The place where pizza comes to be written about

An interview with Marco Pierre White

Smoking is not big or clever. You can bet that Adam Richman would not smoke.

These are exciting times at 12 Inch Pete Treat, and not because I am confirmed to go and work at shift at Dominos on my birthday this year with two top Page 3 girls flanking me and nibbling coquettishly at my spicy sausage (copyright Carry On Butcher, 1965). Nope, a mere several days after we – by which I mean Jon Horsley, estimable top brass at TV Bite, a much better site about food than this sorry shower of shite ever will be – managed to purloin for ourselves a fully exclusive interview with the living god that is Adam Richman from Man Vs Food, we – by which I mean Jon Horsley, estimable etc – have managed to do the same with Marco Pierre White, arguably an even bigger name in the culinary world. Although I personally would not make that argument. Adam Richman is THE MAN.

Gaze upon perfection, ye mighty

So here, in all its unedited glory, is our fully exclusive, world exclusive, 100% exclusive interview with top cheffing type Marco Pierre White, who my sources tell me is pretty handy with a whisk.

12 Inch Pete Treat: What’s your favourite pizza topping?

Marco Pierre White: I find that if they get the bread right, it doesn’t matter what’s on top of it. It’s all about the bread.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we continue to get all the big names, all the time.


Filed under: Guest drops

Micky Worthless and budget pizzas

Pete’s note: One of the more happier happenings of my recent life has been my discovery of the Don’t Flop rap battle league, in which I am proud to say I have now become an active participant. I’ve made a great many friends through the league, too many to mention in detail, but one of the main ones is Micky Worthless, who is not just a brilliant battle rapper and very funny man, he’s also a thoroughly genuine and adorable bloke. Micky is unemplizzle – that’s “between jobs” to me and you – so I asked him to give me his guide to pizzas when there’s not much cash in one’s pocket. He did not disappoint…

This man is a genius

I was gonna take a picture of this pizza I was eating for lunch but forgot to until the last bite. It was nice. I got it half price at Tesco. I don’t normally buy the Pizza Express ones but I saw it on offer and thought “fuck it” and got it. Normally I buy Iceland pizzas because they have good variety for cheap money or Sainsbury’s do a BANGING stonebaked pizza for £1.60 so I normally go for the Chicken or Hawiian one of that.

This is some of the pizza that Micky had for lunch today

I eat pizzas way too much. I love them because they are easy and they taste good. You just throw it in the oven and BOOM. 15 minutes later you are eating a good old dinner. Buy some coleslaw for like 46p and a tin of macaroni and you are set for about £2.50. I eat pizza so much, I got embarrassed to eat in front of my flatmates. It was like a pizza habit I was trying to hide. Every time I was going in the kitchen, one of my flatmates would say “what you having for dinner Micky? Pizza?” and everyone would laugh. It was kinda funny at first then it got mad corny and played out but it kept coming up. I got so sick of that joke. Kinda like the Mexican jokes in my battles.

I never really liked Mexican pizzas. Chicken fajita pizza? Nah man, sounds like a mess to me. I don’t dig seafood either. I just read Cashmore’s entry about seafood though. He seems to like it! Barbecue sauce on pizza is okay, but it’s overrated.

Filed under: Guest drops, My favourite pizzas

Movie And A Pizza #3.1: Martin Daubney on Mr Mom and a Pizza Pan Milano

Pete says: This week’s M&AP is a guest drop from Mr Martin Daubney, former Loaded editor and a man who arguably knowns more about mid-1980s high-concept comedy than anyone in the civilised world…

“Mmm, pizza make anything in the entire world better” is the kind of throwaway comment that disciples of the crust might casually grenade into an anodyne social gathering, as their fangs sink into yet another magmatic Pepperoni Passion.

But is there any truth in it?

Well, I, for one, think so. Several years ago I found that the funeral of a particularly fond Auntie was definitely uplifted by the welcome presence of a tepid, soggy, previously frozen (and decidedly 1970s) McCain’s French bread pizza nestling amongst the otherwise tawdry post-crematorium buffet. But what about the ultimate challenge: can pizza give much-needed open heart surgery to an item of light entertainment starring Michael Keaton?

I obliquely refer to Mr Mom, a family movie that has offended every atom of man’s being since it was spawned in 1983. Bulimic, vanilla, toe-curlingly predictable and up there with enforced gang rape as a way of whiling away a winter’s eve – or so you’d think. You know the deal – high-flyer loses his job and becomes a stay-at-home dad, missus goes back to work, all kinds of domesticated/scatological high-jinx ensues, yada yada yada. I fully expected to abjectly hate it – but, with the addition of piping hot pizza and a good glass of claret, didn’t. In fact, as a fully-bearded, bungling Keaton became addicted to daytime soap operas and threw a wives-only poker school, all the time popping those yummy old cans of Bud with the proper ring pulls, smoking heavily and chewing endless, blatantly product-placed Dominos – for this is a great pizza movie in every sense – I found myself seeing a little of me in him. More, I genuinely liked the guy.

When Keaton was attacked by a runaway vacuum cleaner to the Jaws theme, then played out a slo-mo pastiche of Chariots Of Fire at the wife’s boss’s sports day, me and the missus were thoroughly hooked. And when his errant washing machine “attacked” the cable guy, we concurred that we enjoyed Mr Mom ten times more than the previous night’s flick, the Oscar-nominated yet frankly cancerous The Tree Of Life starring pompous arse trumpet Brad Pitt.

So, to the pizza. Inspired by Pete and Rosie’s “keep it local” sentiment [editor’s note – Rosie and myself don’t actually have one of these at all, we would much rather order from Papa John’s or Dominos and have done with it, as we are essentially simple folk, albeit two very attractive ones], I worriedly eschewed my usual no-brainer Dominos Chicken Combo Meal and ventured 100 worrisome yards to Pizza Pan in East Dulwich. Ordinarily, PP’s chances of luring passing custom is mortally wounded from being nestled betwixt a fragrantly odorous curry house called Gandhi’s – the name itself is usually enough to tempt the comedy drunk in out of the cold, unforgiving SE22 night – and the Yee Wah, a great, cheap, deliciously dirty Chinese.

But duty beckoned, and PP does benefit from being opposite The Clock House, an inoffensive Young’s boozer that keeps good keg ale. You give the PP boys your mobile number, then swig a pint of Ordinary while you clasp your blower and feverishly await their “Mr Martin, pizza, it is ready” call. Surely, this is technology at its finest. Being a Monday, the PP boys threw in some free spicy chicken wings…

Free wings! FREE WINGS!

…Microwaved to the point of nearly setting fire, anaemic and worthy of weird Latin nomenclature, they were greasy, translucent and unremittingly awful. More rattus rattus then peri peri, they looked strangely mummified, and might have appealed if your name was Baldrick, or you were on death row. They were angrily slam-dunked into the trash afore the opening credits of Mr Mom had even rolled. Tragically, PP’s wings were worse than Paul McCartney’s – and about as welcome as finding a human stool in your bread bin the day after you’ve been burgled.

But what pizza to go with this flick? Erroneously but amusingly figuring Michael Keaton is probably of Italian descent, I opted for the Milano (that’s actually the very pizza in the above picture), which was basically a work experience meat feast, lathered in those strange, frozen veggies that obviously come from a cavernous sack from Iceland. The “Italian crust” was halfway between a thin and medium crust, and was chewy to the point of needing a good tug of the head to bite a slice in half.

It was genuinely an insult to the pizza kingdom, and, at £18 for uno Milano and a margherita for the missus, it was the best advert in Christendom for having Dominos on your speed-dial. Like unfulfilling sex with a semi-drunk ex, it lacked substance, left me feeling strangely empty, and, the next morning as the sad, greasy box haunted me of my foul error, I caught sight of myself in the fridge door and made a hopeful, silent promise to never, ever stray again.


THE FILM: Amazingly, I’m giving it a 7.5 out of ten. Say what you like about Keaton, he’s a pro, and the big-bucks Aaron Spelling production values polished this turd to a mirror finish.

THE PIZZA: Maximum 4/10, and the sides were inedible. Lousy pizza, decent family flick. Life, huh? Ain’t it full of surprises?

Martin perpetually has a lovely bunch of coconuts

Filed under: Guest drops, Movie And A Pizza

Guest blog! Jon Horsley of TV Bite on why one (topping) is the magic number

Pete says: It’s a great pleasure to this week welcome a guest drop from Jon Horsley, the main man behind TV Bite, yet another vastly superior endeavour to my own combining televisual recommendations with recipes. He once took a pop at me for defending Two Pints A Lager And A Packet Of Crisps but we cool now. Jon here elucidates his philosophical support of the one-topping pizza…


I believe it was in popular satirical tome The Mary Whitehouse Experience Encyclopedia where I first saw pizza described as “Posh cheese on toast”*.  Perhaps some of you pizza lovers will bristle at this reductive description, but think on, for cheese on toast it surely is. Pizza is literally based on toast, yes. But what toast! What ambrosial, life-giving cooked baked goods this is. Bouncy, chewy, crunch and charred on the edge**. Fuck you Communion, this is the bread of life. If the pleasure gained from food is one of the things that lifts us above the beasts – animals feed, people eat – then chewing the bread of pizza is to chew on the very essence of human achievement.

Bread is the crucial part of the pizza. It is the foundation from which the meal grows. In existential terms, it is the “being” from Sartre’s Being and Nothingness. We only know it is a pizza because of the bread. Without it, what do we have? An extremely low quality pasta sauce. And if we wanted that, we’d go to a student dinner party, or if you can’t bear the kind of arsehole student who has dinner parties, go to Garfunkel’s and have a salad bar too. The point is, you must focus, when you choose a pizza, on the bread.

Almost certainly the only time Jean-Paul Sartre will appear in this blog

So, we’re agreed. We need bread. What comes next is cheese and tomatoes. This is accepted fact (apart from some marinaras and the odd blanco). We need no more discussion on this. Pizza has evolved to this point after centuries of experimentation, so who are you to say different? You’re no one, that’s who. Shut up. Bread, cheese and tomatoes, the holy trinity of pizza.  Bread, cheese and tomatoes. What next? Here we come to the crux of my post***. Pizza should only have one topping. ONE TOPPING. I say from here on, the blessed pizza eater requires one further ingredient.  One. Un. Uno. Eck. Yi.

This ingredient is the focus. It needs space to breathe. I pass onto you what my grandfather said on his deathbed: “Do not swamp your holy trinity with a meat feast.” Do not adhere frozen vegetables over the base. This is a heinous, horrible mistake. What you must learn is the topping is the icing on the cake, it is not the cake itself. By taking this Buddhist approach to toppings, your meal, nay your life, will become clearer. You will appreciate the bread, cheese and tomatoes so much more. And what of the extra component itself? With room on top, it really breathes. No longer does the humble mushroom exist solely for the purpose of fun guy/funghi or “mushroom/muchroom” hilarity. It’s an earthy partner to the other trio. The anchovy that gave its life to your mouth becomes more than salt. It becomes a small, delicate fish.

Wow, there's not "mushroom" here, is there?

In the words of Spinoza, a philosopher who knew more than a little about pizza****: “The man who overblings his pizza is like the man who really enjoys going to Ikea – a confused cock. Whatsa matter you, eh?” Think of it in terms of great art: How many cock and balls did Michaelangelo sculpt on David? How many Lisas are there depicted in the Mona Lisa? How many heroes in Die Hard? How many lead guitarists in Appetite For Destruction-era Guns N Roses? The answer to these questions is the answer to your topping dilemma. Now, go safely – and go simply.

Likewise, the only time Michaelangelo's David will appear in this blog


* If I recall correctly it was David Baddiel’s entry. The entries were initialled, for some reason and if I recall correctly, this was one of David Baddiel’s though I could be making that up because it’s very much in his “mildly funny in the pub” voice.

** Here I differ from another correspondent on this blog, Rosie***** and her assertion that dirty pizza is the thing you want at home. Dirty pizza is disgusting. Papa John’s is pizza designed and made by people who have read a facsimile of what a pizza is, Dominos is plastic on cardboard and Tops is sick on cardboard.

*** Yes, it’s taken a while. And yes, I did footnotes before I read that Stewart Lee book.

**** Not Baruch Spinoza. Turns out he’s not Italian, he’s Portuguese, so is your go-to guy on bacalao. This is the lesser know, made up philosopher Giuseppe Spinoza.

*****Actually, on this issue I probably disagree with everyone on this blog and everyone reading it. I like the look of Pete And Rosie’s deep dish pizza – but it’s clearly a pie. I am the Hyacinth Bucket of takeaway pizza.

Jon smiled slightly, safe in the knowledge that he was far better than the man whose blog he had just graced


Filed under: Guest drops

Guest blog! Rosie Mullender on the joys of reheated pizza!

Pete says: Hi there! Pete here. One thing I am fond of doing is giving this blog over to writers who are better than I am, like my other half, the esteemed Rosemary Q. Mullender of Billericay, London England. In addition to being vastly my superior, she is also very patient when I behave like a dick too (last night, for example). And here she is now, explaining to you why pizza doesn’t have to be for the night, it can be for the next morning too. Take it away, Good Lady Wife…

Now doesn't that look fancy?

One of my longest-running rows with Mr Mullies, the owner of this illustrious blog, is that he has absolutely no respect for leftover pizza. Place a greasy box of fresh, hot pizza in front of him and he’ll treat it like the tenderest lover: gently plucking a slice from the box, smearing it with unctuous dip then groaning with pleasure as it slides down his gullet. But once he has had his fill and the pizza’s gone cold, he loses interest, leaving the leftovers to roll its eyes and sort itself out while he falls asleep in front of the telly.

It takes a few seconds to put some pizza on a plate and bung it in a fridge. It’s even quicker not to throw out dips that could be used next time Papa John’s forgets them. But Pete just doesn’t see the point of either of these things.

The morning after a pizza binge, I wake up, lick my lips at the thought of a slice of reheated pizza, and run to the kitchen. Then, like the little boy in The Snowman, I’m brought to my knees when I see my pizza, strewn with bacteria-riddled chicken, shrivelled up on the kitchen counter. In this very blog, in fact, Pete describes chucking out half a medium Dominos pizza BECAUSE IT’S GOT MEATBALLS ON IT AND CAN’T BE REHEATED. Like they’re glued on with that stuff in that advert with that man stuck to that aeroplane and can’t simply be plucked off.

Chances are, you’ve had some pretty rotten reheated pizza, and agree that it’s best to just bin it. Which seems crazy to me: half a large takeaway pizza is worth up to £9, and men – who, let’s face it, are the main consumers of pizza – will happily eat month-out-of-date sausages because “they’re the posh ones with bits in.” But if you treat leftover pizza right – seeing to its needs once your own have been satisfied – you can have a delicious meal in minutes. The trick is as follows:

1. When you’ve had your fill, wrap what’s left on a plate in clingfilm and bung it in the fridge. You shouldn’t need to save the dip – after all, you have spares, right?

2. The next day (or even three days later, the longest meat-pizza leftovers will safely keep), congratulate yourself on how clever you are, whack the oven up high, and take the pizza off the plate, allowing it to warm up to room temperature.

3. STOP LOOKING AT THE MICROWAVE. It is not your friend. Ditto the grill or toaster.

3. Put one slice of pizza per person on a middle shelf. Keep your eye on it, and when the crust starts to brown, tuck some foil around it. This will allow the cheese and meat to heat properly without the crust burning.

4. When the cheese is bubbling, pull your pizza off the rack, slide another slice on, and eat your pizza standing nonchalantly at the kitchen counter, possibly swigging from a bottle of Stella Cidre because that’s just the kind of guy you are.

5. Repeat step 4 until everything is gone. Yummers!

Of course, you can always eat your pizza cold, which is also nice, as long as you let it warm up a bit first – otherwise it’s way too chewy. Or, if you made your own pizza instead of ordering in, you can make the magnificent breakfast pizza with the leftovers. Bon appétit!

The author with two of her many celebrity lovers


Filed under: Guest drops

Alright, stop… Glamour time! Top models nominate their favourite pizzas

The world of pizza is not necessarily one that is synonymous with glamour, although I like to think that this blog, with its gleaming guest stars and bright colours, goes some way towards adding a touch of glitter to the mix, like sprinkling gold dust upon your quattro formaggio. Well, this is most definitely the most glamorous of all my posts, and indeed all pizza blog posts ever, being as it is me posing the question, “What is your favourite pizza and why?” to some of the UK’s top glamour models. I am full aware that I will be accused of favouritism after all this, but I can only report my findings as they were told to me. Don’t worry, the following is entirely suitable for work – those of you who are looking for hot nude sex action can find some by clicking here.


Kelly Hall

“Dominos Stuffed Crust, with half Mighty Meaty and half Meateor. What else would you want on a pizza? Best of both worlds!”


Rosie Jones

“My favourite pizza is a Dominos large Meat Feast with stuffed crust because it’s the most topping-crammed pizza, with lots of dips of course! Unless I’m feeling particularly posh then I go for Pizza Express with garlic dough balls.”


Clare Richards

“Dominos Meat Feast. How anyone can be a veggie I do not know…”


Sophie Howard

“Dominos Pepperoni Passion with a BBQ base, just because its’ totally hot!”


Emma Glover

“Dominos Stuffed Crust, Half and Half as I’m too indecisive to choose one. One half is Meat Feast and the other is Hawaiian.”


India Reynolds

“Dominos create your own with sweetcorn and pineapple. Yes, I’m weird.”


Stacey Massey

“Spicy all the way! Probably something with spicy beef and jalepenos.”


Poppy Woods

“Meat Feast with the stuffed edge from Pizza Hut, because it’s fit!”


Lindsey Strutt

“Definitely Dominos Meat Feast with all the trimmings – onion, pepper, mushrooms. That way you’re getting your meat and veg! There should also be a garlic dip.”

And there you have it. What conclusions can we draw from all this? Mainly that our finest glamour lovelies sure do love a Dominos, but that Pizza Hut can draw some consolation from the fact that they are “fit.” And isn’t that what we are all aiming for, at the end of the day?

Filed under: Guest drops, Weird stuff from the pizza world

Special guest Blog! Rosie Mullender’s Five Rules Of Takeaway Pizza

It’s special guest time again! This time taking her first 12 Inch Pete Treat bow is Ms Rosie Mullender, who, in addition to composing a burrito blog that is far and away superior to this shoddy little effort, also happens to be the other, attractive half of the hottest couple in gastro-bloggery, me being the other 50%. She has a love of pizza that supercedes even my own, and so I asked her if she would do a guest drop for me. And she said yes, which is good news for those of you who value things like proper sentences and jokes that work. Here, then, are Rosie’s 5 Commandments Of Takeaway Pizza.

“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. So avoid the garlic dip.”

You’re at home, you fancy a pizza, you reach for the phone… stop right there, my friend! In fact, HOLD THE PHONE (haha!)! Don’t make another move until you’ve read this, my indispensible guide to ordering takeaway pizza. I have 12 long years’ experience in the field and read pizza menus in bed for kicks, so don’t argue.

Simply not acceptable

If you fancy posh pizza, go out. If you’re eating pizza in a restaurant, you probably want something posh and stone-baked, probably with rocket and bresaola and crap like that on top. At home, you should order what is commonly dubbed “dirty” pizza – a thick-crusted, fatty, gloopy mess which comes in at around 2,500 calories and offers as toppings such unholy delights as Chicken Tikka and BBQ Sauce. Lots of people order stone-baked pizzas to eat at home, but these people are wrong. If you want posh pizza, make your own. Sorry, Firezza lovers, but there it is.

Do not fear me, for I am good...

Every pizza has its place. You may sneer at your local non-branded pizza palace – the Kwik Save of pizza joints, which offers fried chicken alongside the pizza. But £20 is a lot to pay for what is basically some clogged arteries looming large in your future, placed in a cardboard box. Plus, if you’re reading this blog, you probably need to start saving now for all the enormous trousers you’ll be buying later on. This is where the humble Local Dirty Pizza Emporium comes in handy. You’ll spend most of the meal going, ‘It’s not that bad, actually, is it?’ and discarding any unidentifiable toppings (“Is that…is it…hoof?”). But you can get a pizza the size of a bus for about £8.99 – hooray!

If you’ve ordered pizza from a delivery giant, don’t bother complaining. The first rule of delivering pizza is that they’ll ALWAYS get at least one element of your order wrong. A good idea is to run a sweepstake – if you gamble on the thing you care about most, at least you’ll be rewarded with some kind of compensation. Otherwise, unless you have Sisyphean patience, compensation will be hard to come by. In my experience, Certain Franchises Who Shall Remain Nameless don’t care if their clientele spend the night tweeting head office, “I H8 YOU!!!!!! WHERE IS MY PIZZA??!!!” In my long, painful experience, they generally have a “meh” attitude to customer complaints which means it isn’t worth bothering. The one time I actually bothered to pursue a complaint, it took 20 minutes of badgering before they started crying and sent me what I’d actually ordered. By which time my hand was a wizened claw and I wished cheese had never been invented.

Dips are everything. I’m fanatical about dips, even though nine times out of ten your local pizza entrepreneur will forget them, like they DON’T EVEN MATTER (“no dips” is an excellent choice in the What Will They Get Wrong? sweepstake mentioned above. It’s pretty much a shoo-in). I now order a few of my favourites whenever I get a pizza, so I have some spares in the cupboard, plus they’re also good for using with leftovers. Although Papa John’s pizza sauce dip is both fresh, thus storage-unfriendly, and the most regularly-forgotten dip. THEY’VE THOUGHT OF EVERYTHING, THE SWINES.

Dips: NOT interchangeable

Dips are NOT interchangeable. Papa John’s have forgotten your honey and mustard dip (although this has won you a crisp fiver – good work, soldier). “Ah,” you may muse. “I will just use the Dominos honey and mustard dip which, on Rosie’s advice, is lurking in my cupboard.” STOP RIGHT THERE. The sweet dough of Papa John’s does NOT go with the tartness of the Dominos dip. The same goes for garlic dip, buffalo dip, and any other dip you may care to order. Dips from the Big Three (Pizza Hut, Dominos and Papa John’s) only tend to suit the pizzas they’re made for. Except BBQ sauce – I’ve even been known to dig a McDonald’s one out of the back of the cupboard and use that. Weird.

So there you have it. Go forth, and order with pride and confidence – and if any of you wail about how good your local stone-baked pizza delivery place is, I will stick my fingers in my ears, so don’t even bother.

You can follow Rosie at twitter.com/mullies although, frankly, she does not need the followers.

In exchange for her guest blog, Rosie was given these pretty flowers

Filed under: Guest drops

Guest drop #1: Buddy’s Pizza of Detroit!

Buddy's Pizza, back in the early days

From the ridiculous to the sublime. Yesterday: an absurd anecdote about the innate silliness of porn. Today: a pizza recipe from a genuine legend of American pizza.

One of the great things that has resulted from this blog in its first week of existence is that I am being followed (and more incredibly, actually read and listened to) by some top American pizzerias, which is kind of like Grandmaster Flash suddenly taking an interest in a random teenage bedroom DJ. Well, I simply had to ask them if any of them if they’d be willing to do a guest drop, and blow me if Buddy’s Pizza of Detroit, makers of the world-renowned Detroit original square pie, didn’t agree to give us a guest recipe! Incredible.

All rise for the branding

So now I’m going to hand over to Wes Pikula, vice president of operation for Buddy’s Pizza, to explain How To Make A Detroit-style Pie At Home…

Here in the states, it’s important to note that the battle for pizza lovers’ attention goes beyond famed New York or Chicago style pies. Detroit originated the square-shaped deep dish crust – and it all started at Buddy’s Pizza.

Our family-owned pizzeria  has a long history in the city. Our original Detroit location opened as a blind pig in 1936 and was transformed into a legitimate tavern in 1946, when Sicilian style pizza was added to the menu. At Buddy’s Pizza we’ve been dishing out our Detroit original square pie recipe for 65 years.

The Buddy's speciality in all its square, pipping hot glory. Yeah, I KNOW!

How did we do it? The secret to that signature shape is in the pan itself. Our pizza pans reflect our Motor City heritage. They were originally used to hold nuts and bolts in Detroit’s automotive factories. We use forged steel pans made by Dover Parkersburg, a company that dates back to 1833. It may be one of the secret ingredients to our success.

But there are others. We use what’s called a lean dough to make our 2-3 inch thick pizza crust. There is no oil or sugar added. And we proof it, or let it sit at room temperature for 1-2 hours until it rises, before it hits the oven. Unlike most pizzas, you’ll find our signature sauce on top of the cheese, not below it. We also use brick cheese, which adds to the taste.

English people! This is what brick cheese looks like!

If you’re curious, it’s possible to re-create the Detroit square pizza at home. Here’s how:

Step 1: Start with an authentic black steel square pan, 10 inches by 14 inches with 2 ¾ inch sides. Season the pan by coating the inside with vegetable oil and burn it in a 600 degree oven for 8-10 minutes. Wipe off any residue left in the pan after burning it.

Step 2: Make a lean dough – don’t use oil or sugar. Weigh the dough into 10-16 ounce portions depending on your preference and roll each portion into a round ball.

Step 3: Place the dough ball in the square pan and press evenly until it covers the complete bottom of the pan completely, making sure that the sides are slightly pushed up around the perimeter.

Step 4: Spread shredded or ground brick cheese on the dough. Proof the cheesed pizza at room temperature for 1-2 hours, depending on preference.

Step 5: Lightly sauce the pizza, on top of the cheese (not on the dough as traditional pizzas are usually made). Place pizza in a pre-heated oven at 450 degrees and bake to desired doneness. It will take approximately 20-30 minutes.

Step 6: Remove the pizza from the oven. Take a spatula and run along the inside of the pan to loosen the pizza from the sides.  Lift pizza out of the pan and cut to desired size pieces and serve. Enjoy!”

Okay, I think it’s fair to say that this is now a serious pizza blog. My thanks to all at Buddy’s – I resolve to come and visit just as soon as I can. All that remains is for me to remind you all that, for those who’d like to order a Buddy’s Pizza, the family-owned pizzeria does ship anywhere. Call 001-313-892-9001 or check them out at buddyspizza.com or on Facebook or Twitter. A final, big thank you to Wes Pikula and Stephanie Casola, who made this possible, and for the magnificent phrase “desired doneness” which I am going to have printed on a T-shirt ASAP.

Filed under: Guest drops, How to...