Tag: deep dish pizza

  • Deep-Dish Grilled Onions & Mushroom Pizza 

    Deep-Dish Grilled Onions & Mushroom Pizza 

    There is something satisfying about making pizza from the beginning.

    Not opening a box.

    Not waiting for someone to knock on the door.

    Flour. Water. Yeast. A little patience.

    And perhaps patience is the ingredient we have become most reluctant to use.

    This dough spends the night in the refrigerator. Nothing dramatic happens. It simply rests while the yeast does its quiet work, turning a handful of ordinary ingredients into something that tastes as though considerably more effort went into it.

    The next day, onions and mushrooms go into a hot skillet. The onions soften and sweeten. The mushrooms lose their water and begin to brown. Shred a pound of mozzarella by hand.

    And yes, shred the cheese yourself.

    The bagged stuff is convenient, but convenience sometimes comes with a small tax on quality. Pre-shredded cheese is coated to keep the pieces separate, which also keeps them from melting quite as beautifully. For this pizza, buy the block.

    Then build the thing.

    No shortcuts necessary.

    10-Inch Overnight Deep-Dish Pizza

    Makes: One 10-inch deep-dish pizza

    Serves: 4 generously

    Dough fermentation: 12–24 hours

    Bake: approximately 25–30 minutes at 475°F / 246°C

    For the Seasoned Overnight Dough

    • 265 g bread flour
    • 158 g warm water, about 95–100°F / 35–38°C
    • 35 g extra-virgin olive oil
    • 6 g kosher salt
    • 2 g sugar
    • 1.5 g instant yeast
    • 1.5 g garlic powder
    • 1.5 g onion powder
    • 0.5 g dried oregano
    • 0.5 g dried basil
    • 0.5 g freshly ground black pepper

    Optional, but very good:

    • 3 g finely grated Parmesan
    • 0.5 g smoked paprika
    • 0.25 g dried thyme

    For the Pan

    • 14 g extra-virgin olive oil
    • 4 g cornmeal

    For the Pizza

    • 1 lb / 454 g low-moisture whole-milk mozzarella, freshly shredded from a block
    • 8 oz / 225 g fresh mushrooms, sliced
    • 1 medium red or yellow onion, about 170–200 g, sliced into approximately ¼-inch strips
    • 1 tablespoon / 14 g olive oil, for grilling the vegetables
    • ¼ teaspoon kosher salt
    • Freshly ground black pepper
    • 1¼ cups / about 300 g thick pizza sauce
    • 20–25 g freshly grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano
    • ½ teaspoon dried oregano
    • Optional red-pepper flakes

    I like red onion here, especially with mushrooms. It retains a little character after cooking and gives the finished pizza some sweetness without disappearing into the sauce.

    The Night Before

    Put the flour, salt, sugar, yeast, garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, basil, and black pepper into a large bowl.

    If you’re using the Parmesan, smoked paprika, and thyme, add those too.

    Pour in the warm water and olive oil.

    Mix until the ingredients come together into a rough dough.

    Knead by hand for about 8 minutes, or about 5 minutes in a stand mixer.

    You’re not looking for perfection. You’re looking for a dough that has changed beneath your hands—smooth, elastic, soft, and just slightly tacky.

    Lightly oil a bowl and put the dough inside.

    Cover it and leave it on the counter for 30 minutes.

    Then put it in the refrigerator.

    Leave it there for 12–24 hours.

    Eighteen to twenty-four is even better.

    Time is doing some of the cooking before we’ve ever turned on the oven.

    The Next Day

    Take the dough from the refrigerator about 1½–2 hours before you want to make the pizza.

    Cold dough remembers where it has been. Give it time to loosen up.

    While it does, make the toppings.

    Grill the Onions and Mushrooms

    Heat a large skillet—cast iron is excellent here—over medium-high heat.

    Add the tablespoon of olive oil.

    Add the mushrooms first and spread them into a relatively even layer. Let them cook for 3–4 minutes before moving them much.

    Mushrooms contain a remarkable amount of water. We want that water in the skillet, not trapped beneath our cheese.

    Once they’ve begun releasing their moisture, add the sliced onion.

    Season lightly with salt and black pepper.

    Continue cooking for another 5–7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the mushrooms have browned and the onions are tender with some caramelized edges.

    Don’t cook the onions all the way down into jam. They still have another half hour in a hot oven.

    Transfer everything to a plate and allow it to cool.

    This step matters.

    Raw mushrooms placed directly onto a deep-dish pizza can release enough water to make the center soggy. Cooking them first concentrates their flavor while protecting the crust.

    Shred the Cheese

    While the vegetables cool, shred the mozzarella.

    All of it.

    One pound.

    It sounds excessive until you remember what we’re making.

    This isn’t a thin pizza where cheese is scattered politely across the surface. Deep dish requires structure. That mozzarella forms a rich layer between the crust and everything wet that comes afterward.

    Use low-moisture whole-milk mozzarella, preferably sold as a block.

    Avoid fresh mozzarella packed in water for this particular pizza. It carries too much moisture.

    And skip the pre-shredded bag if you can.

    Freshly grated mozzarella melts into long, uninterrupted pools of cheese that remind you why pizza became beloved in the first place.

    Prepare the Pan

    Preheat the oven to 475°F / 246°C. Give it a good 30–45 minutes to heat through.

    Coat the bottom and sides of a 10-inch / 25-cm deep-dish pan with 14 g olive oil.

    Don’t be timid with it.

    That oil is partly responsible for the wonderful thing that happens to the bottom and edges of this crust. It doesn’t merely bake.

    It almost fries.

    Sprinkle the bottom with the cornmeal.

    Place the dough in the center and begin pressing outward with your fingertips.

    Work it across the bottom and approximately 1½ inches / 4 cm up the sides.

    If the dough keeps shrinking back, stop.

    Give it ten minutes.

    Then try again.

    Sometimes dough, like people, becomes considerably more cooperative when you stop fighting with it.

    Cover the pan and let the shaped dough rest for 45–60 minutes.

    Build the Pizza

    Deep dish asks us to forget some of what we know about pizza.

    The sauce does not go down first.

    Layer it like this:

    1. Freshly shredded mozzarella
    2. Grilled mushrooms and onions
    3. Pizza sauce
    4. Parmesan or Pecorino
    5. Oregano

    Spread most of the mozzarella directly over the dough, taking it nearly to the edges.

    Reserve roughly 75 g if you’d like some browned cheese visible on top, as in your pizza.

    Scatter the grilled mushrooms and onions evenly over the mozzarella.

    Spoon approximately 300 g pizza sauce over everything. Don’t mash it down. Spoon it across the surface and gently spread it.

    Finish with Parmesan or Pecorino, oregano, and the reserved mozzarella.

    A little crushed red pepper is welcome if that’s your way.

    Bake

    Place the pizza on the lower third of the oven.

    Bake at 475°F / 246°C for 25–30 minutes.

    Start watching carefully around 22 minutes.

    The cheese should be bubbling and beautifully browned in places. More importantly, the outer crust should be a deep golden brown.

    If the cheese is getting too dark before the crust is ready, loosely tent the top with aluminum foil.

    When it’s finished, take the pan from the oven and do something surprisingly difficult:

    Leave it alone.

    Give it 10–15 minutes before cutting.

    That rest lets the cheese, sauce, and vegetables settle. Cut immediately, and all that beautiful filling is much more likely to run onto the plate.

    Run a thin spatula around the edge, slice it into wedges, and serve.

    A Note From the Kitchen

    There are easier ways to make pizza.

    That’s worth admitting.

    You can buy dough. Buy shredded cheese. Open a jar. Throw raw vegetables over everything and have dinner on the table considerably sooner.

    And sometimes that is exactly what dinner needs to be.

    But this is something different.

    You make the dough tonight for something you won’t eat until tomorrow. You grate a pound of cheese. You stand over a skillet long enough for mushrooms to brown and onions to soften.

    None of these things is particularly difficult.

    They simply ask you to care.

    And maybe that’s one of the quiet pleasures of cooking at home.

    Every once in a while, we make something slowly, not because we have to, but because we can.

    Kyle J. Hayes

    kylehayesblog.com

    Please like, comment, and share

    Resources for Hard Times

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  • The Birthday Pizza

    The Birthday Pizza

    Every year, around my birthday, I usually put on a celebration that looks acceptable from the outside.

    I go somewhere.

    I sit at a table.

    I order something average.

    Sometimes there are friends. Sometimes there are not. Sometimes the room is loud enough to convince me that I am participating in life the way people are supposed to. Sometimes I mistake being around people for being less alone. Sometimes I force myself to be social because there is a voice in the world that says a birthday should be witnessed, photographed, toasted, announced, and surrounded.

    And maybe there is nothing wrong with that.

    There are years when we need the room.

    There are years when we need the noise.

    There are years when we need someone across from us saying, I am glad you are here.

    But this year, I wanted something different.

    This year, I stayed home.

    Not out of sadness.

    Not out of defeat.

    Not because no one asked.

    Not because I had nowhere to go.

    I stayed home because I wanted to spend the day in a way that felt honest.

    There is a difference.

    I have been learning that a life does not become smaller simply because it becomes quieter. Sometimes quiet is not emptiness. Sometimes, quiet is where the truth finally has room to sit down. Sometimes, the most important celebration is not the one that gets witnessed by others, but the one that proves you have finally learned how to keep company with yourself.

    So I made myself something I wanted.

    Hawaiian pizza.

    Yes.

    Pineapple on pizza.

    Fruit on pizza.

    The thing people argue about, like it is a moral failure instead of a topping choice. The thing that makes certain people act as if civilization itself is held together by pepperoni, sausage, and obedience. The thing that seems to exist, at least in part, to provoke.

    And maybe that is why I wanted it.

    Not because Hawaiian pizza is rebellious in some grand political sense. It is still pizza. Dough, sauce, cheese, ham, pineapple, bacon. It is not a manifesto. It is dinner.

    But sometimes dinner tells the truth anyway.

    For years, I think I was careful in ways I did not always notice. Careful about what I said. Careful about what I wanted. Careful about how much of myself I allowed into the room. Careful about not being too strange, too quiet, too intense, too honest, too much. There is a slow violence in that kind of self-editing. You learn to trim yourself before anyone asks. You learn to stand at the edge of your own life and call it maturity.

    But this year has been different.

    I have been trying to become more honest.

    In my writing.

    In my living.

    In the small, ordinary choices that do not look important until you realize they are the entire architecture of a life.

    A birthday meal does not have to impress anyone.

    It only has to tell the truth.

    And the truth was this: I did not want another average restaurant meal. I did not want to sit somewhere under manufactured lighting, paying too much money for a plate that arrived without memory. I did not want to perform gratitude for an evening that did not feel like mine.

    I wanted dough under my hands.

    I wanted sauce.

    I wanted cheese.

    I wanted pineapple browned in a pan until some of its sweetness deepened and its edges caught a little color. I wanted bacon crisp enough to matter. I wanted ham. I wanted the absurd, beautiful combination of sweet, salty, smoky, and soft. I wanted a pizza that did not ask permission to exist.

    That may sound like too much meaning to place on a pizza.

    But food has always carried more than hunger.

    Food remembers what we refuse to say plainly. It carries loneliness and celebration, thrift and pleasure, memory and invention. It tells the story of who cooked, who was fed, who was forgotten, who made do, who dared to make something strange and call it good.

    A homemade pizza is not just a meal.

    It is evidence.

    Evidence that you can choose yourself without making a speech about it. Evidence that care does not always arrive from someone else’s hands. Evidence that a quiet room can still hold warmth. Evidence that another year passing need not be marked by spectacle.

    Sometimes it can be marked by flour.

    By yeast.

    By a hot pan.

    By pineapple.

    By the ridiculous courage of making exactly what you wanted and refusing to explain it too much.

    I liked it.

    That feels important to say.

    Not because the world needed another defense of Hawaiian pizza, but because there is freedom in liking what you like without apology. There is freedom in making the meal you want, rather than the one that would make sense to someone else. There is freedom in realizing that taste, like identity, does not always need a courtroom.

    This year, I stayed home.

    This year, I made myself pizza.

    This year, I let quiet be enough.

    And yes, I put pineapple on it.

    Here is the recipe to prove it.

    14-Inch Deep Dish Hawaiian Pizza

    This pizza is built for a 14-inch/35 cm deep-dish pan. The crust is seasoned gently so it complements the toppings without overpowering them. The pineapple is caramelized first to deepen its sweetness and remove excess moisture, helping keep the pizza from becoming soggy.

    Ingredients

    For the Dough

    • 500 g all-purpose flour
    • 5 g instant yeast
    • 9 g fine salt
    • 4 g sugar
    • 1.5 g garlic powder
    • 1.5 g onion powder
    • 1 g dried oregano
    • 0.5 g black pepper
    • 325–340 g warm water, about 38–40°C / 100–105°F
    • 40 ml olive oil

    Start with 325 g of water. Add the remaining water only if the dough feels too dry.

    For the Pan

    • 30 ml olive oil

    For the Caramelized Pineapple

    • 120–160 g pineapple, drained and patted dry
    • 1 teaspoon butter or oil
    • Small pinch of salt
    • Optional: tiny pinch of brown sugar
    • Optional: tiny pinch of red pepper flakes

    For the Toppings

    • 225–275 g mozzarella cheese
    • 150–200 g ham or Canadian bacon
    • 75–100 g cooked bacon, chopped
    • 200–250 g pizza sauce
    • 25–40 g thin red onion, optional
    • Optional: extra mozzarella for the top
    • Optional: red pepper flakes or hot honey after baking

    Optional Crust-Edge Finish

    • 15 g melted butter or 15 ml olive oil
    • Small pinch of garlic powder
    • Small pinch of oregano
    • Small pinch of salt

    Method

    1. Make the Dough

    In a large bowl, combine the all-purpose flour, instant yeast, salt, sugar, garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, and black pepper.

    Stir well so the seasoning is evenly distributed.

    Add 325 g warm water and 40 ml olive oil. Mix until a shaggy dough forms. If dry flour remains at the bottom of the bowl, add more water a little at a time.

    The dough should feel soft and slightly tacky, but not wet.

    2. Knead the Dough

    Knead for 8–10 minutes, until the dough becomes smooth and elastic.

    If the dough is too sticky to handle, add flour lightly, a small amount at a time. Try not to add too much. A soft dough will bake better than a dry one.

    3. Let the Dough Rise

    Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl. Cover and let it rise for 1½ to 2 hours, or until doubled.

    For better flavor, you can refrigerate the dough for 12–24 hours after mixing. Let it sit at room temperature for about 1 hour before shaping.

    4. Caramelize the Pineapple

    Drain the pineapple well and pat it dry with paper towels.

    Heat a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the butter or oil.

    Place the pineapple in the skillet in a single layer. Let it cook for 2–3 minutes without moving it too much, until it begins to brown.

    Flip and cook another 2–3 minutes, until the edges are golden.

    Add a small pinch of salt. If the pineapple is not very sweet, add a tiny pinch of brown sugar. If you want a little heat, add a tiny pinch of red pepper flakes.

    Remove from the pan and let it cool before adding it to the pizza.

    5. Prepare the Pan

    Coat a 14-inch / 35 cm deep-dish pizza pan with 30 ml olive oil.

    Make sure the oil covers the bottom and sides. This helps the crust bake to a golden, crisp finish.

    6. Shape the Dough

    Place the dough into the oiled pan.

    Press it gently across the bottom and up the sides. If it pulls back, let it rest for 10 minutes, then continue pressing.

    The dough should climb the sides enough to hold the toppings.

    7. Second Rise

    Cover the pan and let the dough rest for 25–35 minutes.

    This gives the crust more lift and keeps it from becoming too dense.

    8. Build the Pizza

    For deep dish, layer the pizza this way:

    1. Mozzarella cheese on the bottom
    2. Ham or Canadian bacon
    3. Caramelized pineapple
    4. Cooked bacon
    5. Thin red onion, optional
    6. Pizza sauce on top
    7. A little extra cheese, optional

    Putting the cheese on the bottom helps protect the crust from moisture.

    9. Bake

    Preheat the oven to 220°C / 425°F.

    Bake for 25–35 minutes, until the crust is golden, the cheese is bubbling, and the bottom is cooked through.

    If the top browns too quickly, loosely cover it with foil for the final 10 minutes.

    10. Rest Before Slicing

    Let the pizza rest for 10 minutes before cutting.

    Deep dish needs time to settle. If you cut it too soon, the filling may run.

    11. Finish the Crust

    If desired, brush the crust edge with melted butter or olive oil mixed with a small pinch of garlic powder, oregano, and salt.

    Notes From My Kitchen

    The pineapple matters.

    Do not put it on wet.

    Drain it. Pat it dry. Give it heat. Let it brown a little. Let some of the sweetness deepen before it ever touches the pizza.

    The bacon should be cooked first. The ham should be smoky if possible. The sauce should be present, but not excessive. Deep dish already asks the crust to carry a lot.

    And the crust should not be bland.

    Garlic, onion, oregano, black pepper, and a little sugar give the dough enough character to stand beside the pineapple without turning the whole thing into a novelty.

    This is not a pizza for everyone.

    That is fine.

    Not everything has to be.

    Some meals are not meant to please the room. Some meals are meant to tell the truth about the person who made them.

    This year, I made the pizza I wanted.

    Sweet. Salty. Smoky. Strange to some. Good to me.

    Kyle J. Hayes

    kylehayesblog.com

    Please like, comment, and share

    Resources for Hard Times

    If you’re looking for practical help, food support, or community resources, you can visit the Salt, Ink & Soul Resources Page.

    👉 Resources for Hard Times