It was the season of sauce, it was the season of toppings. It was the spring of onions, it was the sausage of despair. We had pies before us, we had crusts before us.

No lesser authority than The New York Times says artisanal pizza is on the rise. Just last week, the Gray Lady blew the trend up, making a case for the elegantly appointed pizzeria as a cost-conscious diner's best bet amid rotten economic circumstances. In San Francisco, this sub-genre of the pizza form is currently encroaching on the Mission District's once-fior di latte-less expanse with great success. Pizzeria Delfina and Beretta are delicious examples of what's sizzling in Burritoland, though only the former would probably describe itself as a pizzeria first and foremost. Flour + Water just opened on Harrison in the last few months, serving pasta, salumi, and a familiar stripe of 'za: smallish, thin-crusted rounds decked out in classic and occasionally inventive combinations of toppings with a traditional bent and heavy, local-centric nods to seasonality. As if that weren't enough upscale crust and cheese to blanket a few square miles of coveted real estate, Pi Bar will soon start slinging (whole pies and cheese slices for, ha ha, $3.14) on Valencia near 25th, at a renovated space once home to Suriya Thai.

You might not have heard, but in Fall of 2008, Pizzeria opened its doors on a humming stretch of Valencia Street, not far from its intersection with 18th. As of press time, the establishment has garnered 45 reviews on Yelp, most of them quite positive. Yet, for all the times I've wandered past its wide windows, I've never seen a customer populating one of the dining room's handsome circular wooden tables. I've stared at the menu. I've contemplated the helpful photographs of Pizzeria's offerings pasted to the front window. I've watched cooks bustle, a waiter mop, and a manager meticulously refill and reposition jars of red pepper flakes on the long counter, but, never, not once, have I witnessed a person, sitting down, napkin on lap, actually tucking into a plate of anything.

And I've always wondered why. Location could not be the problem. Valencia is a major thoroughfare for night-time revelers and day-time shoppers. The product itself is not immediately suspect either. It's pizza, after all; everyone likes it. Unlike Beretta and Flour + Water, and to a lesser extent, Pizzeria Delfina, purveyors of an ostensibly fancier kind of pizza, the vibe is not glamorous. Apart from the wood oven used to bake them, the wares are not authentic but fairly pan-pizza in approach, though, in this age of hyper-fusion frenzy, that shouldn't deter the masses. You won't find habaneros, chicken tikka masala, or barbecue on pizza in Naples, but, these days, in the United States, thanks perhaps to the influence of California Pizza Kitchen, they're not exactly unusual toppings, and perfectly appropriate in the right context.

Pizzeria is also Halal. The pig is on a big muddy pedastal these days, and there's a chance the absence of house-cured prosciutto, guanciale, and an occasional trotter special throws potential customers off the scent. In addition, Pizzeria sells no alcohol. One Yelper reports brown-bagging some brew, but the restaurant doesn't specifically recommend doing so. Unless you're willing to ask and perhaps plead, the closest thing to a dinner buzz or a perfect pairing you'll get here will have to come in the form of a $2.50 soda. For many, this will prove a bigger sticking point than the pancetta non grata situation.

Could cost be the issue? Probably not, though, as far as pizza goes, Pizzeria's is not particularly inexpensive. In fact, its pizza margherita costs a dollar more than a similarly sized version made by Flour + Water, when the ingredients are obviously the same: tomatoes, fresh basil, mozzarella, and olive oil.

Generally speaking, when a restaurant's always empty, no passer-by wants to play guinea pig. Delivery customers write the majority of Pizzeria's Yelp reviews, and they tend to gush about speedy delivery and the endearing customer service, signs a few people have been curious enough to phone in orders, and the business owners are working hard to amass devotees, one at a time if necessary. Pizzeria is not open for lunch, which seems like a curious choice to make, especially if the owners want bodies in the dining room. Walk-in customers are more likely at lunch-time, especially on the weekends, when weary shoppers from other parts of town, quivering beneath the weight of new purchases, and stoned folks staggering in from Dolores Park make impulsive dining decisions based on whatever is in front of them.

Unlike Pizzeria, Flour + Water, the sort of sleek, self-styled "neighborhood" restaurant that employs a publicist, has been hot. A dozen local press mentions and reviews popped up within days of its opening, many before, and over 118 reviewers have since weighed in, many charmed by the food, a number irritated by the crowds and clientele, and more than a few disparaging of the hosts' demeanor. No one likes a line, and Flour + Water's perpetually snakes out the door like links of runaway sausages. In shaping their doughy vision, the heads behind Flour + Water actually followed a pizza principle not unlike what was outlined in the Times piece, figuring rustic fare in a lovely dark wood-enhanced setting might rake in diners trying to scale back on spending without sacrificing the level of ambience regular restaurant-goers tend to favor. According to Flour + Water's website, the restaurant's design and construction "are all about the mantra of the triple r: refurbished, repurposed and reclaimed," a triptych of buzzwords pretty much designed to make people feel as if they're sitting down to something real, hip, and happening, yet non-indulgent, and even -- gasp -- responsible.

Pizzeria and Flour + Water don't serve the same kind of pizza, so reviewing them in tandem wouldn't make sense. I'm interested in why one restaurant is full, and the other is empty. Does the press machine get behind whatever they're told to get behind by whomever gets to decide what should be gotten behind? Is herd mentality a lot of what's keeping Flour + Water packed tighter than a jar of oil-cured anchovies and Pizzeria as forlorn and lonely as a marinara-deprived breadstick? Does a Halal pizzeria without a pizzaiolo or a publicist stand a chance in this city?

On Saturday, I decided to seize the pizza by the box and give Pizzeria a real shot. At 5:15 p.m., I slowly and deliberately walked up to the door. I looked in through the smudged glass. I couldn't do it. The prospect of being the only person in the place stressed me out. A lopsided ratio of cooks to customers makes for awkward dining, a rigid, uncomfortable experience, like at a show, when a band dwarfs the crowd. I turned tail and scurried back to my apartment where, furious with my lack of courage, yet quite relieved, I immediately dialed in an order for delivery: a $12 small "Popeye" pizza (baby spinach, slow-roasted garlic, and red onion) to which I, for an extra buck, boldly added beef pepperoni. Minutes later, Pizzeria's pizza and I were face-to-face.

The mystery was over. The crust's bottom was black and blistery; the gnarled sides and top were beautiful, rutted in all the right places, tunnels of taste within, perfect pockets of air crunching, wafer-like, between teeth. The toppings were fine. I liked the cheese. The sauce was unmemorable. The thick slices of raw red onion didn't do much for me. I prefer them cooked, semi-pickled, or, if raw, very, very, very thinly slivered. The beef pepperoni didn't taste weird until I tried it cold on Sunday morning. Overall, Pizzeria makes a really good pizza in keeping with its intent: flavorful, timely, unpretentious, and very pizza-like. Everyone should go there ... or at least get something delivered.

Until a few years ago, I always preferred the pizza from my native state of New York to anything I found in California. The pizza in North County San Diego, where I grew up, was inedible as far as my family was concerned, so we always made our pizza at home. My mother's pizzas were unparalleled by anything we could get at a local pizzeria -- thick crust with a tangy tomato sauce laced with anchovies and black olives. When I moved to San Francisco years ago, I loved that I could finally buy a decent pizza. Right now, Oliveto, Pizzaiolo, and Dopo are my East Bay neighborhood favorites, with Pizzeria Delifina taking the gold medal for my all-around favorite local pie. Yet although these restaurants and many others offer wonderful Roma and Neopolitan-style pizzas, I still often make my own pies at home, especially now that I've discovered grilled pizza.

Yes, I am now grilling my pizzas. This may sound odd, but using your grill actually makes more sense than baking your pizza in an oven. Although people will disagree about toppings -- sauce or fresh tomatoes? Anchovies or plain cheese? -- it is universally known that you need a very hot oven to make a great crust. A home oven only reaches a max of 500 or, if you're lucky, 550 degrees, while most grills get up to 600 degrees or hotter (mine gets up to 650 degrees). You'll never replicate the intense radiant heat from a professional pizzeria oven at home, but using a barbecue grill will get you pretty close. Used with a pizza stone, your backyard grill becomes the perfect home pizza oven.

I also have a new dough recipe which is worth mentioning. I used to make my pizza dough the old fashioned way, kneading it by hand and then letting it rise in a bowl. But I recently tried a recipe from the New York Times Sunday Magazine and loved it. This recipe lets the paddle on your mixer do all the kneading, so it's quick to make and pretty mess free. If you don't have a stand mixer, you can still knead the dough, but if you do have one, this recipe is so easy there's no reason to ever buy pre-made dough again. Best of all, the final result is a moist pizza dough that crusts beautifully.

My new homemade pizza of choice is one made with wilted arugula, prosciutto, and Brie cheese. I love how the earthy and slightly peppery arugula tastes with the salty pork and oozy puddles of buttery cheese. It's truly a match made in pizza heaven.

Why make your own pizza?
1. Homemade pizza is much less expensive than restaurant pizza, especially for a family of four. When I buy two pies at a local restaurant, I often spend over $40, but making two larger pizzas at home usually runs under $20 (and if I use only cheese, basil and tomatoes, I spend less than $10).

2. Making pizza is a great way to get your kids involved in the cooking process. My kids love to make and stretch dough, and slather toppings on their own pizzas. They take great pride in their finished pies and usually lick the plate clean.

3. Pizza night is just way more fun when everyone gets sticky dough on their hands.

Tips for baking a pizza on a grill:
1. Preheat the grill with the door closed at the highest possible setting.

2. Place the pizza stone on the grill before you turn on the heat or the stone will crack.

3. If you don't have a peel, buy one. Pizza peels are a necessary investment if you don't want to burn yourself.

4. Make sure your pizza peel is nicely floured before laying down the dough as you want the pizza to easily slide off. If the dough sticks to the peel, your toppings will fall onto the stone while your pizza stays on the peel. Before you try to slide the pizza onto your hot stone, give the peel a jiggle. If the pizza moves, you're in good shape. If it seems stuck, carefully lift the edges of the dough and flick some flour underneath until you get some movement.

5. If you accidentally slide the pizza halfway off the stone, you can let it cook for a couple minutes and then the dough will be hard enough for you to pull it all back onto the stone without any permanent damage.

6. Your pizza will bake in 5-7 minutes on the grill, so be careful not to leave it on too long.

7. Always keep the grill closed when baking your pies

8. When checking for doneness, lift the pizza off the stone a bit to see if the bottom is getting too crisp. On a grill, the hot air doesn't circulate but instead radiates upward so you can easily burn your crust if you're not careful.

9. If using a gas grill, you may need to turn the heat down after cooking more than a couple of pizzas to avoid burning the dough.

Arugula, Prosciutto, and Brie Cheese Pizza

Makes: 1 pizza

Ingredients:
1 pound pizza dough (half of the NY Times Magazine recipe) already risen and then refrigerated for at least a half hour
2 cups fresh arugula
2 cloves of garlic smashed and chopped
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped prosciutto
6 oz Brie (about a half-wedge) cut into ½ slices

Preparation:
1. Heat your grill with your pizza stone inside. For gas grills, heat on high for about 10 minutes. For charcoal grills, heat coals until white hot

2. While grill is warming, heat a large pan on medium-high on your stove top. When pan is hot, add 2 Tbsp olive oil, garlic and arugula and mix. Turn off heat and cover for 3-5 minutes, or until arugula is wilted.

3. Flour a solid surface, such as a stone or wooden counter top or large cutting board, and shape your pizza. You can stretch the dough or use a rolling pin to shape it into a 12 to 14-inch round.

4. Place dough on a floured pizza peel and drizzle the dough with remaining olive oil. Evenly sprinkle the arugula and prosciutto on top and then add the Brie slices. Dust the top with a dash of sea salt.

5. Jiggle the dough on the pizza peel to make sure it's mobile and then place on top of the now hot pizza stone. Cover your grill and cook for 5-7 minutes or until the bottom of the crust is crisp and the top is lightly browned.

6. Slice and serve.

Eduardo Morrell

It's muddy, it's rainy, it's cold...so what better way to come together on a wet winter weekend than in celebration of a big wood-burning oven? The Headlands Center for the Arts is hosting Brick Oven Lovin' Again, a night of dinner and music on Saturday, February 21st, at 6pm. All donations go towards recouping the costs of renovating the center's massive wood-burning brick oven.

The benefit is the brainchild of Eduardo Morrell of Morrell Breads, who bakes all his naturally leavened hearth breads in the center's oven. For the last 8 years, Morrell has been baking breads for both the center and the Berkeley Farmers' Market, using the oven created by master oven-builder Alan Scott. While a separate memorial is planned for March, the benefit will also honor the life's work of Scott, who passed away in his native Australia on Jan. 26, 2009, at the age of 72. It will be a locavore's delight, with a focus on the produce & meats donated by Morrell’s fellow Berkeley market vendors, including Happy Boy Farms, Pomo Tierra Orchards, Happy Girl, Highland Hills Meats, Full Belly Farm, Riverdog Farm, and more.

Photo by Christina Z. Libertini

Served family-style in the arts center's dining room will be caramelized-onion and margherita pizzas, grass-fed beef stew, wheat-berry pilaf (made from Full Belly wheat), squash and citrus salad, sauteed kale and miso, green salad with goat cheese and apples, breads, pickles, spreads, and more, followed by apple crisp and chocolate ganache tart. In the kitchen will be alums from both Millennium Restaurant and the Headlands kitchen, including Morrell, Vince Peterson, Stephanie Hibbert and Ari Derfel. Playing jazz after dinner will be John Ingle (sax), Lisa Mezzacappa (bass), and Kjell Nordeson (drums).

Photo by Christina Z. Libertini

But what's so special about this oven? Built 17 years ago, the oven was part of Scott's first generation of quality ovens. It worked, but it wasn't perfect, something Scott freely admitted as he became the Bay Area's foremost authority on hand-built, wood-burning brick ovens. So, last year, under Morrell's supervision, the oven got a full revamp, preserving the decorative elements created by Scott along with the concrete foundation but installing all new insulation and firebrick. Scott's own apprentice, Quill Chase did the work. Now, says Morrell, it's much more efficient, using less wood, heating evenly, and holding temperature throughout hours of baking. It's an oven that honors Scott's work as it continues to feed another generation of artists and Bay Area bread lovers.

Headlands Center for the Arts, 944 Fort Barry, Sausalito, CA 94965. Saturday, February 21st. Dinner at 6:30pm, music at 8:30pm. A donation of $50/per person is requested for dinner and concert (children 7-13 $10 each; under 7 free); $15 donation for concert only. [ Map ]

Attendees are asked to RSVP online for the dinner. For directions and additional information, go to Headlands Center for the Arts.

I've lived near Fillmore and Sacramento in San Francisco for about six years. There are benefits to spending so much time in an area -- I know exactly where to shop, where to drop off my dry cleaning, and when the neighborhood Victorian gets a new paint job. But there are also frustrations -- shops and restaurants can bore me after a while. Don't get me wrong -- I love sitting at the bar at Florio when I'm feeling flush, and think that Ten-Ichi is a good neighborhood sushi place, but I was getting tired of the same old scene.

Things started to change on Fillmore last year when SPQR opened. The great food by the A16 group meant that Fillmore Street was becoming a destination for people who wanted to try A16's Roman counterpart. The hour-long waits and no-reservations policy of SPQR mean that people are often milling about outside, and the energy of the street has changed. A wine bar called Wine Jar has even opened up across the street and has been referred to as "the SPQR waiting room."

But one restaurant is not enough to sustain this food lover. That's why I've been so excited about the other changes in the area as well.

Two weeks ago, Pizzeria Delfina opened on California Street at Fillmore. It's the second pizzeria for the folks at Delfina in the Mission, and the pizza that I had on the second night they were open is as good as that at the 18th street restaurant. The spot is bigger than 18th street, and is already quite crowded. I'm loving the house wine they have on tap -- Segromigno from Unti Vineyards -- and the reasonable price of all the wines-by-the-glass.

Later this year, we are looking forward to a couple more additions to Fillmore Street. Dosa will be opening on the corner of Fillmore and Post, in the old Goodwill store. I've been peeking through the windows for months, and Eater has some photos of the design. Also, Woodhouse Fish Company is redesigning the space where Toraya was located, across the street from SPQR, and should be open within the next few months. Finally, we've been waiting about a year for our installation of Charles Phan's Out the Door to arrive on Bush street at Fillmore. Word is that may be a bit longer as Phan is busy with other projects around town.

You'll notice that all the restaurants mentioned above are not original -- most are the second or third outpost for already successful restaurants around town. But at the moment, I will take what I can get and am looking forward to a much improved dining scene on Fillmore street in my immediate future.

SPQR
1911 Fillmore Street (at Bush)
San Francisco
415-771-7779

Pizzeria Delfina
2406 California Street (at Fillmore)
San Francisco
415-437-6800

Wine Jar
1870 Fillmore Street (at Bush)
San Francisco
415-931-2924

Bay Area

Grab your bottles of California white Burgundy, we might be back on the crab in time for Christmas.

San Francisco City Planning Commissioners want to ban drunk pizza munching on Broadway.

Get a free gingerbread house kit when you sign your family up for a membership to the Bay Area Discovery Museum, then enter your edible edifice in the 12th Annual Gingerbread Architecture Extravaganza.

Elsewhere

Are you ready for another new season of Top Chef? Yeah, me neither. How about just a Holiday special, featuring some of your favorite and loudest cheftestants?

It's long past Halloween, but those crazy Canadians are still scaring their fellow Canucks silly with a slew of workplace PSAs. The one below concerns kitchen safety. WARNING: This video is graphic, intensely disturbing, which, of course, makes it highly effective.

I am not a fan of smoked cheese. I don't like smoked provolone, smoked cheddar is just unnecessary, and I gag over the weird yellow dappling that smoking mozzarella brings about. Therefore, I didn't expect to like Elk Creamery's Smoked Chèvre. But I bought it anyway. I have an open mind and an open palate, and I was intrigued by this fairly new (to me) offering from the Mendocino-based cheesemakers.

Smoked with organic alderwood and applewood on the Elk Creamery goat farm, the cheese smells like an entire side of St. Louis ribs AND a safely contained Brownie campfire. I had absolutely no desire to eat this tangy, smoky cheese raw, on crackers or on anything else, but my esteemed colleague, Head Cheese, brilliantly suggested I find some way of cooking with it. Pizza seemed to be the answer. A vegetarian pizza, to be precise; no need for any meats to add to the rich flavors the smoke was already bringing to the party.

After grabbing some Trader Joe's whole wheat ready-to-roll-and-bake pizza dough, a couple of veggies, and sloshing up some roasted tomato sauce, I was ready to build my pizza. The result was surprising. I was fully expecting to hate the cheese even in this iteration, but the combination of the spicy tomato sauce, the sweetly caramelized fennel, and the woodsy asparagus all managed, not to repel the smoked chévre, but to embrace it and welcome it into the pizza as just another flavorful topping.

2 heads of fennel
3-4 olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 recipe pizza dough
1 cup tomato sauce, bought or homemade and cooled
1/3 cup slivered asparagus
1 ounce Elk Creamery Smoked Chèvre, chilled

1. Preheat your oven to 475°. Slice the fennel thinly and place it in a large roasting pan. Toss the slivers with the olive oil, salt, and pepper and roast until slightly caramelized for about 10 minutes. Set aside.

2. Flour a pizza peel and douse it with a handful of cornmeal. The cornmeal will act as ball bearings when you slide your pizza into the oven. Roll the dough into a 12-inch round and ladle on the tomato sauce. Spread it evenly around the dough and evenly distribute the roasted fennel slivers and asparagus on top of the sauce.

3. Using a vegetable peeler, shave thin curls of Elk Creamery Smoked Chèvre over the pizza. Slide the pizza into the oven -- preferably on a heated pizza stone -- and bake for 10-12 minutes.

It's been over two years since I first posted here on BAB about the trials and tribulations of making pizza at home and yet not much has changed in my pizza world. I'm still the obnoxiously opinionated, obsessive pizza lover that I've always been, rarely without some kind of criticism. My standards are high, I know exactly what I like and don't like, and I'm quick to pass judgment.

But all that being said, I am still well aware of the fact that despite being a former professional baker and an avid cook, I have yet to replicate my perfect pizza at home. I know that I will never achieve greatness in a home oven, unable to make my oven soar to a blistering 900F, but I'd still like to get as close as I can to a delicious home-baked pizza. I've had lots of advice too, from baking it on a grill to turning on the broiler before baking. But I still feel that before I really start to experiment with the heat (beyond cranking my oven to the max at 500F and letting my pizza stone absorb all that heat for at least 30-60 minutes before I slide my hard-earned pizza in) I need to find a good crust recipe.

I've already got a great sauce recipe (the secret is 6-in-1 tomatoes, seriously), but the dough has alluded me for, well, my whole life. I've tried many different recipes, from Reinhardt's to the one on the side of the Italian '00' flour package to zillions of others, but I'm just never that impressed. Maybe it's me (I do have a terrible knack for being unable to follow a recipe because I always think I know better) or maybe it's just that I haven't found the perfect balance of ingredients.

All that being said, I decided to try the pizza dough recipe in The New Best Recipe, the cookbook from Cook's Illustrated. I've been using this cookbook for over a year now, and I have to say that nearly everything I've made from it has turned out, not only delicious, but one of the best examples of what I was making.

What I learned from my latest pizza experiment:
1) Bread flour is better than all-purpose or '00' flour. It helps keep the crust crisp and still chewy and moist.
2) A food processor works well for mixing a yeast dough (I've been using it for years for my pastry crust, but never for a yeasted dough. Proved me wrong).
3) Following a recipe won't hurt me.
4) My oven gets hotter than 500F. I think it maxed out at about 575F. A hot oven is critical to making a nice bubbly crisp crust. I even tried the broiler trick at the end that extramsg once advised, and it works great.

Sausage and Mushroom Pizza
*dough recipe adapted from The New Best Recipe (Cook's Illustrated)

For the dough
1/2 cup warm water (about 105F-100F)
1 envelope active dry or instant yeast
1 1/4 cups water, at room temperature
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for oiling the bowl
4 cups bread flour, plus more for dusting the work surface
1 1/2 teaspoons salt

For the pizza topping
1/2 lb sweet Italian sausage
About 6 cremini mushrooms, sliced
About 1 1/2 cups prepared tomato sauce
1 lb fresh mozzarella, thinly sliced
About 6 fresh basil leaves, cut into thin slivers (except you will notice I forgot to get it at the store so it's not on my pizza, but I recommend it)

Makes about three 12-inch pizzas

To make the dough, in a bowl or measuring cup, sprinkle the yeast over the warm water and let stand until the yeast dissolves, about 5 minutes. Add the room temperature water and the oil and stir to combine.

I used a food processor, but you can also use a stand mixer or just a bowl and wooden spoon. If using the processor (which Cook's Illustrated recommends and frankly worked great for me) process the flour and salt together. With the motor running add the water and yeast mixture and process until the mixture comes together and forms a ball.

Turn out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead a few times to form a smooth round ball.

Put the dough into an oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let stand in a warm place for about 2 hours, until the dough doubles in size.

Meanwhile, in a frying pan, cook the sausage meat until browned. Remove to a bowl and set aside. Drain all but 1 tablespoon fat from the pan and add the mushrooms. Saute until just cooked and add to the sausage.

Position a rack in the lower third of your oven. Line the rack with unglazed ceramic tiles or put a pizza stone on the rack and preheat your oven to 500F for at least 30 minutes (this is important, the tiles or stone need time to get really hot and absorb all that heat; it's what will help make your crust crisper and chewier, like a professional pizza oven).

Divide the dough into 3 equal balls. Set two balls aside and cover with a damp kitchen towel. On a lightly floured work surface, flatten the ball into a disk and use your fingers to press it out until it's about 1/2-inch thick. Gently stretch the dough, rotating it as you stretch, until it's about 12-inches in diameter.

Lightly dust a pizza peel with semolina, cornmeal or flour. Place the dough round on the peel. Lightly brush the dough with olive oil.

Spread about 1/2 cup tomato sauce evenly on the dough, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Sprinkle about 1/3 of the sausage and mushroom mixture evenly over the top of the dough. Place about 1/3 of the mozzarella slices on top of the sausage.

Slide the pizza onto the hot pizza stone (or tiles). Bake for about 7 minutes or until the dough is golden brown and the toppings are sizzling. Eat!

Epilogue:
Mmmmmmmmmm. This pizza exceeded my expectations. It was crisp yet still moist and slightly chewy. A little thicker than I tend to like, but full of nice big bubbles. It browned nicely, just in time for the cheese to melt and get a few nice brown spots. It maybe needed a touch more salt, and would probably have been better if I'd let it rise overnight in the refrigerator (which gives it more flavor). But definitely one of the best pizzas I've made in a very long time.

My friends and colleagues don't really like to bring up the subject of pizza in front of me. I have quite strong opinions when it comes to the topic, and some people might even think that I have a tendency to go off the deep end. Okay, well, most people. But truly, what is better than a perfect pizza? To me, when it's perfect, it is the perfect food.

A perfect pizza comes fresh out of the blistering heat of a wood- or coal-fired oven (often around 800F!) and should be eaten as soon as possible (while avoiding the burn!). I am partial to the Margherita pizza because I think it shows off the best qualities of a pizza: a crisp chewy crust, fresh tomato sauce, just the right amount of top-quality mozzarella cheese, and fresh basil. Of course, housemade sausage, roasted peppers, and sometimes anchovies are all welcome on my pizza too, depending upon my mood.

Over a decade ago I discovered this perfect pizza on a trip to New York City. John's Pizza on Bleecker in the Village became my gold pizza standard. (It is how I have described the perfect pizza above, although covered with crispy-edged slices of meatballs.) Unfortunately I live on the west coast, where finding a good pizza, much less the perfect pizza, is painfully difficult. Yes, you can get a great thin-crust pizza at Oliveto and Chez Panisse, but I'm talking about the real deal pizza place. A pizzeria. (And I'm not talking about one of those by-the-slice places. As far as I'm concerned, only a place that sells whole pies, no slices, is serious about their pizza. More on that in another blog.)

When I first moved here, I started looking for pizza. This was back in 1994. The best pizza I found back then, and which I still love to this day (although it has been surpassed as my ultimate Bay Area pizza), was Tommaso's. Tommaso's is a family-run Italian restaurant in North Beach that has been around since 1935. It's a great, casual, old-school kind of place. In the last few years, 3 other fantastic restaurants have opened that offer pizza as the main draw: Pizzetta 211 (well-known by any pizza hunter worth their salt), A16 (true Napoli-style pizza at its finest), and Dopo (beautiful thin-crust Roman-style pizza). I could go on and on about each of these places, the different styles of their pizza, how I love all three but for very different reasons, but that's not what I'm getting at here. I still want a pizzeria. A real deal pizzeria, old-school pizzeria. Like you find in NY, New Haven, Rome, and Naples. Must I go to the east coast every time I want this experience? Fly to Italy?

Oh no. As I discovered last weekend, you can remain on this coast and still find fantastic NY-style pizza perfection. Unfortunately, it is not in the Bay Area. Nor is it in California. No, my friend, you do have to get on a plane and fly to Portland. I know, I had my serious doubts too, but when my brother's girlfriend Amy (sister pizza hunter) started raving about this place, and became a weekly regular, I knew I had to try it.

Apizza Scholls started life in a small town outside of Portland as Scholls Public House. Recently (in January), due to a variety of reasons, the pizzeria relocated to SE Portland. The owners and pizzaiolos of Apizza Scholls take their pizza very seriously, as it should be. They strive to make the best pizza, using the best-quality freshest ingredients, and make only as many pizzas as they have dough. They even have rules: only 3 ingredients on one pie, and only 1 meat per pie. No meat-lovers pizza here. I love this place. And when this much love and determination goes into a pizza, everybody wins.

We ordered one of their amazing Caesar salads, 2 Margherita pies, and 1 sausage. Both pies had the ideal balance of crisp-chewy, thin-but-not-too-thin crust; fresh tomato sauce; and a blend of high-quality cheese, all topped with basil or housemade sausage. The pies come directly from the blistering 650F-900F oven and are so hot you will hurt yourself if you try to eat it immediately. Not that that stopped us. It was so amazing that it was hard to get the picture of it (above) before everyone was digging in.

So, I've found my gold standard. I wish it was in the Bay Area. But until a pizzeria of this caliber comes to my town, I'll just have to start building up my frequent flyer miles.