Homemade pizza: just add water, flour, salt, yeast--and fairy dust? How you can make magic happen...

I’ve always tried to let people know that making pizza is not magic. It’s just water, flour, salt and yeast.
 
Have I been wrong all these years?
 
Does pizza actually require magic?
 
Last week, I was in France talking to a career chef who started making wood-fired pizza a little over a year ago. Our pizza conversation meandered to that place where I begin using the F-word.

And as silly as the conversation gets, it belies an important quality of pizza that is beyond your control--yet important to grasp. (Don't worry, we will not begin speaking in Zen koans, Grasshopper.) 
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I said to Chef, “There’s something about pizza that is fascinating.

Chef replied, “Yeah.”
 
“You agree with that?”
 
“Definitely. Yeah.”
 
“And you're fascinated by it?”
 
“Absolutely.”
 
 
I said, “Alright. I have a theory. I could be wrong.”
 
And I proceeded to repeat my harebrained theory that the reason why pizza is fascinating, and the reason why people keep doing it, is the simple fact that every pizza is a transformation.
 
Transformation itself is fascinating. And by making pizza, each of us is transforming benign ingredients—water, flour, salt and yeast—into something completely different and fantastic.
 
And then, of course, there are all the things we put on top of pizza—most important among them cheese and tomato.
 
We’ve got a transformed product of fresh, hot, caramelized bread and cheese and tomato and fat and salt and when we eat that pizza, the taste ignites a crazy, dopamine-fueled rush of joy like no other food.
 
I said, “So. Transformation. What do you think?”
 
Chef looked at me and said...
 
 
“You pretty much nailed that.”
 
Then he added, “For me, when it comes to nearly the end of the dough-making process, out of the rising process and you're balling up the dough, at that point, the transformation for me is nearly there.
 
“At that point you can tell whether the transformation’s successful. And for me it's the reaction of the yeast.”
 
I should probably add here that Chef is using fresh yeast, something most of us amateurs never do. It’s hard to find, it’s hard to keep, and it’s expensive.
 
It also means that he’s going through a process that’s different than what you and I are doing when we perform a direct leaven with a dried yeast product.
 
Anyway, here’s where the conversation began to get interesting.
 
 
Our chef friend says, “The yeast is kind of like a little child. And I’m probably overthinking it.
 
“But the way I treat the yeast, and make sure the container's clean, and the water's as pure as I can get it through a double filter, things like that—they're the little, tiny increments that people miss.
 
“I think keeping things clean can make such a difference, and whether the water's the right temperature.
 
“That’s the magic of the transformation for me, the way that yeast reacts through flour and sugar. These are just things you find in the cupboard. Add a little bit of yeast and then it makes this amazing thing that's magical, really.
 
 
“As humans, with whatever you’re cooking, you can only do 80% of it. The other 20% is magic. Do you know what I mean?”
 
I laughed and said, “I love that. ‘You can only do 80%, the other 20% is magic.’ I think I believe that.”
 
“Yeah, it is magic. I think that's what it is, and you keep doing it.
 
“And also, if you've got that perfectionist streak, definitely, it's addictive.” (Note: the emphasis here is not added. He hit the word “addictive” like he means it.)
 
“And It's never perfect. So you keep going back to do it again. And it's almost perfect.
 
“It's like golf.
 
What?
 
 
Yes, we’re talking about making pizza. Chef said “Golf.”
 
This is where the real laughter begins.
 
Chef continues, “I would say playing golf and making pizza are definitely the same thing.
 
“You never hit that perfect shot. I mean, I don’t play so much now. I don't really have the time. But when I play now, I think, ‘Why did I ever play this game? It's awful!’
 
“But then, you'll hit that one shot and you think, ‘Ah, I'll just come back next time because I hit that one shot. I’ll hit two next time.’ It's just the way you hit them, it's hard to describe.
 
“But it’s the same with pizza.
 
 
“I mean, I'm sure if you're not kind of perfectionist orientated, you might not feel that way. I don't know. But there's always something for me that can be improved.”
 
How can I disagree? I get it 100%. That striving for a “perfect” pizza is the kind of thing that keeps me coming back.
 
It doesn’t matter how right you get it each time you make a pizza.
 
There’s always something that can be improved.
 
And by Chef's reckoning, you can do only 80%. The other 20% is magic.
 
 
I suppose this also depends on how you define magic.
 
But in some ways, magic is probably like luck. You make your own.
 
If you continue improving your methods at pizza making, you continue giving the dough every opportunity to live the best life it can.
 
Yes, I said you give the dough every opportunity to live the best life it can. That’s because the dough you’ve made is a living thing. Yeast are in there getting busy, eating up sugar and belching out carbon dioxide.
 
Dough is your best friend in making pizza.  
 
You give that dough every opportunity to be the best it can be, and you know what happens?
 
It’s just like making your own luck.
 
You’re making your own magic.
 
 
And for me, the easiest magic to make comes with cold fermenting your dough.
 
Use less yeast, let the dough ferment in the fridge at least 48 hours (I prefer 72), and the complex flavors of the resulting pizza crust are the magic you enable.
 
Same-day dough will never cause excitement for your diners the way a fermented dough does.
 
When making pizza, magic happens...

If you let it.

​Special thanks to Chef Joss Roper of Domaine de Cromey in Saint-Sernin-du-Plain in the Burgundy region of France for the scintillating conversation.
 
Just a warning: We’ll be visiting with Chef Joss again.
 
When that happens, we’ll be making pizza in a 500-year old wood-fired oven.
 
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You don’t need special, magical incantations or a wood-fired oven (old or new) to begin making great pizza. You'll find all the simple steps to magic right inside my weird and award-winning pizzamaker’s manual, Free The Pizza: A Simple System For Making Great Pizza Whenever You Want With The Oven You Already Have. If you’re just beginning your pizza-making journey, this book is a convenient place to start because it doesn’t force you to make any decisions beyond making a pizza. It’s simply a step-by-step guide for getting from zero to pizza and amazing your friends and family. And really, yourself as well. That first fabulous pizza is a glorious moment. And you'll have your own story of "My First Pizza." Learn more right here. ​