Chapter 1: Discovering Brooklyn's Pizza Scene

Several years ago, my wife and I took a trip to Brooklyn, New York, coinciding with her half marathon through Prospect Park, part of the Rock ’N’ Roll Marathon Series organized by the Hard Rock brand. We found a charming apartment on a tree-lined street near Flatbush Ave and spent the weekend discovering the borough. While she dashed through the race, cheered on by lively bands and enthusiastic crowds, I eagerly awaited her at the finish line.

When we aren’t focused on workouts or my writing, we love seeking out exciting dining spots. This particular trip opened my eyes to the wonders of Brooklyn Pizza, showcasing the incredible results achievable with just flour, water, yeast, salt, tomato sauce, and mozzarella.

After thorough research into various culinary options, we ventured to a renowned pizza establishment in Brooklyn. Arriving shortly before their 5 PM opening, we found a line of six to eight eager patrons ahead of us. By the time we were seated, the restaurant was bustling with around twenty guests.

What we enjoyed that evening revolutionized my perception of pizza. Although I had always appreciated thin-crust, Neapolitan-style pizza from New York and New Jersey, I now realized that pizza could be something more than just a good meal—it could be transcendent.

With my pizza expertise, I can typically gauge the quality of a pie simply by its appearance. Key indicators include the sauce-to-cheese ratio and the crust’s rise and color. Ultimately, though, it comes down to the dough's texture and flavor. Ideally, it should be thin and crispy yet chewy, sturdy enough to hold its toppings while remaining pliable. The best pizzas also carry a subtle smokiness from wood or coal-fired ovens.

Everything about this pizza looked promising, but the real test lay in the flavor. How exceptional could it truly be? It’s just pizza, after all.

“Oh my god,” my wife exclaimed.

“What on earth?” I replied. “Are they conjuring magic back there? Sacrificing mythical creatures? Did they make a deal with the devil?”

To me, it felt as if this pizza was the result of centuries of culinary refinement—a perfect synergy of ingredients, methods, and execution. Perhaps this was the reason for our visit.

My journey into pizza-making began in the 1990s after reading an article in Saveur Magazine, which featured a straightforward dough recipe using flour, water, yeast, and salt. Over the years, I gradually upgraded my tools, acquiring a pizza stone and paddle, and experimenting with various yeasts and flours.

The turning point came when I discovered “00” flour, a finely milled Italian flour typically used for pasta, which elevated my homemade pizza into an art form. Additionally, I transitioned from a pizza stone to a pizza steel, which is half an inch thick and occupies almost an entire rack in my Viking oven. This heavy piece retains heat longer and distributes it more effectively than traditional stones. My final breakthrough emerged during the COVID pandemic when I uncovered the science of high-hydration dough.

This flour allowed me to create a dough so elastic I could stretch it nearly transparent, while the addition of 50% more water produced a bubbly, airy crust when baked on the scorching steel.

To enhance the smoky flavor, I brush the crust edges with olive oil infused with smoke flavoring. I also incorporate “dark and smoky” hot pepper flakes for an extra kick.

When it comes to cheese, many recommend using fresh, whole-milk mozzarella, shredded by hand. While pre-shredded, low-moisture mozzarella may lack optimal melting properties, I find that a light touch with both sauce and shredded cheese, complemented by dollops of fresh mozzarella, provides a creamy texture while being cost-effective.

I prefer a savory pizza, steering clear of sugary sauces, and sprinkle kosher sea salt on the crust before baking. Each pizza takes just under 10 minutes to cook. Nowadays, I typically prepare a double batch of dough, inviting friends and family to join in. This results in enough dough for six small 12” pizzas, perfect for snacking rather than a formal dining experience—there are never any leftovers.

Recently, I returned to Brooklyn for a photo shoot for a client in Las Vegas. Staying near Brooklyn Heights, my producer, cinematographer, and I visited Henry’s End, celebrating its 50th anniversary and offering seasonal wild game dishes.

We sampled Kangaroo Potstickers, Goose Liver Mousse with honey on grilled bread, Duckling with Mushrooms and Lingonberries, 15-spice NY Strip with apple chutney, and herb-crusted Elk Chops. Each dish was fabulous—decadent and perfectly balanced.

The next day, our shoot went smoothly, and the three of us decided to dine at a highly-rated Italian restaurant called Botte. Given my heavy meal the night before and the restaurant’s impressive wood-fired pizza oven, I opted for a pizza.

I’m not particularly fond of traditional margherita pizzas, which often have an overwhelming amount of sauce and insufficient cheese. I prefer a more balanced approach. Therefore, when I requested a classic cheese pizza, the waiter assured me it could be done, but what arrived was still more sauce than cheese. Despite his offer to remake it, I decided to keep it as is, even though he attempted to compensate with an excessive sprinkle of Parmesan.

While I’ve certainly tasted worse pizza, this was one of my least favorites, especially considering it was in New York—specifically Brooklyn. When my companions inquired about the pizza, I had to be honest.

“I make better pizza,” I replied.

I’ve documented my pizza passion extensively, some of which overlaps with this experience. This was my first opportunity to measure my skills against my ideal of Brooklyn pizza, particularly since the pandemic began.

Although I haven’t yet built or purchased a dedicated pizza oven at home, it’s a thought that crosses my mind every year. The luxury of a 900° wood-fired oven could elevate my pizzas to new heights, but for now, I feel confident in my ability to compete with some of the best.

Tonight, I’ll be preparing burgers—something I plan to experiment with next. I want to create my own blend of ground meat and seasoning, with better rolls cooked over lump charcoal on a classic Weber dome, reminiscent of the hickory-smoked, charcoal-broiled burgers from my youth. Medium rare and bursting with flavor.

Perhaps I’ll revisit the idea of a proper pizza oven later, but in any case, I’m certain my pizza can hold its own. With Easter approaching, we’ll be dining elsewhere, which raises my anxiety about my wife’s potato salad. Still, I’ve suggested a new twist for her deviled eggs, adding horseradish and pickled jalapeño relish for an extra zing. After all, if you’re going to enjoy eggs, they should be delightfully devilish.

But tomorrow, I’ll be making pizza.

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Chapter 2: The Pizza Challenge

In this intriguing video titled "This Man Pays To Be Treated Like A Pizza | Channel 4 - YouTube," we explore the unique lengths some individuals go to experience the world of pizza in extraordinary ways.