Pizza
A Yeast-Free Hack for Homemade Pizza Dough
To get started, open a beer and take a healthy chug.
Now more than ever, home is where many of us are seeking refuge and solace in light of the novel coronavirus. This is a tough time, but we’re here for you—whether it’s a new pantry recipe or a useful tip for your kitchen, here are some ideas to make things run a little more smoothly for you and your loved ones.
I rarely get text messages anymore. All of my conversations seem to take place on WhatsApp or, more recently, the Hollywood Squares grid of a Zoom call. The only contact who continues to send texts is my old friend Dominos, who messages me every week to share “Crazy Tuesday,”—or here in Paris, “Mardi Fou”—pizza specials.
Truth be told, I’m more than a little tempted. I don’t miss takeout so much as I miss the occasional break from cleaning up after dinner. But, I also find that when I make the pizza myself—mixing and rolling the dough, laying on the toppings (and if I want funky blue cheese on one side and anchovies on the other, then so be it!)—that I enjoy it more, flour-covered kitchen and all.
Since confinement began on March 17, the French have been (mostly) prudent about staying home. Up until last week, the weather had been uncharacteristically beautiful, the flowering trees and the clear blue skies making the sting of quarantine especially acute. Spirits may be dampened, but French culture remains strong. My favorite wine store has reduced hours, but they still have a hand-written note on the door advertising a plentiful stock of cold rosé. And people still want their fresh-baked baguettes. After all, this is a bread country.
To cut back on daily trips to the boulangerie, many have taken to baking bread at home, and the result is a widespread shortage of yeast. For my homemade pizza, I’ve had to fall back on a recipe I learned years ago when I worked as a cook in Bilbao.
This is not a recipe for pizza snobs. It is a recipe for anyone willing to forgive a slightly imperfect crust in exchange for a delicious vehicle for melted cheese, sauce, and all of the toppings. It’s a great hack and the ace that every home cook needs up their sleeve: beer-crust pizza.
To get started, open a beer and take a healthy chug—we all deserve it. Or if you don’t drink, raise a symbolic “cheers” to yourself for becoming a real-life pizzaiolo, the Italian word for pizza maker. For two medium-sized pizzas, add three to four cups of flour (or sub in a cup of whole wheat flour) to a large mixing bowl and pour in some beer—start with one-and-a-half cups—a glug of olive oil, and a couple of pinches of coarse salt.
I once read in an old cookbook geared toward housewives to always leave one hand clean—that way you can still answer the phone or admire your manicure. Times have changed but it’s still a good tip. Use one hand to begin mixing until you incorporate all of the flour. (You can also use a wooden spoon or rubber spatula, but I like to literally feel it out.) If the dough is too sticky, creating a plaster-like mitt around your fingers, add more flour. If too dry and crumbly, add more beer.
Lightly flour a surface and clap some between your hands like an Olympic gymnast. Knead your dough (folding it over and pressing with your hand heels) until it passes what chefs call the “windowpane test.” Break off a piece of dough, roll it into a ball, stretch it, and hold it up to the light. If you can see light pass through, like a windowpane, your dough is ready. Form it into a smooth ball.
Coat a separate bowl with a touch of olive oil and add your dough. Make her feel snug as a bug by covering the bowl with a dishtowel, and let her nap for at least half an hour. While it rises, you can consider names for your newborn dough baby—Do-rothy and Do-lores are good options, but feel free to be more clever.
You’re in the final lap! Pre-heat your oven as high as possible (your average Neapolitan pizza bakes at 700 degrees F). Return Do-rinda to a lightly floured surface and divide her in two. Use your fingertips to give her a massage, beginning from the middle and working your way outward, from all directions. Take your time and continue to gently prod and stretch until you reach your desired size and thickness. Repeat with the remaining half.
Transfer the dough to a floured or lightly oiled oven tray or pizza stone. Now, add your toppings. If you’re using tomato sauce, go easy—too much makes for a soggy crust. Brush olive oil on the edges and into the oven it goes.
The higher the oven temp, the faster your pizza will cook, so keep an eye on it and cook until the crust is golden brown and the cheese is bubbling.
Maybe it’s time I reply “STOP” to no longer receive the Dominos texts. But, then again, I kind of like getting the messages. You never know when you’ll be hit with an insatiable craving for a Crazy Tuesday.
Which of your favorite beers would you choose for your pizza dough? Tell us in the comments!
Written by: Caitlin Gunther
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42 Comments
I initially used 3 cups of all-purpose flour plus additional flour that I used to mix in after I added the 12-oz. bottle of beer (Michelob Ultra-Lite, if anyone's curious -- it's what I had available); bringing the total amount of flour used to 3.25-3.5 cups, not including what I sprinkled on the surface when I kneaded the mixture. I also added the olive oil and salt as mentioned. This mixture yielded two 10-inch pizza crusts, which I placed on greased sheet pans. I had the oven set on 450F convection, and initially I put the pizza crusts in the oven without toppings and cooked them for about 5 minutes -- I wanted to be sure that the pizzas would not stick to the sheet pans (I thought to cook them without toppings so that in case the pizza stuck to the pans, I wouldn't have wasted all my ingredients). After 5 minutes in the oven, and seeing that the pizzas would not stick to the sheet pans, I added the toppings and put everything back in the oven to bake. I cooked the pizzas for an additional 20-25 minutes. When I took the pizzas out, the crust had firmed up but was not really crisp or very crunchy; the toppings were done, however, so I didn't cook the pizzas any further.
So, my question is this: Why didn't the crust turn out crisper or crunchier -- was it due to the cooking temperature, or putting the toppings on only after I had started to cook the crust, or something else? Is there anything in the process that I have described that I shouldn't have done, or shouldn't do next time? (The flavor of the crust was fine, it was more of a textural issue with its lack of crispiness/crunchiness.)
Thanks in advance for any thoughts/comments that you may have.
My toppings were a small amount of tomato sauce on each, with lots of grated cheese one and a lesser amount of cheese with some onions, bell pepper, and prosciutto on the other one.
Here:
"To get started, open a beer and take a healthy chug—we all deserve it. Or if you don’t drink, raise a symbolic “cheers” to yourself for becoming a real-life pizzaiolo, the Italian word for pizza maker. For two medium-sized pizzas, add three to four cups of flour (or sub in a cup of whole wheat flour) to a large mixing bowl and pour in some beer—start with one-and-a-half cups—a glug of olive oil, and a couple of pinches of coarse salt."
And they give more instruction after that. I agree that they should have laid it out recipe style after the write up. You have to parse through the extra verbiage to get the actual recipe that in this case is more a guide than a specific recipe.
Note: this beer is from Flying Dog Brewery, in Maryland, they have an entire line of dog-themed beers (junkyard dog, underdog, double dog, etc).
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