Pizza-a-Day

How was your January this year? Mine was busy. I ate a lot of pizza.

Pizza. It has long been a daunting task for me. So daunting that I simply didn't approach it. I let others take the lead. And usually that was good enough. You see, I am more or less in the camp that thinks you should do something well or not at all. I don't own an oven that goes up to 800 degrees, and have long found most homemade pizza to be so subpar and depressing that it kept me away.

Some people swear by pizza stones. I'm ignorant. Of the two pizza stones in my house, one has broken into many pieces and the other simply doesn't fit into the oven. The door doesn't close and you have what is essentially a rock sticking out of a rather inefficient heater. What I do have, and any self respecting cook should as well, is a cast iron skillet. I use it for everything and so should you. I can't stress this enough. So a couple months ago I got to thinking, is there another work around for making pizza at home that doesn't require a fancy oven or specialty equipment? The answer is yes. 

Most of the method I employed is covered in this article here. But here's the quick and dirty: Turm on your broiler. Heat a cast iron skillet on your oven until you think it might catch fire. Assemble your pizza, slide it into red hot skillet, and then into the oven for a few minutes. That's it. Enjoy your pizza. The end.

Here is a simple pizza of sauce, parmesan, and blue cheese on the peel. A floured wood cutting board works great too.

Here's the pizza in the pan right after being slid off the peel and into the skillet.


And here it is a few minutes later.

I'm still a couple papers away from my MA in linguistics. Instead of making papers in January I made pizzas everyday. I am a moron but also I am a better pizza cook. If anything can be learned from this, it is that learning a skill takes time. Putting your energies into something once or twice might lead to decent results. But doing something day in, day out just might make you an expert. Do I make perfect pizzas? Hello no. Can I make these pizzas in my sleep? Yes I can. I still have a lot of things to improve upon. Getting comfortable with the ingredients and methods is the step that must be overcome before you can actually have some control. Before then you might just be getting lucky.

Some of the "best" food I've ever eaten (can I really say such a thing?) has often been made by folks who have been making a particular dish for years. For decades even. Their techniques have developed from a deep understanding of the ingredients, techniques, and results. In many ways this project was inspired from artisan bakers, noodle vendors, and taco sellers I have been blown away by over the years across the globe. No, I'm not in the same league nor will I ever be, but making the same thing each and every day has lead me to have an even deeper appreciation for those who spend years of their life making one thing each and every day of their work week.

If you have some time to spare and a desire to make pizza on your own, here's my basic dough recipe straight outta the Cheese Board recipe book. 

Here it is without much elaboration:

1 tablespoon of yeast

1.5 cups of water

1.5 teaspoon of salt

2 tablespoons of olive oil

3.5 cups of flour

Over the course of the month I experimented with different combinations of flour. I found that two cups of white bread flour and a cup and a half of whole wheat made the best crust. But then again, I'm still experimenting. You should too.

Get baking.

And for those of you who only care about the pictures, here's the slideshow of pizzas from the month:

Yamo

Today I want to talk about Yamo, one of my very favorite restaurants in San Francisco. Yamo is a long standing Burmese joint in San Francisco's mission. It's not a secret by any means and it's always got a line. And Sometimes that wait is intolerable.

What brings me back over and over again is the small seating area, which only seats about twelve, that places you right in the kitchen. This sense of immediacy is one of the more exhilarating things really. you see and hear metal utensils smack against the wok, see flames jump as oil is added, hear indecipherable words, phrases and cackles from the older ladies who work their butts off in this tiny space. There are no frills, and the atmosphere is simply the well worn kitchen and seating area. There's nothing you don't need in this place save for the food.

So, how is the food? It's pretty good! I mostly ignore the stir fry dishes, as they just seem to be retreads of well known Chinese dishes. However, a few things are worth a try. On my most recent visit, we started with the tea leaf salad.


It's a great mix of fermented, fishy, salty, and crunchy. It's small, but so is the price.

My companion tore into the ever popular house noodles. It looked and tasted nice enough.

Just about every visit though, I get the poorly named "Chicken Noodle Soup."

If it isn't obvious from the picture, it's a bowl of coconut curry noodles, topped with shallots and cilantro. For me it's an ultimate comfort food. It never ceases to excite my taste buds and satisfy a certain craving.


Don't let me overstate here dear reader. This isn't a place to take a group, or get a fancy or even exceptionally authentic Burmese meal. It's really the charm of the experience that keeps me coming back. If you were to look up 'hole in the wall' in the dictionary there would be a picture of Yamo next to the definition. For me, Yamo is one of the closest experiences in America to eating at a noodle stall in the street or in an alley somewhere in Asia. What you get is simple, fresh, and cheap food. It always puts a smile on my face.

Yamo
3406 18th St
San Francisco, CA 94110
(415) 553-8911

One Last Cup

This afternoon I finally broke down and cooked up the very last of my Oaxacan chocolate. I was hoping to save it for some special occasion but then realized that no occasion would ever present itself and to continue hoarding this treasure would continue either until I forgot about it entirely or it became ingested by some vermin. So in between some tasks which are unmemorable and thus unmentionable, I heated it on the stove top. I made it foamy not with the traditional wooden implement seen here, but with a milk frother bought a couple of years ago at Ikea. Modern times!

As with food and drink consumed away from its place of birth, something wasn't quite right, but then again nothing ever is. Today I wasn't feeling the overwhelming sense of melancholy I felt during previous moments of consumption and I suppose that's a good thing. If you're anything like me dear reader, food and drink is not merely about the moment at which it is consumed, but also reminiscent of the previous times and places gone by. These are too numerous and weighty to broach in this medium but i will say that nothing else tastes quite like a fresh, hot, foamy cup of Oaxacan hot chocolate. Until we meet again...