The Perfect Pizza

I'll admit it before I begin: I have deep prejudices about pizzas. For one I like them best when they're Italian - but then I would say that, wouldn't I? I feel about deep-pan pizzas as I do about instant coffee - perfectly agreeable, but not to be confused with the real thing.
I'm not even happy with a well-made Italian-style pizza unless it comes out of a wood-fired brick-domed oven. That's how prejudiced I am. It starts, like any bias, in the home. In my kitchen I make my own dough and use a wood-fired oven to cook the pizzas. Consequently I measure others against my own.

Cooking in a wood-fired oven with no thermostat needs getting used to. I test the temperature with a piece of newspaper. If it goes brown and wrinkles up, then the temperature is right. If it bursts into flames, then it's too hot. I copy the Neapolitan technique of the double firing; that is first put in the base with the tomato sauce and a sprinkling of olive oil, then when the base has nearly cooked, add the mozzarella and the rest of the filling and put it back in the oven. This way the base gets cooked without burning the mozzarella.

The quest for the perfect pizza has lead me to try different yeasts and different flours. Finding speciality flours took a bit a time, but when I found Shackleton's Mill on the Liffey all my problems were solved.

Apart from finding the strong flour I wanted, I had a beautiful autumnal drive through the strawberry beds. The mill stands on the banks of the Liffey, a huge, rambling six-storey building dating from the Napoleonic wars. It's full of trap-doors and ladders; wooden floors, walls, ceilings, doors and walkways from one level to the next.

The Shackleton family have been milling since the 1770's, and the Anna Liffey Mill has been in the family since 1859. Two pelton turbines drive the millstones and the more modern steel rollers, while a third provides emergency power. Milling is one of those rare industries where low-tech, in the shape of water power, far from being a handicap becomes a major plus for the range of wholemeal flours produced here.

Michael Higgins, their technical expert listened to my needs and gave me bags of strong white flour for pizza and durum wheat semolina for making pasta. Strong flour is literally just that. When you stretch the dough it doesn't break; it's strong and elastic. If you've ever seen pizza chefs throwing the dough about, twirling it and spinning it, and you want to try for the same effect yourself, then you'll need the strong flour.

(c) Paolo Tullio, 2004