The Pizza That Would be King

The Pizza That Would be King

"Where were you on the day that Pizza Hut announced that you could order any pizza, any size, any number of toppings, for $10?"  I remember where I was when Elvis died.  I was at the doctor's office.  KPRC delivered the news.  I remember the announcer's grave intonation, and the final line, delivered darkly:  "Elvis Presley has died."  I was eating lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Port Lavaca, Texas, where I learned about the Space Shuttle Challenger tragedy.  Every station interrupted the afternoon stories with news of the explosion.  The footage was looped, a nation's hope renewed each time the loop began anew.  I was spending the night at a buddy's when Saturday Night Live was interrupted by the news of a crackdown on the Polish Solidarity Movement.  Bill Murray was the host, and the news broke during his monologue.  The bulletin's timing was such that we both thought it had to be a joke.  I wasn't even a glimmer in my daddy's eye when JFK was assassinated, but I do know that Joe Dimaggio acted alone, and I also know that Pizza Hut's announcement was a banner day for me. 

At the time, I was working at the library, where I was paid dog food wages, and by dog food wages, I mean one can of store brand dog food per day.  Every once in a while, though, I took fiduciary license and ordered out.  I could order a $10 pizza stacked to the Heavens and eat it for two days, relieving me of eating dog food for two days.  Since Pizza Hut was down the street, I could pick it up, thus avoiding tipping the pizza guy.  But some evenings, the ones when I felt generous and lazy, I'd have my masterpiece delivered (having delivered pizza for the Big Three and lesser outfits during college and lean times, I understand what tips mean to the delivery guy.  I sometimes tipped extravagantly, enabling the pizza guy to pick up a sixer of Shiner after his sweaty, greasy shift instead of his usual swill.)  

Yes my friends, the day of Pizza Hut's announcement was one that will go down in history for me.  A $10 pie and a six pack of lonester set me up nicely many an evening. Two pies and a case of cold stuff when I had company and no one was complaining, until we ran out of beer.  Ordering a pizza itself was fun, but to confess, I feel a little sorry for anyone who's ever taken an order from me.  Surely the person on the other end of the phone thought my orders pranks.  While I never made demands such as "form smiley faces with pepperoni," "place one cube of pineapple precisely in the middle," or "Italian sausage, mushrooms, a deck of playing cards fanned out on it, and candles," I still pushed the envelope.  Once, upon placing an order for what would have been a truly mammoth whopper of a pie, the dispatcher stopped me before I could tell him what I wanted my fifteenth topping to be with "Whoa, whoa, whoooa, un-uh.  No.  No.  No WAY."  "But you said unlimited..."  "Yeah, I know what we said, and now we regret it, but you've gone too far!"  To my knowledge, I'm the only person Pizza Hut's said "No, you can't have that on your pizza" to.

Even so, when I ordered pizza from one of the Big Three, nine times out of ten, it was from Pizza Hut.  Domino's, one can't escape, reeks of "game of chance," and "Better Ingredients, Better Pizza" my ass.  I worked for Better Ingredients for a mercifully brief period, and what they mean is "They were pretty good ingredients when we received them a month ago.  We hope you don't get food poisoning."  Consider the preceding an "Insider's Consumer Tip," and then order accordingly.

Pizza Hut had one sure thing going for it that the other two simply couldn't come close to:  good thin crust.  Make no mistake:  Pizza Hut's is largely lowest common denominator fare.  Arguably, its thin crust resulted due to an accident in the kitchen.  If that's true, it's one of the happiest accidents in culinary history.   That accident begat a crust that inspires envy and curiosity; indeed, I'd tried for years to divine its recipe, to varying degrees of success.  It's too bad that of late, Pizza Hut tops its miracle with psychiatric hospital-grade ingredients.  The last several I'd eaten caused unusual, disturbing cramps.  Maybe that's their way of exacting revenge against smart-alecks with the nerve to take their promotion at face value.

So to Hell with Pizza Hut:  I'll just make my own, and I'll put what I damn well please on it, and as much of it as I want.  A few nights ago, I came close to making the best pizza I've ever eaten.  The crust was almost perfect:  the first three-quarters of the crust were a little floppy, but the outside was perfectly crunchy.  A work in progress.  I also used good ingredients.  Lots of good ingredients.  Truly, my pizza served as a fine example.  It was so good, one might choose it as a last meal, to name but one special occasion.

Some folks say that the crust isn't important.  If you're of this mind, disregard much of what follows and instead, buy a loaf of Wonder Bread.  If, like me, you think that crust makes or breaks a pizza, start here: http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/001199.html.  That's the best dough recipe I've used yet.  The recipe yielded two pizzas and two calzones.  If you're fortunate enough to have a Trader Joe's where you live, you can get most of your ingredients there for pennies on the dollar; furthermore, Trader Joe's products are of the highest standard.  We're lucky that we have one down the street.  If you don't have a Trader Joe's, shop around.  If you bought Wonder Bread, you can probably get away with using ketchup, too.  Or Ragu.  

If you have a pizza oven, a coal burning oven, or an oven that reaches 1000 degrees, you're in luck; if not, you'll need to crank yours to screaming.  It'll scream around 500 degrees.  A pizza stone helps.  If you have one, preheat it.  As the oven heats, roll out your dough.  I rolled mine on a large wooden cutting board, one big enough to accommodate the butchering of a turkey.  I laid down a couple of fistfuls of corn meal, which is helpful for two reasons:  your dough won't stick, and your can slide it right onto your heated pizza stone for shaping.  

I rolled my dough to near water cracker thinness, a true exercise in patience.  Also, the dough wasn't round.  It didn't matter.  When the stone was heated, I slid the dough onto it, trimmed the excess, poked holes in it with a fork to prevent those tumors that tend to form (some people like a tumor or two, I understand), and then put into my 550 degree oven.  If you aren't Gwyneth Paltrow, I strongly recommended par baking your crust.  Par baking increases your odds of a crispy crust.  Do that until the crust is nicely browned and crisp (to test for crispiness, I reached in the oven and poked the crust with my finger.  I'm not recommending that, but, since I'm more prone to kitchen catastrophes than most, you might dare.)  

Crispiness achieved, remove the crust, stone and all, from the oven, and top your pizza.  I topped mine to the very edge.  That helps to prevent the edge from turning black.  I also topped mine such that it barely fit into the oven.  I baked the pizza until the toppings looked done.  Since I'm not Gwyneth Paltrow, I turned on the broiler during the last couple of minutes of baking time, which encourages your pepperoni to shrivel up, among other things.

I won't kid you:  making a pizza is somewhat labor intensive.  The reward for your hard work is a pizza of the sort that you'll snap pictures of for posting on Facebook and a blog.  All told, I'm not sure how long the process took.  It doesn't matter.  The pizza was incredible.  Also, we avoided food poisoning and poorly-considered promises.  What the heck:  I'm putting fireworks on the next one.  

Up yours, Pizza Hut!