Thank You For Sharing

I make a lot of concoctions at home, both culinary and otherwise. You've gathered this, though, I do suppose. I make up recipes and follow recipes, and I cook and eat many a dinner at home. And it may leave you wondering if I am the sort of person who actually goes to restaurants or, for that matter, even knows what one is. Well, I assure you, I am acquainted! Quite acquainted. I am a restaurant lover, even though I don't go to restaurants all the time. And when I say "lover," I mean that I am a particular, fickle, ornery sort of lover. Okay, okay, so I exaggerate a little. I am honestly not all that difficult to dine with. It's just that I expect great things. Really great things. I mean, it's gotta be better than what I could make at home (or feel like making at home), since I am, after all, paying for it. And that's not so wrong, is it?

And so I like restaurants that are, well, good, but not good in the 36-dollar-entree way. Hell, not even in the 24-dollar-entree way. While there are some excellent, wickedly clever 60-dollar plates of food out there, I'm really more interested in simple, basic, less expensive food, which I really do think can have flavors that are just as impressive as their pricier cousins. Plus, I am usually too much of a grazer for this sort of entree activity, and I rarely have a desire to commit to one single plate of food at a restaurant. So much could go wrong! And, really, so much more could go right if one ordered several smaller plates of things, especially in a new place, when I'm really not sure which direction to go with the menu.

I used to be irritated by this whole "small plates" phenomenon, though. I distinctly remember disliking it quite a bit. It seemed like restaurants wanted you to go out to dinner in order to have snacks. Not that I don't like snacks. It's just that snacks are the things that I eat at home when I don't feel like cooking dinner. So I couldn't figure out how to rationalize paying money for snacks. And, sometimes, when you go out and do this small plates thing, the foods are not so impressive, although, on the other hand, there are truly some outstanding small plates restaurants that have really gotten it right. One example is the place I went last night, In Fine Spirits, which is consistently quite good. While they have some larger, entree-ish plates, many of the items on the menu come in smaller quantities, perfect for passing around and sharing with one or two other people. And these things are pretty delicious.

The funny thing about sharing food at restaurants is that (like those godforsaken beets, or Brussels sprouts, or argyle sweaters), people have very strong feelings about it. Some people love nothing more than to pass around plates, sharing everything on the table. Others, well...others like to have only one plate. That is to say, One Plate Just For Me Which Others Shalt Not Eye Or Touch. I have nothing against these folks -- in fact, sometimes I am totally one of them. There are times when I don't want to pass any dishes. I just want one thing, and I want it to be mine. I don't want to figure out how much everyone gets, and I don't want to knock over the candle on the table as I am passing around the claflouti. But, really, most of the time I like sharing a lot.

At dinner last night, I was with my friend Katie, and we were sharers. The special on Wednesday nights is flatbreads, which I am all about. While the whole "flatbread" name makes me want to puke, it at least doesn't make me feel quite as angry as when pizza is referred to as "'za." Terrible idea, folks. Terrible. Now, granted, pizza crust is exactly that -- flatbread. But there is just something about calling it that that irks me a little, and I can't even exactly pinpoint the reason why. Considering just that, I suppose I shall stop whining and start getting to the point. The point is that these, uh, flatbreads are delicious. About 8" in diameter, with a slightly dense and chewy crust, they are special because of their ingredients. Their super special outfits make them so nice.

Sometimes places try to get a little fancy schmancy with their pizza toppings, and it can be disastrous. The pizzas (agh! sorry! flatbreads!) at this place, though, are really intentional. They aren't crazy for the sake of being crazy. They are delicious, and they happen to be a little funky. We had one, the house flatbread, with spiced apple preserves, farmer's cheese, truffle oil, and arugula. Then, one with bufala cacciotta (a semi-aged water buffalo cheese from Italy, oh my goodness!) and black pepper, and one with roasted chicken, raisin-tomato marmalade (yes, please!) and celery root remoulade. Get outta town! They are just so good. They balance sweet and savory so quietly, but so well. The other riveting addition to this meal was a chopped red cabbage salad, with tiny lentils, shaved Brussels sprouts, apples, pecans, and a boudin noir (that's blood sausage!) walnut vinaigrette. Dashing! I must add, because I'd be a terrible person if I didn't, that my dining companion was a vegetarian. She had passed on the chicken flatbread, of course, and then the salad sounded so good to us (we are both cabbage-obsessed) and I couldn't quite remember what "boudin" was. "Noir," not so tricky. "Boudin," well, I don't know every French word, for crying out loud. It's funny now (um, to me), because of my recent sausage leanings, but the point is that she probably would have had nothing to do with it, had we a French-English dictionary in one of our purses. Anyway, the salad was nearly perfect, and, well, Katie, she's still alive. Um, I think.

When I came home tonight, I was pretty focused on making pizza, which I had steadfastly planned to call "pizza." I have this compulsion that causes me to come home from a restaurant and try to replicate (in some fashion) the dishes I had there. So, then. Make some pizza with me, will you?

I have found the easiest, most incredibly brilliant pizza dough recipe and I want to share it with you right away. Before you roll your eyes, please listen! The most important thing that you need to know is this: you can do it! You can make pizza dough! It will be easy and good and it will take less time than it takes to have a pizza delivered. If you even started to doubt yourself for one second, stop. Halt. Now turn around, go back into that kitchen, and roll up your sleeves. In less than an hour, you will have hot, delicious perfection that has nothing to do with a cardboard box. And you will be so happy. And then you will be your very own flatbread ambassador.

Pizza Dough
sort of adapted from Cooking Light magazine, September 2006
makes one 14" pizza

2 t honey
2 C flour
1 packet active dry yeast
3/4 C warm water
1/2 t salt (optional)
cornmeal for dusting

In a medium bowl, add the yeast and honey to the water. Stir it up and let it dissolve (about 5 minutes, or until little bubbles form on the surface). Add the two cups of flour and salt (if using) and stir with a wooden spoon until mixed (it'll be a sticky, soft dough). Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead in another 1/4 C of flour, a little bit at a time.
Knead for about 6 minutes or until flour is all mixed in and the dough only feels a little bit sticky. (It shouldn't stick to your kneading surface.)
Spray a large bowl with cooking spray and turn the dough ball around to coat it with the oil. Leave it in the bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm place for about 30 minutes, or until doubled. When you poke your fingers into the dough, they should leave finger-holes. If they don't, it hasn't risen enough yet.
Make sure your rising location is warm and draft free. If your kitchen is below 75 degrees F, I'd recommend turning on your oven to about 400 F and keeping the bowl of dough on the back right burner (don't turn the burner on, for God's sake!)

Roll dough into a 12-14" circle-ish shape with a floured rolling pin on a lightly floured surface. It can really be any shape at all! Round pizzas are overrated, anyway. You can even make 3 or 4 small pizzas, or two medium ones -- you get the idea.

Transfer the dough to a rimless baking sheet that has been sprinkled with cornmeal. (If you loop the dough around the rolling pin, it'll make the transfer much smoother.) Now, your dough is done! Add your sauce and toppings. Bake in a preheated 500 F oven (yep, that's hot!) on the lowest oven rack (seriously, do this) for 8-12 minutes, depending on how crispy you like your edges.
See? You did it. And look how proud of you we all are! Now, let's practice for when you have company. Stand with your back to me. Listen to me say, "Wow, this pizza is phenomenal! Where did you get it?" Now, gently turn your head to look back over your shoulder, tossing your hair a little as you go (if you have short hair, just try to look coy). Say, really casually and with an air of slight confusion, "What? This old thing? It's just some pizza I made. No big deal." Shrug your shoulders. Now keep going a little. This is fun! Say, "I mean, it's really just my basic pizza dough recipe. I just throw it together on weeknights all the time." Okay, now you sound too much like Martha Stewart. Back off a little. Turn all the way around and maybe smile a little so you don't look so demonic. Say something less intimidating, like, "Want me to teach you how?"

There. That's more like it.
And there you go. That's how it's done. And this, friends, this is a dish that you have no choice but to share.