American Pie: My Search for the Perfect Pizza by Peter Reinhart (English) Hardco

Description: American Pie by Peter Reinhart Fully illustrated, "American Pie" is a look into the great pizzas and pizzerias of Italy and America. Included are in-depth pizza-making techniques, more than 40 classic pizza recipes and an engaging narrative of Reinharts pizza hunts. FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Master bread baker Peter Reinhart follows the origins of pizza from Italy to the States, capturing the stories behind the greatest artisanal pizzas of the Old World and the New.Beginning his journey in Genoa, Reinhart scours the countryside in search of the fabled focaccia col formaggio. He next heads to Rome to sample the famed seven-foot-long pizza al taglio, and then to Naples for the archetypal pizza napoletana. Back in America, the hunt resumes in the unlikely locale of Phoenix, Arizona, where Chris Bianco of Pizzeria Bianco has convinced many that his pie sets the new standard in the country. The pizza mecca of New Haven, grilled pizza in Providence, the deep-dish pies of Chicago, California-style pizza in San Francisco and Los Angeles-these are just a few of the tasty attractions on Reinharts epic tour.Returning to the kitchen, Reinhart gives a master class on pizza-making techniques and provides more than 60 recipes for doughs, sauces and toppings, and the pizzas that bring them all together. His insatiable curiosity and gift for storytelling make American Pie essential reading for those who aspire to make great pizza at home, as well as for anyone who enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Flap On the subject of pizza, there is never a shortage of opinions. Allegiances run from the general (Chicago versus New York style, Neapolitan versus Roman) to the particular (Pepes versus Sallys, Ginos East versus Pizzeria Uno), and new interpretations ever extend the pizza frontier. In American Pie, master bread baker Peter Reinhart follows the trail from Italy to the States, capturing the stories behind the greatest artisanal pizzas of the Old World and the New. Beginning his journey in Genoa, Reinhart scours the countryside in search of the fabled focaccia col formaggio. He next heads to Rome to sample the famed seven-foot-long pizza al taglio, and then to Naples for the archetypal pizza napoletana. Back in America, the hunt resumes in the unlikely locale of Phoenix, Arizona, where Chris Bianco of Pizzeria Bianco has convinced many that his pie sets the new standard in the country. The pizza mecca of New Haven, grilled pizza in Providence, the deep-dish pies of Chicago, California-style pizza in San Francisco and Los Angeles-these are just a few of the tasty attractions on Reinharts epic tour. Returning to the kitchen, Reinhart gives a master class on pizza-making techniques and provides more than 60 recipes for doughs, sauces and toppings, and the pizzas that bring them all together. His insatiable curiosity and gift for story telling make American Pie essential reading for those who aspire to make great pizza at home, as well as for anyone who enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Author Biography Peter Reinhart is a full-time baking instructor at Johnson and Wales University in Charlotte, North Carolina. He was the cofounder of the legendary Brother Junipers Bakery in Santa Rosa, California, and is the author of six books on bread baking, including Brother Junipers Bread Book and the 2002 James Beard and IACP Book of the Year, The Bread Bakers Apprentice. Review "Peter Reinhart has taken a deep look into pizza, one of the best and simplest of foods, embracing all its variety. He probes American pizza especially, but he has tasted the original in Naples and visited elsewhere in Italy to learn about variations and relatives. He tells vivid stories, and his recipes and techniques are thorough and practical. A splendid book." —Edward Behr, editor, The Art of Eating"I doubt whether anyone else could be as passionate as Peter Reinhart about pizzas or have made such extensive and exciting journeys in pursuing them. He has collected great anecdotes and wonderfully detailed recipes in the course of his intercontinental hunt." —Alan Davidson, author of The Oxford Companion to Food"We all know that Peter Reinhart is a great baker and teacher, but now that hes fallen in love with pizza, we can see hes also a great tour guide as he takes us to the best pizzerias in Italy and America. Secrets are divulged, expert tips provided, and stories told. Much more than a collection of recipes, this is a book that is as fun to read as it is to bake from." —Carol Field, author of The Italian Baker Review Quote "Peter Reinhart has taken a deep look into pizza, one of the best and simplest of foods, embracing all its variety. He probes American pizza especially, but he has tasted the original in Naples and visited elsewhere in Italy to learn about variations and relatives. He tells vivid stories, and his recipes and techniques are thorough and practical. A splendid book." --Edward Behr, editor, The Art of Eating "I doubt whether anyone else could be as passionate as Peter Reinhart about pizzas or have made such extensive and exciting journeys in pursuing them. He has collected great anecdotes and wonderfully detailed recipes in the course of his intercontinental hunt." --Alan Davidson, author of The Oxford Companion to Food "We all know that Peter Reinhart is a great baker and teacher, but now that hes fallen in love with pizza, we can see hes also a great tour guide as he takes us to the best pizzerias in Italy and America. Secrets are divulged, expert tips provided, and stories told. Much more than a collection of recipes, this is a book that is as fun to read as it is to bake from." --Carol Field, author of The Italian Baker Excerpt from Book Introduction For a long time, I thought the best pizza in the country was from Mamas in Bala Cynwyd, just outside of Philadelphia. And then something happened. I grew up on Mamas, even worked there briefly as a delivery boy, and found warm comfort in its stringy cheese and crisp, yet floppy crust whenever Id been rejected for a date, lost a basketball game, or got together with high-school friends for a Saturday-night poker game. My family was equally hooked, and we often picked up a Mamas pizza for dinner when my mom wanted a break from cooking, especially if going out for Chinese food, our other favorite pastime, seemed like too much trouble. We knew the owners of Paganos Pizzeria in West Philadelphia and often went there when we wanted an actual restaurant experience to go along with our pizza, pasta, and broasted chicken (they were pioneers in this now rarely seen pressurized frying system). But as good as Paganos pizza was, it never measured up to Mamas for deeply felt satisfaction, a culinary balm of Gilead. More than forty years after eating my first Mamas pizza, almost always made by Paul Castelucci (though I never knew his last name when I worked as a delivery boy), the business is still in the family, and the pizzas are now supervised, but not made, by Paul Jr., Pauls son. Mamas is still extremely popular, with long waiting times not only for pizza, but also for fabulous stromboli, hoagies, and cheese steaks. My brother Fred, who now lives forty-five minutes from Mamas instead of the five minutes of our childhood, continues to make the pilgrimage whenever he needs a fix. He brought us a Mamas pizza when my wife, Susan, and I were in Philadelphia for a big food event. Susan had sprained her ankle at the airport just after we landed, forcing us to cancel our dinner plans so she could keep her foot on ice. When I called Fred to explain our plight, he said, "No problem, Ill pick up a pizza and some cheese steaks at Mamas and well eat in." I loved the idea. It had been years since my last Mamas pizza. The pizza arrived ninety minutes later, accompanied by Fred and his wife, Patty. I rushed through the greetings--hug, hug, "great to see you"--while Patty comforted Susan. I was captivated by the aroma of the pizzas and cheese steaks, and my mind floated away to distant times. It was like a long-lost friend, triggering painful and joyful memories that were flashing like a deck of cards rifled in front of my eyes. Id deal with those later. For now, as far as I was concerned, it was about opening the pizza box, unwrapping the butcher paper from the cheese steaks, and getting everyone to stop talking and start eating. We divvied up the cheese steaks, which tasted even better than I remembered them to be, and then, at last, passed around slices of the pizza. I took a bite and stopped, the pleasant image-streaming of food memories suddenly interrupted by a mental disconnect. I shook it off and took another bite expecting an automatic memory flash to kick in so I could resume my forty-year flavor retrospective. Instead, I got a blast of "Whoa! There was definitely something amiss. The words just came out without forethought. "Fred, theyve changed the crust." "No they havent." "Yes they have." "No, they havent. Maybe its you." "I dont think so. The crust is thicker and there are no air bubbles in the lip. Definitely not the Mamas I grew up with." "I think its you." "No, it isnt." Fred took another bite. "Well, it does seem a little thicker than usual. I heard they were breaking in a new pizza guy. But, I gotta tell you, its still pretty close to usual." "Maybe it is me," I thought. It wasnt just that the crust was a little different. The cheese and sauce certainly still resonated with old memories, and even if it wasnt the best Mamas, it was close enough that it should have elicited, within my usually tolerant margin-for-error forgiveness code, at least a sigh of pleasure. But something had changed within me. My expectations, an internal bar of standards that is both conscious and subconscious, had been violated. A slow wave of realization set in, one that I couldnt suppress even though I tried. "Maybe," I said to myself, "it was never as good as I thought it was, just the best Id been exposed to during my sheltered youth." I knew it was something I couldnt say out loud because Fred and Patty still lived here, while I was going back to Providence and might not have another Mamas pizza for years. Yet I couldnt shake the thought. Since 1990, when I left the communal setting of a religious order in which everyone lived a vow of poverty and thus had limited restaurant experience, I have had the privilege of teaching and writing about food, especially bread. Ive traveled around the country and beyond, belatedly pursuing knowledge about my taste passions. These passions are simple, not of the great gourmand type. I have learned that one of my inherent gifts is the ability to recognize flavors and textures of universal appeal and show people how to reproduce them. As a result of this gift, I have carved out a career as an educator, writer, and product developer. Which brings me back to pizza. I have had a steady stream of students who have their own sets of childhood food associations that have driven them to the gates of learning. Food memories, as James Beard and M.F. K. Fisher have shown us, are powerful and compelling forces. Wherever I teach, if I want to get a lively conversation going, I need only ask, "Where do I find the best pizza around here?" Nearly everyone has a pizza story and a strong opinion. Pizza, it seems, lives in everyones hall of fame. In 1976, I worked in Raleigh, North Carolina, as a houseparent in a home for what we euphemistically called undisciplined teenagers; in other words, juvenile delinquents. There was a pizzeria on Hillsborough Street called Brothers Pizza, and although I barely remember the details of the place, I do remember the experience of it. I took the kids there whenever we needed to decompress from the latest dramatic event in our house, and there were always, always dramas. That pizza, and only that pizza among all the pizza shops in town, was a panacea, our emotional salve. It had a crispy, crackly crust, like hot buttered toast, comforting and satisfying. It was perfect. The cheese was stringy and slightly salty. Was it the best pizza Id ever had? No, but it was "perfect" pizza, a peerless match of textures and flavors that fed more than our stomachs and palates. But if I had it now, all these years later, I imagine it would be like having a Mamas now. It would be good, perhaps the same as it always was, but it wouldnt be the pizza of 1976, when teenage boys and girls from shattered families, with broken hearts and raging hormones, felt safe enough to confess their fears to me and to one another as they ate their pizza. That pizza, out of that context, could never be that perfect again. So here I was, years after Raleigh, in Philadelphia, realizing that I was caught in a nature versus nurture situation. Was it me or was it the pizza that had changed, or was it a little bit of both? Im pretty sure that when I asked myself that question, I set this whole pizza quest in motion. -- In the pages that follow, I recount the journey that took place between my two visits to Phoenix, plus some trips that followed it. (This is a journey with no clear endpoint; it doesnt begin or end with Pizzeria Bianco or Mamas, but is merely signposted by them.) I had become a hunter of sorts, a pizza hunter, and I enlisted others to join me on the hunts. With Mamas no longer the benchmark, and with the memory of Pizzeria Bianco serving as a temporary beacon and standard, I sought out great pizza everywhere I traveled, and I traveled to seek out great pizza. Some of the numerous pizza excursions I choreographed were thwarted by circumstances: trip cancellations, a restaurant Closed sign, logistical mix-ups. But almost every time something went wrong, something else occurred to make it all right. In fact, Plan B was often better than Plan A could ever have been. As result I came up with the Reinhart Pizza Hunters Credo, a sound axiom for anyone who decides to adopt it: Its all about the adventure, not the pizza. The pizza is just grace. Sometimes my fellow pizza hunters made the hunt itself a more memorable adventure than the pizza did. I had so many interesting conversations around a pizza, on the way to get a pizza, or in anticipation of a pizza, that the pizza itself became the excuse for the hunt. But every now and then, the quality of the pizza transcended the hunt, stopped all conversation and refocused everything on itself, the object and subject, and the thrill of the hunt fulfilled itself in the quarry. When that happened it was magical, and all that mattered again was pizza. So, I followed the trail wherever it led. And where it inevitably led, to no ones surprise, was Italy. Details ISBN1580084222 Author Peter Reinhart Short Title AMER PIE Language English ISBN-10 1580084222 ISBN-13 9781580084222 Media Book Format Hardcover DEWEY 641.824 Illustrations Yes Imprint Ten Speed Press Subtitle My Search for the Perfect Pizza Country of Publication United States Residence Santa Rosa, CA, US Place of Publication Berkeley DOI 10.1604/9781580084222 UK Release Date 2003-11-04 AU Release Date 2003-11-04 NZ Release Date 2003-11-04 US Release Date 2003-11-04 Pages 272 Publisher Random House USA Inc Year 2003 Publication Date 2003-11-04 Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:11244664;

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