on any of our trips.  When I started going to New York more often, I had other food destinations in mind, and although the multitudes of pizzerias called my name, I found myself saving room for meals out.  

Like anyone’s first time, mine was awkward and subpar.  When I mentioned offhand that I had never eaten a slice of famous New York pizza, my mom dragged me into the nearest pizzeria, a yenta bent on keeping a young woman from maid-hood.  She, my sister, and I shared a slice in the sparse room adjoining the pizzeria.  An unfortunate choice, this chicken and broccoli pizza, with its immeasurably and superfluously thick crust, was a flop.  I left my maiden bed pizza parlor feeling empty and unfulfilled, a princess afraid of many unsatisfying future nights spent with her new prince.  Surely, it would get better, no?  I had never been utterly disappointed in New Jersey’s pizza, but I knew that the famous New York pie had yet to find its way to my lips.

‘Twas a score of hours ago when I truly found the reason for the NY pizza craze.  First, I found myself eating ordered-out pizza with a group of people who I met at a school meet-up in front of the Plaza Hotel.  Even for a random pie delivered to a street corner, this was pretty decent.  One pie with mushrooms and goat cheese was actually kind of impressive, and a cracker-thin crust gave the pizza character.  

A few minutes after that “snack,” my sister and I found ourselves walking to Co. for dinner.  I was curious about this controversial pizza joint.  How could an artisan bread maker put out a bad pie?  Lahey’s pizza turned out to average a rating between good and excellent in my book.  The pizza bianca was chewier than I expected, but fresh out of the oven with ricotta, it was a pillowy delight.  Our Popeye pizza was also very good, and it exhibited the same chewiness in the crust while also showing a slightly charred bottom.  We really enjoyed this pizza.  However, we left, we were both conscious of a void within the food receptors in our brains (a culinary radar that reads satisfaction–this is not an actual thing but more of an intuition), we realized that we lacked satiation by sauce.  The order-in pie had no sauce.  Pizza bianca has nothing.  The popeye is all cheese, no sauce!  Damn, didn’t Popeye need his lycopene too?  I suppose the spinach got a better spotlight position without tomatoes present.

Anyway, as we walked back to the Port Authority Bus terminal, I passed a familiar scent.  Then a familiar sight.  Every time I walk down 9th Ave, I pass a pizza place that looks like a crappy box with a mail slot.  A couple of men stand inside, exchanging a slice for the customer’s dollar through said slot.  I always pass it, but this time I put my foot down.  The nose knows, and this was no exception!  I bought my slice, and after topping it with garlic salt and oregano, I dove into this beautiful piece of wedge-shaped joy.  After all the pizza that I had, it was a surprise that anything could still peak my appetite, but this did it.  I reveled in the sauce, cheese, and crust chorus that came singing down my throat, squeezing the pizza-grease in a messy deluge down my esophagus.  I do not mind regressing to a state of barbarism when I am eating something that feels primal and right.  How could I?  

So there, people: I can earnestly say that I am not a pizza virgin any longer; in fact, I am resting myself from such an exhausting and passionate tryst.  I love New York Pizza!  If you are ever walking on 9th ave, and you see the pizza joint on 41st, do yourself a favor and put a dollar through the slot.

I spent much of the month of March in Italy—first touring Rome, Bologna, Florence, Siena, then accompanying the Gruppo Ristoratori Italiani on an incredible culinary tour of Puglia. Pieces from the trip below. 

Puglia’s Ricotta Forte

Chasing Pizza Bianca in Rome

Eating Well at Aperitivi Time

Artisan Gelato from Cremeria Funivia

Making Burrata in Puglia

Grano Stompato, My New Favorite Food

Lunch on an Adriatic Fishing Boat

In other words, my favorite food: Italian!! This past weekend I went to Rome, Italy where I entered gastronomic heaven. No longer did I have to scour the menu to find a vegetarian option that I have to settle for less than excitedly. Italian food offers such a wide variety of vegetarian options that are not only meatless, but actually food to look forward to eating! While the weight-conscious might suffer here, I was basking in the cheese/carb/wine goodness to the point where even upon returning to Barcelona, I went straight from the airport to get more Italian food at Bella Napoli (check it out if you’re in Barcelona!)

Saturday our bike tour stopped at Campo de’ Fiori, where there is a central open-air market. The tables were filled with beautiful fruits and vegetables, similar to La Boqueria in Barcelona but uncovered and with shirts and other various touristy goods. We ate lunch at Forno Campo de’ Fiori, a somewhat legendary bakery and pizzeria at one end of the piazza. Most people were in line for the pizza bianca, Rome’s specialty since it is only made in this city. This is basically chewy pizza crust with only oil and salt for garnish but most people order it filled with any number of cheeses, meats and vegetables. Since I had basically eaten pizza for 3 meals a day the entire trip, I opted for a savory spinach and cheese pie with a flaky, croissant-like crust that reminded me of a quiche.

Later Saturday night we stopped at the famous Il Gelato di San Crispino where I enjoyed one of my favorite desserts: gelato. All the gelato was stored in stainless steel containers rather than the usual routine of displaying every flavor with a fresh fruit version on top. Everything is homemade without artificial flavors or sweeteners, and is in general healthier than the average frozen treat. For example, in the United States, ice cream needs a minimum of 10% butter fat but most between 16% and 24%. In comparison, gelato has only between 4-8%. Il Gelato di San Crispino had unique flavors like honey zabione (wine), chestnut and rum, cocoa and rum, fresh walnut and dried fig, etc. I went for my usual choice-Pistachio.

Truly every meal I had in Rome was delicious so there is really no need to tell you where you must go to eat because I am under the impression that everywhere seems to be good. The advice I can give, however, is to make sure to take a break from your diet if you are on one while in Rome so you can fully experience the food since it is such an important part of Italian culture. Eat all the pizza, pasta, ravioli, lasanga, gelato, etc. that you can because…”When in Rome!”

Eina SEO ekspertas pro piceriją, mato krūvą užrašų:  „pizza jazz, pizzeria, pizzas, pizza house, pizza, pizza napoletana, pizza marinara, pizza romana, pizza quattro stagioni, pizza bianca”. 
- Nieko sau, kiek reikšminių žodžių prigalvojo!- ištarė su pavydu.

El remedio perfecto para comer por poco dinero en Firenze es la “pizza al taglio”. Por 2 euros (o menos, dependiendo de la hora y lo lejos del centro que esté el local) puedes disfrutar de una porción de pizza generosa y por lo general deliciosa.

Las pizzerias al taglio (al corte) suelen ser, por norma, locales tirando a cutres. Un par de mesas altas con taburetes, una nevera de cocacola (¡¡con latas de 50cl!!) y un pequeño mostrador al fondo son todo lo que uno se puede esperar encontrar en ellas. Aunque por las calles del centro las hay más sofisticadas y elegantes (y por lo tanto mucho más caras), las de verdad de la buena son las humildes y cochambrosas (tampoco es que estén sucias, no os penseis, pero cutres son un rato).

La que más frecuentamos nosotros está regentada por unos chinos muy amables, que también venden pasta para llevar, y que solo te dan la vuelta en billetes de 5 euros y monedas de 50 centimos… Además, son muy honrados: siempre te dan el pedazo más grande que tengan en ese momento y a partir de las cinco de la tarde rebajan el precio de las porciones porque son las que han sobrado de la comida y te las tienen que calentar de nuevo.

La variedad de sabores no es el fuerte de los establecimientos de pizza al taglio. Margarita, 4 quesos, jamón, salami y salchichas son las estrellas de un mercado que no abarca muchos más gustos. Sin embargo, las pocas opciones son selectas y están bueniiiiiisimas. Siempre calientes y con algo de aceite por encima, son el pedido perfecto para llevar y degustar en una de las multiples plazas fiorentinas, como la Piazza della Anunzziata, una de nuestras preferidas.

Dentro del mundo de la pizza en porciones, también existe la opción de la “pizza al peso”, que se vende en las panaderias/panificios/pasticerias (distintos nombres para la misma cosa al fin y al cabo). Aquí las opciones se reducen drásticamente a la pizza margarita, la de jamón (no siempre), pero sobre todo a la “pizza bianca”, que no es otra cosa que la masa con aceite y sal (así de simple). Aquí la toman mucho entre horas, en el recreo del cole y también como sustituto del pan en las comidas. La verdad es que está buenísima, y aunque no da para comer, por 60 o 70 céntimos la pieza, siempre ayuda a matar el gusanillo.

Sa Robinsons Pioneer… Jan 2

Madami ba kami inorder? Yung Pizza Bianca lang yung totoo jan hehe

Yumminess so cheesy!

Finding consistently good pizza in Vancouver has always been a challenge. We, for all our culinary inventiveness, have never managed to do for pizza what we’ve done for sushi: which is make it our own. Oh sure, there are a few pizza places like Lombardo’s on “the Drive” or Incendio in Gastown that make a credible product, but there really is no “city-wide” movement for the humble pie.

Following in the best culinary tradition of “if you want it, you’d better make it yourself” we set out to put our new found pizza consciousness into practice.

The key ingredient to great pizza is simplicity… (okay, that and an extremely hot wood-fired brick oven), but like so much of Italian cooking, it always comes down to the little things like refinement and timing.

We cheated and bought our dough from “La Grotta” (our one concession, and yes, a big one!) and set out to make a “pizza bianca”. We caramelized some white and red onions in a little olive oil for our base. We then topped our creation with smoked gouda, chevre, black olives and sliced pear. I must say it had a bit of everything: sweetness from our onions & pears, smokiness from our cheese and saltiness from our olives…heaven! Again, it was the whole simplicity of the thing that made it so good – slightly chewy but utterly thin crust, a light dusting of cheese, and a scattering of a few good ingredients.

So, finding a great pizza in Vancouver that’s reminiscent of Rome? Pretty simple; head to La Grotta and by some dough, pat it out as thin as you can, top it with 1 or 2 great ingredients and then slide it into a super-hot oven…molto buono!