One of the joys of starting a kitchen from new is that you can fill the bare walls with exactly the kitchen you want. We have just finished doing this, and apart from the obvious culinary necessities, pride of place is taken up with my brick-domed wood-fired pizza oven. I call it a pizza oven, but it is no different from the ovens built in Anatolia 5,000 years ago. A design this old and used in so many cultures is obviously a versatile one; apart from pizza it can cook anything else as any oven would. But I didn't build it to replace my gas oven, I made it specifically for pizza and bread.

Friends were, of course, quick to demand pizza nights, and at first I was happy to oblige; eager to show off. But here's the rub: it's hard work. While everyone eats and at times compliments the pizza, the cook stands sweating at the oven door, paddle in hand. By the time it's finally my turn, the fillings seem to have gone, the fire is no longer at its best, and everyone else is onto the coffee and fags.

When I was a small boy, in the kitchen of the family house in Italy there was a oven just like mine, and just like mine it was built into a corner next to the hearth. My grandmother would bake once a week, on a Monday, eight large pagnotte - round two-kilo loaves which would be kept, wrapped in linen, in a large wooden chest. By the following Sunday what was left would be rock-hard and edible only after soaking a slice in milk or wine. When the bread baking was over nonna would make pizza with the dough that was left. She would stoke the oven once more to get the heat up, and occasionally check the temperature with a piece of newspaper. If it went brown and curled up, she knew the temperature was over 400° Fahrenheit; hot enough to cook a pizza in four or five minutes.

Pizza for me and mine has a thin base and is made with yeast, strong flour, water and, when cooked in a domestic oven, a little olive oil. The variations on this recipe available in Ireland may be good pies, but they are not pizzas. For me pizza is Neapolitan; the closer it conforms to that ideal the more I like it. The classic Neapolitan pizza recipe is this: for 500 grammes of strong flour you need 25 grammes of fresh yeast or its dry equivalent, two teaspoons of salt, a pinch of sugar, a tablespoon of good olive oil and water to make a firm dough. This will make four roughly nine-inch pizzas. Mix the flour and salt in a mixing bowl, meanwhile add the fresh yeast to a glass of warm water and stir it well with a fork. For dried yeasts follow the instructions on the packet. When the yeast is foamy and creamy make a well in the flour and add the yeast and the olive oil. Start making the dough, adding water a little at a time until the dough is firm and well mixed. Knead the dough until it is silky and elastic then put it in a floured bowl, cover with a plastic bag, and leave to rise. A cross cut on the top will help. When it has risen, which depending on the room temperature will be between one and three hours, knock the dough back by kneading it again. Now roll out your four pizze. Put them on oiled tins and fill them.

Don't use the pizze as a dumping ground for things found lurking in the back of the fridge - stick with some classic toppings which have proved their appeal over the years. A simple Margherita - tomato sauce, mozzarella and leaves of basil is hard to beat.

Pizza needs a hot oven, pre-heated to about 425° Fahrenheit or 220° centigrade. Between five and ten minutes should be sufficient, depending on the topping. A dish of boiling water in the oven will help give a crusty texture to the dough.