Potluck Pizza: how to astound your friends and keep it simple

Barry Lazar

The request was cottage country basic. "We're doing potluck. Bring over what you have." A simple request but we were at the cottage and the store was half an hour away. The cupboard was almost bare: a package of whole wheat flour – now why had I bought that? – lots of tomatoes, and some cheese from the farmer's market. Some salad stuff, but someone else was bringing a salad.

A-ha! Pizza. Everyone loves pizza, but few make it. Frankly, after you've baked it a couple of times, you won't want to buy it. I had to make the dough from scratch at the cottage, but the Flavour Guy isn't averse to last-minute inspiration, and will buy raw pizza dough at the supermarket or even beg it from a pizza parlour.

For cottage country pizza, I was going to prep everything and then bring it to the neighbour's for baking. The neighbour had pans and, most importantly, an oven – something lacking chez nous.

For the toppings, the simpler the better. Take fresh tomatoes, 1/3 of a pound or 150 g per person, cut them into small chunks, salt them and let them drain in a strainer or colander for an hour or so. Add fresh herbs – basil and oregano are nice – and ground black pepper. For the cheese, grate a half cup per person of soft cheese such as Mozzarella, mild cheddar, Gouda, Bel Paese, Fontina – these all work well – and mix in a little freshly grated Romano or Parmesan. Mild goat cheese (not feta) is good instead of the others but break it into small pieces and dot it over the pizza. Remember, this is potluck – work with what you have. If you don't have tomatoes try canned or fresh asparagus, thin slices of sweet pepper, cooked broccoli, sliced mushrooms, etc. But don't overload the pie or the crust will be soggy.

The flavour punch comes from the oil: heat a cup of olive oil in a small pot and add a tablespoon or more of finely chopped garlic and a teaspoon or less – depending upon your personal heat quota – of chili pepper flakes. Cook this slowly until the garlic just starts to sizzle and remove the pot from the stove. This spicy oil is fantastic brushed on any flat bread, like stale pita, and cooked on a baking sheet in the oven at a moderate heat – 375°F or 190°C – until the bread is golden.

When everything is ready, turn the oven to as high a temperature as it will take without broiling, around 500°F or 260°C. For baking, a pizza stone is nice but the Flavour Guy is adept with cast iron frying pans or a thick cookie sheet or whatever is handy. Use two oven racks, one at the oven's highest level and the other at the lowest. After the oven is at the right temperature, put the pans in for about 10 minutes and be careful. Use thick oven mitts to bring them out just before you put in the dough. The hot pans give the pizzas a great crust.

Once the pans are in the oven, go into action. Lightly flour your hands and the counter surface. Take a wad of dough about the size of a small grapefruit. Flatten it between your hands and stretch it to a 6-inch circle. Then roll the dough using a rolling pin. No pin? Try a wine bottle! If the dough sticks, shake a little flour over it. Turn the pizza 90 degrees after each pass to keep from overstretching one side. You're aiming for a shape no larger than the pan you're putting it in.

Timing is everything. Take the pan from the oven and put something under it – a wire rack, a trivet, a towel – to not burn the counter. Put the dough in the pan, and slip the pan back to the top rack in the oven. Wait a couple of minutes until the dough comes easily off the pan and the bottom starts to brown. Remove the pan, flip the dough, brush it all over with the spicy garlic oil, then cover it with a handful of tomatoes and another of cheese. Put the pan back on the top rack for about 5 minutes or until the top of the dough starts to brown. Work on the next pizza. When that's ready, take the one from the top rack and put it on the lower rack. Keep doing this until you have them all done. Serve at once with a salad, a bottle of wine and a towel to wipe the sweat from your brow. This is pizza that you've worked for, and it's worth it.

Barry Lazar is the Flavour Guy. You can reach him at flavourguy@theseniortimes.com.

Yesterday's food is today's new experience

Barry Lazar

The coffee is fresh. The toast is hot. The butter spreads across the toast in thin rivulets and puddles. Coarsely textured and creamy richness come together in that first delicious bite.

We fix the coffee to our liking, creating perfection in the first cup – a second cup is never the same – with cream and sugar or strongly flavoured, bitter and black. But what if the coffee is from yesterday’s pot, the toast cold (as they often prefer it in Britain)? Do we throw it out? I once had a wonderful summer dinner at a friend’s that featured lamb chops – far too many – from the grill. When the latter, still filled with food, was hauled back to the kitchen, I asked what he would do with it – thinking of how good a cold chop would taste for lunch the next day, or perhaps cutting the meat from the bones and using it as the base for a stew or curry, or slicing it thin and serving it au jus as the lamb equivalent of a hot beef sandwich, or crisping the slices to rid them of any extra fat and then tossing them with lettuce leaves and an oil and vinegar dressing or… But he said nothing. “Nothing. I’ll throw them out. I don’t eat used food.”

Well, he was doing well for himself and could afford never to eat “used” food. But I knew what he was missing. Flavour changes as food gets “left over” – sugars caramelize further when reheated, textures mutate. Cooking is about making the best with what you have, not making what you have with the best. Think of an apple. The crunch and juiciness and perky sourness of that first Macintosh, or sliced and cooked to golden in a little butter with a sprinkling of sugar and served with pancakes and French toast, or cored and then filled with a mess of raisins, rum, brown sugar, cinnamon, a dab of butter, a pinch of salt, and baked. Yesterday’s apple is not yesterday’s food. It is tomorrow’s compote and the following day’s applesauce.

Even coffee, even toast. Sometimes we need to appreciate how good these are on their own terms. That first cup tastes great but why throw what’s left over down the drain? Just because it’s yesterday’s food?

I put it in the fridge for iced coffee and add whatever’s brewing to the cold pot. Last night’s decaf goes down very well with the day before’s caf. Add ice, a dash of milk and just maybe a spoonful of sugar if aiming for a liquid dessert. Want more? Add a shot from that bottle of hazelnut liquor that was a house-warming gift eons ago and has been sitting on the bottom shelf. Yesterday’s food, indeed! And you’ve saved about $10 off the corner barista.

Yesterday’s toast? Surprise! It tastes good cold. Try it – particularly if it comes from a really good loaf – by itself. Savour the nuttiness and texture. Dry toast, tasted simply and eaten slowly, makes a great snack. Or, cut it into cubes, leaving the crusts on, and fry it in a little oil (or the morning’s bacon drippings) into which you’ve slowly browned a finely chopped clove of garlic. Lightly brown all sides of the cubes, toss them with a little salt and then let them cool on a paper towel. Bag them in the freezer for tomorrow’s salad croutons.

Barry Lazar is the Flavour Guy. You can reach him at flavourguy@theseniortimes.com.

Search out local food and drink

Barry Lazar

Excuse my wine-ing… but did someone make a decision that liquids and solids are no longer to be consumed at the same time? Am I a better person if I detect the herbal notes from a high-priced “extra virgin” (which means low acidic) olive oil? Have I failed to achieve a level of wine-aficionado satori because I can’t tell my Gris from my Albarino? When did food start being work and stop being fun?

The Flavour Guy likes food, likes to eat, likes to chew the fat and then some. The Flavour Guy likes going into an Italian grocery store and having the clerk advise him that the $39.99 bottle of olive oil is actually pretty tasty and would work nicely with whatever salad or meat marinade is going towards dinner. Sure a $39.99 bottle of olive oil is sharp, earthy, buttery, grassy, peppery (choose your adjectives here) and tastes pretty nice on its own – just like that magnificent 1998 Pomerol makes for ambrosial sipping and self-satisfied inhaling – but few people make a dinner of a mere chunk of bread dipped in olive oil and washed down with a glass of wine.

Food tastes best when it’s enjoyed in the company of other food (and other people). Even Château Dépanneur is acceptable in the right company – hamburger for instance, or almost any strongly flavoured dish. The more garlic in the main course, the less likely the Flavour Guy appreciates a sincere Sancerre.

Here’s how to do it: eat some food, drink something refreshing, pause and then do it all over again. Repeat as often as necessary until either the plate is clean or the stomach is full. After a little practice you are likely to be able to achieve both conditions at the same time. The idea is to enjoy what we eat and not be cowed because we don’t know what Angus beef is (it’s a popular breed of cattle).

Why are we looking outside – and feeling ill at ease inside – because we can’t choose the perfect liquid to go with our solids? We live in a region blessed with great beer, superb apple cider, and frankly, lousy wine – however we ignore our natural riches and spend fortunes on imported wines and olive oils (often at the same price). The Flavour Guy favours searching out local foods and supporting indigenous agriculture: PEI mussels steamed with a St. Ambroise blond and later, maybe a slice of mignon de Charlevoix cheese with a small glass of very cold Pinnacle ice cider on the side.

Barry Lazar is the Flavour Guy: flavourguy@montrealfood.com

Mussels for two

• A tablespoon of butter
• A cup of finely sliced Quebec seasonal vegetables (all or some of onion, tomato, leek, garlic, celery, red peppers, carrots)
• Lots more chopped garlic (make sure it’s from Quebec, it’s worth it).
• A half bottle of beer (I’m afraid you’ll have to drink the rest).
• A ¼ teaspoon of salt
• A kilo bag of mussels (if the mussels come in a 5 pound bag – double the other ingredients). Make sure the mussels are tightly closed when you buy them.
• A handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped

Melt the butter and cook the veggies over low heat until the onion is soft but not brown. Add the beer, salt and mussels. Bring it to a boil and then quickly reduce it to simmer. Cover. Stir the mussels once or twice. It’s ready when the mussels are open. If a few don’t open, discard them. Sprinkle parsley over the mussels. Serve with a baguette, Quebec cheeses and a green salad.