Divina Commedia

Speaking of messes, let's talk about pizza. The only truly dramatic mess I have made in my Aga so far, one which left the entire house perfumed with the scent of burnt offerings for what seemed like days on end, was my maiden attempt at making pizza. We had just moved into town, the house was freshly painted, the Aga was newly installed, and my mother had trundled down from North Carolina for her first visit. Excited about all the new shopping possibilities of the area, Mama spent one morning at the kitchen table drinking diet sodas and leafing through the yellow pages. Before long she landed on a listing for a restaurant supply store, and an hour later, we found ourselves pushing a decidedly unenthusiastic 16-month-old in his umbrella stroller up and down the crowded aisles. Amidst the clatter of timers, egg rings, serving trays, industrial-sized cookie racks, and those funny brown bubbled glasses only ever seen at Mexican restaurants, we found something we had both been coveting for years: pizza peels. Hanging in the front corner by the window, they were of two different models. Mama and I both being novices to the world of pizza baking, we did not suspect that true pizza masters needed one of each, a wooden one to build the pizza and put it into the oven and a metal one for its removal. After several minutes of debate during which it never occurred to either of us to ask the store clerk for help, we settled upon a long-handled metal one, and then, to Wolfi's great relief, we headed off home, ready to roll up our sleeves and get to work.

The sauce was easy. As was the crust. As were the toppings. The trouble came when it was time to combine all three and build the pizza. For whatever reason, I just assumed I could roll the dough directly out on the counter top, artfully cover it with toppings, and then scrape the finished product up with the peel and transfer it to the oven. That's what a pizza peel is for, right? Those of you who are pros to pizza making are now undoubtedly shaking your heads and cringing at such outright stupidity. Those of you, however, who have not yet tried to make your own pizza from scratch, read on and learn from my mistakes. When I went to scrape up the pizza, it stuck with all its glutenous might to the counter top. There was no budging it without destroying it completely. I, personally, was appalled. My carefully prepared dinner had been ruined in a few seconds through my own thoughtlessness. Mama, on the other hand, already on her second gin and tonic and feeling quite inspired, did not seem to think an unbaked pizza stuck irrevocably to the countertop presented too serious a problem. "Just make a calzone," she said, draining her glass. And so without further ado, without consulting any books, without uploading and closely scrutinizing any You Tube videos on proper calzone technique, without, frankly, thinking, I folded the dough over and somehow maneuvered the whole thing, with the help of my new pizza peel, into the oven.

Then the smell began, the Vesuvian smell of blackened cheese and charcoaled pepperoni. A smell which, as I mentioned before, lingered on in the house for days. That week, the new wire brush that came with the Aga received a ritualistic work out as I scraped the insides of the burning oven, on my knees and praying to the Aga gods that whatever damage I had done to the roasting oven floor might not be irreparable. At night, lying in bed and inhaling the fumes that were still wafting through the upstairs bedrooms, I was convinced that I had ruined my Aga in the very first week of its existence. But, as those of you who have been cooking with one for a while know, in a few days time, all evidence of my blunder had been wondrously eradicated.

Months later, I have now, if not quite mastered, at least vastly improved my pizza making technique. I have a wooden peel which I use to put the pizza into the oven, one that I bought at the Christmas market in Stuttgart that fits perfectly. (As it turns out, most wooden pizza peels available in the States are too large to fit into the roasting oven. More practical-minded souls than I shave them down with a saw of some sort, but beyond an immersion blender, I do not trust myself readily with power tools.) And as I am still not brave enough to build the pizza directly onto a cornmeal-covered peel like a true pizza master would do, I instead build it on parchment paper. After the pizza has been in for five minutes or so, I pull the paper out from under it and leave the pie to cook directly on the roasting oven floor, all evidence of my lack of professionalism once again completely eradicated.

And Aga pizza has definitely been worth the trial by fire I went through to learn how to make it. Though the roasting oven might not get up to the infernal temperatures of an authentic pizza oven, its hot stone interior does an incredible job. The crust comes out bubbled up at the edges and perfectly done on the bottom, the cheese beautifully melted, the finished dish, a work of art. And if you keep portions of dough and sauce made up in the freezer, you can have a show-stopper dinner ready in the time it takes to say "Divine Comedy."

AGA PIZZA

One pound of olive oil dough (pg. 134 of ARTISAN BREAD IN FIVE MINUTES A DAY by Jeff Hertzberg and Zoë François. If you do not already own this book, go out and buy it. NOW.)

For the sauce:

3 TBS good quality extra virgin olive oil

one yellow onion, chopped

two cloves of garlic, minced

one 28-ounce can of diced tomatoes

salt, sugar, freshly ground pepper and oregano to taste

1. Heat olive oil in a large saucepan on the simmering plate and add onion and garlic. Fry gently until soft, about 5 minutes.
2. Add tomatoes and season with salt, pepper, sugar and oregano
3. Put into simmering oven and leave until ready to use, at least 30 minutes and up to several hours. Don't you just love your Aga?
4. Using an immersion blender, blend until smooth and recheck for seasonings.

For the toppings:

Fresh mozzarella, of course, basil leaves, Kalamata olives, sardines, capers, ham, artichoke hearts, bacon, fresh figs, gorgonzola, arugula, goats cheese, red peppers, mushrooms, walnuts, the possibilities are endless, though frankly, is there anything better than a plain old pepperoni pizza?

To assemble and bake:

1. Roll out the pizza dough to an oval big enough to fit easily on your pizza peel and place it on a piece of parchment paper.
2. Spoon over the sauce leaving a bit of a border.
3. Top with whatever toppings you like.
4. Drizzle over a bit more olive oil just for good measure and using a pizza peel, gently transfer the whole thing to the floor of the roasting oven.
5. After the first 5 minutes in the oven, pull the parchment paper out from under the pizza.
6. Continue baking for 15 minutes more or until the crust is as crispy as you like it and the toppings are done to your taste.