Visha did the honors of rolling out the pizza dough that I had prepared Sunday morning for a successful launch of my home pizza-making enterprise. The crust was heavenly—thin and nutty, the filling of Mozarella, tomatoes, and fresh basil leaves just right. We ate it hot out of the oven, with a salad of fresh greens from the deck garden with a simple balsamic vinegar-olive oil dressing.
Yesterday I rolled out my own pizza, this time adding strips of Prosciutto and more fresh chili. I overloaded it with seeded tomato, even adding a few Kalamata olives. It was not as good. Sunday's pizza was thinner like Neapolitan pizzas. I ignored everyone I consulted who urged a thin crust for the best Margherita and rued my disobedience. The center of my pizza was thick, like bread, or, I guess, like Sicilian pizza and I missed the crunch and flavor of Sunday's pizza.
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