Читать книгу Made in Italy: Food and Stories - Giorgio Locatelli - Страница 85

I was making a journey across London in a black cab one day and the driver asked me, ‘What do you do?’ I made the big mistake of saying, ‘I have an Italian restaurant.’ ‘So,’ he started, ‘what is it about pizza, anyway? It’s just tomatoes on toast, isn’t it? With a bit of cheese on top…’ and off he went. Well, all right; he had a point – probably the guy had never eaten the real thing.

In Italy, though, everyone understands that a proper Italian pizza (not what we call pizza al taglio – the thicker-based one that has come in from America) has to have the perfect balance between a thin crisp base and a softer garnish, which means that you have to eat it within 5-6 minutes of it coming out of the oven, or it will be soggy and spoilt. So you buy pizza in the baker’s shop, or from the guys who sell slices of it on the streets, straight from big wood-fired ovens – not from the chiller cabinet of the supermarket, or delivered from a takeaway. In Italy, we don’t think of pizza as something cheap that can be packed into boxes and driven around town. Not even if they threatened you with six years in prison, would you eat a takeaway pizza delivered on a motorbike!

The perfect pizza oven is a work of art, heated to 500° Fahrenheit, designed to give a combination of air rolling over the top of the pizza, while the bricks underneath seal the base immediately and it becomes so crisp that when it comes out of the oven and you cut a slice, it will be completely firm. I’m not saying anything that has a thick base of dough topped with tomato and cheese is bad – in fact, the kids love it; it’s just not pizza.

I am very proud of the pizza we introduced to London when I worked at the Red Pepper, and later during the time I was at Zafferano, when we launched Spiga and Spighetta, and though we don’t serve pizza at Locanda, we often serve these little pizzette to our guests with aperitifs, while they are waiting for their table. If you want to make big pizza instead of little ones, this recipe will make three – just bake them for about 10 minutes.

Bagna càôda (anchovy sauce) is a very typical sauce in the North of Italy. Not everyone likes anchovies, I know (in which case, serve the pizzette without the sauce); but, if you do, you can make up bigger quantities of it and store it in a squeezy bottle in the fridge, then just shake it up before you use it and drizzle it over pasta, or toasted bread rubbed with garlic, whatever you like…Though I would normally say buy anchovies in salt, this is one recipe that is traditionally done with anchovies in oil.

Makes around 24 small

pizzette for serving with

drinks, or 12 larger ones

375g strong white bread flour (see page 140)

200g water at 20°C

around 60g (about 4 tablespoons) extra-virgin olive oil

10g fresh yeast

10g fine salt

For the bagna càôda:

3 garlic cloves

3 tablespoons milk

1 small tin of good anchovies, drained

a little extra-virgin olive oil

knob of butter

For the topping:

15—20 cherry tomatoes, sliced

a handful of good olives, stoned and sliced

Put all the ingredients for the pizzette, except the salt, into a food mixer with a dough hook. Mix for 3 minutes on the first speed, then add the salt and mix for 6 more minutes on the second speed. The dough should be very soft and sticky. If working by hand, mix with a wooden spoon, rotating the bowl as you do so for about 5 minutes, then work it for another 5 minutes with your hands until the dough is smooth.

Turn the dough out on a work surface (you don’t need any flour), dimple with your fingers and fold (see page 140) and leave to rest for 20 minutes.

Lightly flour your work surface and roll out the rested dough thinly. Have ready 2 upturned baking trays.

With a 5-6cm diameter biscuit cutter, cut the dough into rounds. Lay them on the baking trays and put into the fridge for at least 4 hours – but no longer than 8. If you like, you can roll the trimmings of dough into rough grissini and bake them (see page 142).

A good hour or so before you are ready to bake, preheat the oven as high as it will go. If you have a baking stone, put it into the oven as soon as you turn it on; if you don’t have a stone, use a baking tray.

To make the bagna càôda: put the garlic in a small pan with the milk, bring to the boil and then turn down to a simmer and cook until the garlic is soft, about 10 minutes.

While the garlic is cooking, put the anchovies with a little olive oil and butter into a small bowl over the top of the pan and stir to ‘melt’ them – it will only take a few minutes. (Alternatively, what I often do is just put the closed tin of anchovies into boiling water for 8-10 minutes, then take it out carefully, open it up and discard the oil.) Push through a fine sieve. Crush the garlic with a little of the cooking milk and mix into the anchovies. Loosen, if necessary, with a little more extra-virgin olive oil.

Remove the dough from the fridge and, with your fingers, prod each circle of dough, starting from the centre and working out and around in a circle, then back to the middle again. Prick the tops with a fork, and add your tomatoes, sprinkled with a little sea salt, and the olives.

Slide on to your hot baking stone or baking tray in the oven and cook in batches for 7-10 minutes, depending on the thickness, until golden brown and shiny. Drizzle with a little bagna càôda and serve.