A simple party among friends in a sunny late afternoon. Watching, or rather feeling on your shoulder the sun setting. Suddenly, you lift your eyes and see anything but a starry night, and silence. Except, there's music and people are dancing. There are empty bottles on the tables and plates with what remains of on of the best pizza I have ever tried.
Matteo, the pizza master, a young student of the University of Gastronomic Sciences from Naples --ça va sans dire-- made the dough with pasta madre (natural starter or levain), let it rise overnight and made 60 little balls of dough ready to be spread in circles and topped with the sweetest tomato sauce, mozzarella, olives, capers, rocket, herbs, olive oil with chili or garlic. No fuss, just good, very good ingredients.
Of course, the oven is important as well. The students hosting the party found this amazing house surrounded by fields with a wood fire oven and a huge yard for any kind of event. The oven has been lightened a day ahead in order to reach the temperature of 400°C. Pizzas went in and out in a minute or so, all perfectly cooked, fragrant and terribly good --maybe a bit hot, I had to go carefully there!
I ate so much that I had to dance for a while to burn it off. But the pleasure in biting that dough, slice after slice, prevented me from not stealing a piece of each pizza coming out of the oven. The steam was irresistible and in fact, I could not resist.
We walked back in the dark, on a side road with no cars and no light except for a moltitude of fire bugs. I haven't seen any in years. The last time was probably in my childhood, on the mountains in summer. I thought I was lucky to live here now, sorrounded by friends, amazing food and enchanting nature.
I have no recipe for making pizza, especially this pizza. How could I cope with all those variables --the oven, the natural starter, the skills of a professional pizzaiolo? No, I have just the memory of taste. The taste of pizza, and the bitter-sweet aftertaste of my reflections.
