Pizza.

Let me preface this entry with a disclaimer:
I, David Mattera, am, in actuality, not a cocky person. When I say things that come off as arrogant, it's a product of my ironic disposition. If I were to say something like, "Statuesque, like this guy?" pointing to myself, it would be out of the irony that I am not statuesque. In this instance, however, the meal I made tonight really did turn out pretty bangin'...ly.

Allora, that being said let me tell you about it.

I finished up with my last class of the night around 6:30 and from there, went to the bus stop to catch the first bus down Broad st. towards my apartment. I caught a bus that was going to the bus depot figuring I could get off at Robinson and Park, about 4 blocks from my apartment (I hope I haven't given away too much private information). However, the bus driver, seemingly out of spite, took me all the way to the depot, about 12-15 blocks from my apartment. I mention this only to give context to my hunger. Oh yeah, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was wonderfully filling chocolate chip pancakes. Thanks Erynn and Grace!

On the way home, I had more than expected time to think about what to eat. "Chinese? I could cook something but it's late to do anything intricate. I wish I had a big pot of soup ready but I'm sweating and that wouldn't help" I said in my head. At least I hope that was in my head. I was getting a lot of strange looks, come to think of it. Nevermind. Long story...still long, I arrived at the decision to look at what we'd bought the other day before deciding anything. That was my decision until I reached Arianna's Grill, at the end of my block (oh geez. That IS way too much information). "I'll get a pizza crust and use my sauce and cheese and make a pizza!"
"What?" said the guy smoking a cigarette outside the door.

I bought a small crust worth of dough, $3, and rushed home. I flattened the dough into a rough pizza shape with plenty of flour on my cutting board so it wouldn't stick. I threw on some of my homemade sauce, which is:

-Canned, whole tomatoes, rinsed and blended until pleasantly chunky
-onions, sweated in oil and a little bit of butter
-a few leaves of basil at the end
-8 hours in a crock pot on high

On the sauce I put some sliced up Polly-O whole milk mozzarella. It's no "di bufala", but it's good for pizza. Not too much either. I left some spaces. In those spaces I put ricotta cheese and sprinkled on some Parmesan. On to that, I added some basil leaves and a squirt of olive oil. I was ready to put it in the ove...THE MOST IMPORTANT INGREDIENT.

Black Truffle butter.
A few little wedges of what has become one of my primary staple food items and into the oven it went. Now, the key is heat. That's how cooking works...

But in the case of pizza, you want a ton of heat under the crust, like you'd get from a pizza stone. I don't have one, but I have a pizza tray and a gas oven with a broiler. I layered the bottom of the oven with foil so I didn't have to clean anything up and cranked the oven to broil, leaving it for ample time to get really hot. When hot, I put the pizza, on the tray, on the floor of the oven, directly over the flames.

In about 6 minutes I had, ready to go, a scorching hot, molten pizza. So hot, in fact, that I felt the heat quite plainly through my silicone oven mitt. I let cool for a moment and then dug in.

Here goes with the aforementioned cockiness. I can only compare it to two pizzas I've ever had. One, the pizza my brother made when he came home from France after culinary school. The other, from Pizzeria Brandi in Naples where the Margarita pizza was invented. The crust on my pizza was beautifully charred on the bottom and perfectly soft on the top. The sauce was sweet but not cartoonishly so and not over spiced with weird things like some sauces tend to be. The cheese was melty and smooth but thin enough that there was no pulling off a sheet of cheese leaving tomato stained flat bread. Separating the mozzarella with ricotta made each bit a mixture of flavors and consistencies. The basil was frozen fresh and didn't get soggy or too dry and hit a spot on the palate that would have gone wanting otherwise. Then the truffle butter gives a perfectly complementary aspect that doesn't overpower but doesn't go unnoticed and certainly not unappreciated. When people ask what truffles taste like, I have trouble describing the flavor but I do so saying, "It's a savory and earthy and it makes you want more."
(Sometimes, for those more likely to not have food easily ruined by unusual description, I describe them as a "delicious, garlicy fart.")

The best part was the crust though. I admittedly didn't make the crust by hand but by cooking it at such an intense temperature, it became the highlight of the evening–though, the night is young.
A meal for the ages. It makes me think of how wonderful it is to be alive.