Pizza Soloni

I have made The Recipe!

Recently, before the postcard showers hit, I spoke of a recipe I made up in theory then submitted to a recipe contest. Tonight I made it, and for once, I followed directions exactly.

Almost exactly. I reduced cooking time by 90 seconds, used a different kind of cheese (although staying within the same cheese family), and applied that cheese in a manner that was logical. (Which is to say, I may have made a bad verb choice when writing up the recipe for the contest.) And so, because the recipe has been modified, I feel comfortable presenting it here.

Behold: PIZZA SOLONI!

(Title to be explained at the end. It's not the title of the original recipe.)

Do not fear: this will not be one of those pizza recipes where you're mostly impressed because the ingredients are fresh and you bothered to make the sauce yourself.

Since it's pizza, you will need a crust. A thin crust. I am not going to tell you where to get the crust - I leave that to your own inventiveness. Me, I used one of those ready-made crusts. It was not Boboli. That's all I can say, if you know what I mean.

Now put that crust on some parchment paper, put the crust/paper on a baking sheet, rub a tiny bit of olive oil all over the crust, and stick it over on an unused counter until you're ready.

The Cilantro Sauce

I just want to apologize to Heather. I could not help myself. This pizza has a chutney-like sauce that strongly features the Dread Herb Coriander. Again, sorry.

Above you see all of the ingredients for sauce. (If you're not sure what something is, click on the photo.) Throw them into a blender. Wait! Ignore the ginger and the garlic. They're not supposed to be in this scene. Damn pushy extras.

Blend the foreground ingredients. Remove and put aside.

I apologize for the shadow over the cilantro. Consider it an omen.

(I do realize it would be kinder of me to make a list of ingredients and exact proportions, but is anyone actually going to make this? Leave a comment if you have questions. Otherwise, pretend that eyeballing your way through the recipe is fun.)

The Spiced Cheese

By now it should be very obvious that this recipe is heavily influenced by my Indian buffet experience. Now what you see here is the cheese and a few ingredients that should be tumbled with it and set aside.

You'll notice that one of the ingredients is turmeric. (The others are salt, lemon juice and cilantro - I'm not going to make you click just to see what the wet stuff is.) Tell me the truth: is turmeric just there to turn things yellow? If so, I'm glad I bought it in the Indian section of Albertson's where it's 65 cents an ounce, and not in the bakery section two aisles over where it's $2.65 per ounce.

The cheese is panela, a type of Mexican farmer's cheese that's easy to find around Las Vegas. I don't know if that's the case elsewhere; it's been hard tracking the progress of Tex-Mex since I moved to Texas then here. (In the 70s, in my stretch of Michigan, people would go to Taco Bell when they wanted to go out to eat Mexican. I was the only person I knew who tacos at home.)

Cheese aside, it's time to heat the oil and throw on some spices.

At the top of the photo is the chili powder, cumin, and mustard seed. Heat that 15-20 seconds then throw on the rest (onions, garlic, ginger).

When the onions go a bit translucent, toss the cheese mixture into the pan, stir, and stir regularly for the next 5 minutes.

Assembly

Above is what you should be doing to your crust. Spread the sauce over it to make a thin layer, and don't feel like you have to use all of it. I dumped every last drop on the crust, which is fine because I adore cilantro, but there's no harm in choosing a more subtle path.

Do you spy the secret ingredient? They're cashews! They didn't make the photographic cut during prep, sorry. I chopped up a bunch of cashews and sprinkled about a tablespoon over the crust at this stage. Another teaspoon went over the top of pizza, later, but I think I could've added even more. I really like cashews and these didn't get all of the attention they deserve.

This is what the cheese looks like as it cooks:

When the five minutes are up, ladle the soft, spicy cheese over the crust. If you should happen to read a similar recipe that tells you to "crumble" the cheese, just assume the author was some nutjob who didn't actually test the recipe before writing it. (She may have also suggested that you could use extremely well pressed cottage cheese if you couldn't get paneer. She may be undecided whether that was good advice.)

Now top with additional itty bitty bits of cashews, if you like. Now..

Wait! I should've told you to preheat the oven. Sorry! Follow the pizza crust manufacturer's instructions for oven temperature and cooking times. (I went with eightish minutes at 425.)

Remove from oven, cool slightly, cut... and enjoy?

My verdict: OMG. I've done it. I've made something sensational. It has a little more heat than I expected but... but... yes, it's okay. Interesting, even. Nice. What's this Mike is saying about the lime being overpowering at first? Maybe, but it clears up by the second bite, doesn't it? Yes. Then it adds something. This is the best thing I've ever made!

Mike's verdict is best expressed by the following careful statements:

(During cooking): "Wow, that smells wonderful."

(Still during cooking): "That really smells great. I can't wait."

(First two bites): "Hm. Hm. I just don't know. No, it's not bad at all. It's... hm."

(After finishing): "I like cilantro, but I like it to be really... hidden."

(When asked how he'd review it) "It's not really for me, but it's good for other people."

(When asked if it's for cilantro fans): "It's really good for cilantro fanatics."

Mike's final thoughts seem to be that there's too much cilantro and that it's weird to have "pizza" without tomato sauce. My final thoughts are that, wow, I'm, like, a god. This pizza has given me so much confidence that I'm going to join Toastmasters just so I can give speeches about it.

I call this version "Pizza Soloni" because I wanted to acknowledge the Indian aspect, and I read somewhere that "soloni" is a Hindi word for "dear, beautiful." (As in, this is a beautiful pizza that is very dear to me, so it doesn't need other people to like it.) I'll probably find out that "soloni" is a form that's only used when describing especially hairy testicles or something, but that's okay.

I also like that it includes "solo" (a nod to its creation process and current number of fans) and that it sounds vaguely Italian. So, in fifty years, people will be writing stuff on trivia sites like, "Contrary to many first impressions, Pizza Soloni is not an Italian dish. It was invented in Las Vegas and was meant to invoke a Hindi word for 'beautiful.' 'Soloni' is also the name of a failed perfume briefly manufactured by a crazy lady in the desert who thought the world would be a better place if everyone smelled like cilantro. See also the Mandatory Pocket Pet Movement of 2014."

Honestly, I loved this. I'm disappointed in almost every new recipe I try, but this made me happy. I feel so empowered, maybe I'll go invent a sports bra that doesn't take meetings at my neck. CIlantro powers - activate!

Comments

[Heather in PA]

Dear GOD, Shari. You had me at pizza, but lost me at cilantro. That said, CONGRATULATIONS! I think if I liked cilantro, I'd absolutely love this. I've never ever seen an Indian-Italian fusion. You could be on to something. Maybe I could try this with basil or something? I made my very first pesto the other day and I liked it so much that I didn't bother wasting it on pasta. Just kept dipping chunks of bread in it....

It's a beautiful pizza, though. Really. Gorgeous. damn shame about the cilantro, though.

;)

Oh, and re: sports bras - have you tried Title 9 Sports? www.titlenine.com

[Shari]

Thank you! And MMMMM pesto! Even better than cilantro! (Although even I haven't had the guts to try cilantro pesto.) Try it - tell me what happens!

Hey, I've heard of Title Nine. I already like their descriptions, especially for the Last Resort - lol. I'm thinking I might suck it up and do the bra fitting thing, maybe even make the return to underwire if that works. (I'm just so skeptical that the laws of physics would allow certain parts of my body to be hoisted up *and* comfortable!)

Melissa's bra-fitting tale at Suburban Bliss inspired me to at least think about it. But then what excuse would I have for hunching over and whining at the end of the day? As opposed to lying here whining because, damnit, the beloved pizza has DISAPPEARED! I do have another crust...

[Heather in PA]

ooh! another crust, eh? Here's my 'boboli' go-to creation:

mix some olive oil, one crushed clove of garlic, some dried basil, and dried oregano. (Amounts? ummm, maybe 2 TB olive oil, 1 tsp basil, 1/2 tsp oregano?). stir it up, and brush it all over your crust. Next, spread sour cream (light or even fat free is ok) over the whole thing. This is your 'sauce.' If you have time it's nice to let the oil/herb mix soak into the crust for a while before doing the sour cream thing.

Top with chopped canned artichoke hearts, fresh tomatoes... and anything else. We've done pepperoni, cooked chicken breast... etc.

Bake.

Yummy!

[Shari]

Sour cream! That sounds quite try-able. Except... except... Mike claims all sour cream in the name of his taco empire. Maybe he and I can combine forces and make a taco pizza. :)