 It’s frustrating when a foodie food trend makes me look like some kind of Gianni Come Lately trying to influence my homemade pizza friends into doing silly things. And by some measures, mortadella is silly. It’s Oscar Mayer bologna dotted with inexplicable white chunks, right? Who would ever think about putting it on a pizza? The truth: mortadella is a high-end Italian delicacy. And in some ways, imported mortadella is the Absinthe of charcuterie: banned from US import for no good reason beyond a lame excuse. There was an outbreak of African swine fever in Italy in 1967. It took almost 40 years for mortadella import normalcy to return. And now, there’s a mortadella renaissance happening in the US, fueled by celebrity chefdom. But that’s not my deal. I’m talking mortadella because it’s a good idea that you might want to try, too. Mortadella is really tasty on pizza.
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 Oven mystique attracts novice pizzamakers like a candle flame attracts moths wearing little chef hats. There are big, wood-fired Neapolitan-style ovens for "authentic wood-fired flavor." Little pellet-fired ovens “make a pizza in a minute!” Gas-fired outdoor ovens. Gas-grill oven inserts. Countertop electric ovens. Somebody just told me how excited he was to be replacing his standard electric range with a gas range for the improved pizza making potential. Really? Pizza oven manufacturers often sell the romance of fuel, speed, ease, authenticity or convenience. Home pizza makers perceive all kinds of sexy options for pizza-oven nirvana. Here’s the unsexy reality about all this: At the very beginning, your homemade pizza success is not about buying another oven—it’s about understanding the oven you’ve bought, even if it’s the oven that came with your house.  It’s his favorite pizza. His wife loves it, too. For years, they’ve been telling me I have to go there. And after always driving past the joint at times when it’s closed or when there’s no time to stop—we had the window. Mission Control finally allowed that we could get there without being hurled out of Earth’s orbit on an irreversible course bound for the Galilean moons of Jupiter. So we exited I-95 into Central New Jersey, drove into town, parked the car, walked inside, sat in the booth, ordered the world-famous pizza, and we waited. Then it arrived. How was that pizza? After all, That Famous Pizza Guy gave it one of his highest scores ever. Well, it was surprising. It was a letdown. It was unexpected joy. It was great. We loved it. It was an emotional roller coaster ride that demonstrates the real problem with The Best Pizza: there is no such thing and there’s a good chance you will always be disappointed—at least for a moment.  I’m riding up in the hotel elevator with a woman who’s carrying a flat, white box that says, “Stoner’s Pizza Joint.” I ask her if the pizza was any good. She smiles. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried it yet. I just had it delivered.” I mistakenly assumed she was coming from dinner with her leftovers. And I say, “Well, it might be pretty good. Who knows pizza better than a stoner?” She laughs. “Exactly what I thought!” What I don’t say is that Stoner’s is a franchise operation with about 50 outlets nationwide, mainly in the east. I’m guessing the pizza is probably good but not great. It's been steaming inside that box for a while, so it's probably soggy. I don’t eat much delivery pizza. I have a simple system and can make a far better pizza at home with minimal hassle. But...why would I piss on her pizza? It’s so antisocial--and so social normal.  You are here at Free The Pizza because you buck trends and fly in the face of convention. And from the reviews and emails I receive, it’s clear that you are on board with the whole low-level kitchen iconoclast thing that goes on here. You are a special human being. How does one not love this homemade pizza thing? All kinds of pizza lovers gravitate here. Male and female, working pros and retirees, hippies and military officers, artists and musicians, airline pilots and architects. From New Hampshire to Hawaii and uncountable places in between, there is one common denominator: You are a Pizza Independent. |
AuthorBlaine Parker is the award-winning author of the bestselling, unusual and amusing how-to pizza book, Free The Pizza. Also known as The Pizza Geek and "Hey, Pizza Man!", Blaine is fanatical about the idea that true, pro-quality pizza can be made at home. His home. Your home. Anyone's home. After 20 years of honing his craft and making pizza in standard consumer ovens across the nation, he's sharing what he's learned with home cooks like you. Are you ready to pizza? Archives
November 2025
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