Pizza: the gateway vegetable

For a year during my late teens, I went vegetarian, which, for someone who hated most fruit and vegetables, was quite an accomplishment. That I didn’t die of malnourishment is something of a miracle, but I can probably thank Italian food for that, specifically cheese pizza (not to mention pasta and garlic bread, but that’s another post).

What “cheese pizza” means, of course, is in the eye (and nose and palate) of the beholder, but for at least one variety, the government is stepping in to define and protect it. And as with any sweeping declarations about something seemingly unimportant, it has caused controversy. See the article at the BBC News, “Protection for pizza sparks row in Naples”.

Legend has it that in 1889, in the restaurant The Brandi, the Queen of Savoy was served a pizza made specially for her in the colours of the national flag; a red tomato base, a white mozzarella topping and to finish, a sprig of green basil.

A simple ingenious combination of tastes, which was named after the Queen - Margherita.

Today the Margherita is sold in every corner of the globe but so often it looks and tastes like a plastic impersonation.

The pictures accompanying this post are from my first attempts with our new pizza stone back in January, and was a pizza margherita, alla Trader Joe’s I guess you’d call it since the dough and buffalo mozz came from that store.

Wound up pretty tasty (though it could have used more time for the dough to firm up). It’s harder (though not impossible) to go wrong when you have good ingredients. The Neapolitans defending their pizza are all about proper ingredients and methods:

The new law states the pizza must be no more than 35cm (14in) in diameter and no thicker than a third of a centimetre at its centre, rising to 2cm at the crust.

The tomatoes must be the San Marzano variety grown in the fertile soil at Mount Vesuvius’ base.

The oil: extra virgin; the cheese: buffalo mozzarella. All the ingredients must be from the Campania region.

The oven must be wood-fired, and the pizza must cook in less than two minutes.

Naturally there are disagreements, with different camps championing their versions. I say we’re all winners when it comes to pizza competition.

It occurs to me that pizza was my gateway vegetable, spawning the ideas and efforts that eventually turned into the Grown Diaries.

I’d often thought over the years how curious it was that I loved tomato sauce, but couldn’t stand whole or diced tomatoes. The taste was the same, more or less; the texture was the issue for me.

I remember quite well the first moment I was eating a homemade “crispidilla” (a pizza-like concoction I make on the grill with tortillas, diced tomatoes, olive oil, herbs, and cheese — the Neapolitans would plotz) and concentrating on the diced tomatoes tasting the same as a sauce would have, chomping my way into epiphanic glee. Imagine that!

Of course, just about anything tastes better with a load of melted cheese, but it was a start. And now when I grill those crispidillas up, I wind up with a mere sprinkling of cheese and a ton of tomato.

So, whether you are officially certified to make Pizza Napolitana by the Associazione Vera Pizza Napoletana, or are just making a few pies in your oven at home, you are simultaneously engaged in the sneaky business of making vegetables tasty. And that’s a good thing.