'Er and 'Za

I knew this guy who liked to come up with abbreviated names for everything. It didn't matter how many or how few syllables the original word had - he would abbreviate it. For example, he would come barrelling into our room (this was freshman year) and say, "Dudes, I've got a major craving... for some 'za!" Of course, he meant "pizza." I'd give him this look, like... man, you can't just take the "piz" out of pizza! I need a percussive "p" sound at the beginning of the name, or it simply doesn't remind me of a piping-hot pepperoni pizza. If you had to have an abbreviation, though, I guess I would reluctantly admit that 'Za is better than Pee. Pass me another slice of Pee? No thanks, brah. I'll take the 'Za. (Pause for applause.)

Anyhoo, tonight we made pizza and beer, and in the interests of hypocrisy I abbreviated them in the subject line above. Fnology and our Illustrious Webmaster have been making many pizzas here of late, using our deadly pizza stone and fresh basil from our jung-- er, garden. I decided to take a different road tonight and make a stuffed pizza. It came out decently, as you may or may not see:

That's not a booger in the lower left; thanks for asking. The recipe was for an escarole-stuffed pizza, but I repeatedly failed to procure the primary ingredient. My first trip to Safeway ended in 3 lbs. of regular old green leaf lettuce: it was mislabeled, and I was ignorant. So, I did some internet research. Thank you, Ted Stevens and Al Gore, for this picture of escarole:

I returned to Safeway, armed with my newfound knowledge of this most-beloved member of the endive family. Then, as I stood before the vast array of greenery, I lost my nerve, and decided to ask the produce dude to SHOW me the 'ROLE. He showed me this:

That is known as chicory, as I discovered 5 minutes ago. Against my better judgment, I purchased it. Sigh. Luckily, it's closely related to escarole, so basically it worked fine, and basically I've been wasting your time with this story. I'm just sick of reminding myself what escarole looks like. NEVER AGAIN.

This recipe comes from Gourmet magazine, but you don't need to drive a Lexus or have sex on your private submarine in order to make it. You do need some kind of a round, straight-edged pan. A 9-inch cake pan would be perfect, but we used a 10-inch springform pan and it was fine. Without further Adu (are you Freddy for this?):

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Chicory-Stuffed Pizza
Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, Feb. 2007
Serves 4.

- 3 lb. chicory or escarole (about 3 heads), washed and sliced somewhat thinly, stem-ends discarded
- 1 lb. pizza dough, close to room temperature
- some flour, for handling pizza dough
- 6 tbs. olive oil
- 7 or 8 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed
- 1/2 lb Fontina cheese, coarsely grated (2 cups). You could use mozzarella, too.
- Salt N Peppa

> Put your oven rack in the lowest position and preheat the oven to 500.

> Boil some water in a large (at least 6-quart) pot. Drop the chopped chicory in and push it down into the water. Let it cook, uncovered, until tender but toothsome, about 5 minutes. Drain in a colander and run some cold water over it to stop the cooking. Press to remove excess water. You can dab it with a paper towel if it's really sodden.

> Lightly oil the cake pan. Cut off 1/3 of the dough (put some plastic wrap over the rest). Use some flour on your hands and the cutting surface if the dough is really tacky. Pat the dough into the cake pan, covering the bottom. You don't need to cram it all the way into the edges. Brush it with 1 tbsp. oil and prick all over with a fork. Bake until golden, about 8 minutes. WARNING - if the lowest rack position in your oven is really close to the heating element, it's really easy to scorch the bottom of the crust. Just watch it carefully.

> Meanwhile, heat 1/4 cup oil in a large skillet over medium high heat until it's hot but not smoking (like your girlfriend). Saute the garlic, stirring constantly, for 20-30 seconds, or until it just starts to change color. Add the chicory, salt and pepper to taste (about 1/4 tsp. of each), and saute until you feel like stopping, about 3 minutes. Transfer it to a bowl, let it cool for a few minutes, and then add the cheese

> Spread the chicory filling over the crust in the pan, leaving a 1/4-inch border around the edge. Roll out the remaining dough into a 10-inch round - again, use some flour if it sticks. Transfer it to the pan, covering filling and tucking the edge under the bottom crust. Press the edges to seal. Brush the top with the remaining tbsp. of oil and bake until golden brown, 15 to 20 minutes. If you overcooked your bottom crust, like we did, then you might want to put some oven-safe implement (I used an oversize pie pan) underneath the pizza, to shield it from the direct heat. We did this, and it came out fine.

> Run a sharp thin knife around the edge of the pan. If you're using a cake pan, invert it and carefully dump the pizza onto a rack or cutting board, then turn it right side up; if you're using a springform pan, pop it open, slide your knife between the underside of the pan and the pizza, and slide it onto a rack or cutting board. Let cool 15 minutes before serving.

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There you have it. It wasn't hard to make, and it was pretty good, although it doesn't hold a candle to the white pizza from the Italian Store. Mmm. Next time I make pizza, that's what I'm gonna shoot for. Meanwhile, I'm going to make a habit of inserting one snarky remark per recipe. Did you notice it?

So, the beer... it's not done yet. We'll add the yeast in the morning, and write it up later.