Persimmons, Russell Simmons, and Fuyu: Setting the Record Straight and Baking a Bread

It is a little known fact that I can speak Japanese. True, I only know two words, but I say them well.

1. Hachiya. No, it is not a greeting. It’s a persimmon.

2. Fuyu. No, not the clothing line (that’s FUBU). They are also persimmons. Not to be confused with Russell Simmons (who incidentally created Phat Farm, not FUBU).

There are about a dozen varieties of persimmons grown throughout the world; only two are generally found in the States: Hachiya and Fuyu (Fuyugaki). Both are Japanese.

Though Hachiya and Fuyu persimmons are both fun to say and have similarly pumpkin colored skin, they are different in shape, texture, and culinary use. It’s important to know the difference between them; otherwise, your persimmon eating experience will be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Hachiya persimmons are acorn shaped (see middle persimmon above) and have deeper orange skin with black streaks on it. They are astringent, which means they can be eaten only when fully ripened. A ripe Hachiya is extremely soft and should be squishy in your hand. Removing the thin skin reveals coral colored flesh so thick and glossy it looks like marmalade, and tastes like it too -- it's pleasingly sweet with hints of mango and apricot. Though they can be enjoyed raw, Hachiyas are really prized for baking.

Heed this advice: DO NOT eat an unripened Hachiya. It's like biting into a very green banana. Your mouth will become dry and chalky, and you will contort your face into unattractive expressions that will frighten your companions.

Fuyu persimmons in contrast are apple shaped and rather heavy for their size. Their skin ranges from pale yellow-orange to brilliant reddish-orange; generally, the darker the color, the sweeter the taste. Fuyu persimmons are non-astringent, which means you can eat them either firm or soft. Firm Fuyus can be eaten like an apple, and their crunchy flesh tastes like a sweet apple dusted with cinnamon. Soft, riper Fuyus can be also used for baking.

California persimmons are harvested from October to December, so it's the ideal time to make today's recipe: Persimmon and Date Bread from Food to Live By written by Myra Goodman, who along with her husband, Drew, run Earthbound Farm in San Juan Bautista, California. My cookbook is courtesy of Lillie, a lovely young woman who interned at Earthbound Farm this summer and graciously sent me a copy.

Infused with aromatic Chinese five-spice powder and ground cloves, this cake fills your home with warm aromas of autumn. The creamy Hachiya persimmons and honeyed Medjool dates create an exceptionally moist cake that is perfect for breakfast or an afternoon snack with a cup of tea. It is spicy (which I like), but if you don't, then I would suggest omitting the Chinese-five spice. The only change I made to the recipe was omitting 2 extra Tbsp of oil.

I am submitting this recipe to Leslie of Definitely Not Martha, who has chosen Beta Carotene Harvest for this month's Sugar High Friday. Though I love sweet potato pie and pumpkin bread, I thought this persimmon bread would be a delicious, beta carotene packed entry.

Persimmon and Date Bread
Print recipe only here.

Butter or cooking spray, for greasing the loaf pan
2 large eggs
1/2 cup canola oil
2 very ripe Hachiya persimmons, peeled and mashed (about 1 cup)
1/2 cup chopped pitted dates (I used Medjools)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts, toasted
1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground cloves

To toast the walnuts, spread nuts in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake for 5 minutes, then stir them. Bake another 3-5 minutes, until they are lightly colored and fragrant.

Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Butter or coat with cooking spray a 5 by 9-inch loaf pan and set aside.

Place the eggs and oil in a medium-size bowl and whisk to combine. Add the persimmons, dates, and walnuts and stir to blend.

Place the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, five-spice powder, nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves in a large bowl and whisk to blend. Add the egg mixture and stir to combine. Do not overmix or the bread will be tough. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan.

Bake the bread until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 60-70 minutes.

Let the bread cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Remove the bread from the pan and return it to the rack to finish cooling. Serve warm or at room temperature. The breakfast bread can be tightly wrapped in plastic wrap and refrigerated for up to a week.

You might also like:

Torte di Mele (Tuscan apple cake)
Date, Fennel, and Pistachio Scones
Olive Oil Cake with Rosemary and Lemon
Roasted Acorn Squash with Medjool Dates and Toasted Almonds

Here are more tasty persimmon recipes I'd like to try:

Chow Hound's Boozy Persimmon Pudding (made with brandy)
Nora's Persimmon Tart
Susan V's Persimmon Bread

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“It's Fri—taaa—taa!”

Every Friday after school, my mom and I delivered groceries to my grandmother in her little apartment. (More about her here). We arrived at her front door, arms heavy with Stop n' Shop bags, and would ring the bell with a free elbow. Invariably, I would complain about how long it was taking her. (I swear, it took her 5 minutes to walk the 10 feet from her recliner to the front door). And invariably, we would hear her voice from within, “Aspette! Aspette!” (Wait! Wait!). With my arms completely numb by this point, she would finally let us in and exclaim: “Oooohh, I’m so glad you came! I just made a nice fri—taaa—taa. You’ll have some.” She said it every time as if she didn’t expect us.

Though we ate frittata often at home, I associate it most with Spring and with Nan; Fridays during Lent we would abstain from meat, so she always made a simple vegetable frittata, which was waiting for us when we arrived.

On a typical New England March day (rainy and raw), we couldn’t wait to get inside her toasty warm apartment where the thermostat was always set at 78 degrees. Her cramped apartment exuded comfort: as a girl, I loved the way every nook and cranny was filled with furniture and heirlooms and the way the smell of baked goods and coffee filled the rooms. It was so quiet that I would just sit crouched on her sofa in the few beams of light from the late afternoon sun and listen to the ticking of her grandfather clock. After filling ourselves on frittata, my grandmother (and oftentimes my mother and I!) would fall asleep.

Frittata is really nothing more than eggs with vegetables, cheeses, or meats cooked into it. Yet, made the right way, it is oh-so-satisfying. Of the countless delicious meals my grandmother made, my mother still says her frittatas were the best. They were always simple: potato and onion, sausage and pepper, or spinach and Parmesan. Invariably, we would ask her: “But Nan, what do you do? Nobody makes frittata like you.” To which she would shrug her shoulders, throw her hand in the air, and reply,“What? What do I do? It’s frittata,” then smile to herself. She loved the compliment, and we knew it.

Nan’s Potato, Pepper, and Onion Frittata
Print recipe only here.

1-2 tsp olive oil
1 small potato, diced
1 small onion or shallot
1/2 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
5 eggs (Egg Beaters or whites only are also fine)
A handful of fresh basil, thinly sliced
A handful of fresh parsley, chopped
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
A few dashes of salt

Over medium-low heat, add olive oil to an 8-inch non-stick skillet; and potatoes and sauté until golden brown, about 5-7 min. Add onions; cook another 2-3 minutes. Add red bell pepper strips; cook another 2-3 minutes.

Meanwhile, beat the eggs in a small bowl; add fresh basil, parsley, cheese, salt, and red pepper. Pour the egg mixture into the skillet. With a fork, gently move the egg mixture from side to side as it begins to cook to ensure that it cooks evenly. Do this until the eggs start to solidify and a crust begins to form around the edges. This takes about 5-8 minutes. Give the pan handle a jiggle, and when the eggs appear set, remove the pan from the stovetop and place under the broiler. Broil for 3-4 minutes, until the top begins to puff up and turn a golden brown. Keep a close eye on it so it doesn’t burn. Once nicely browned, let cool for a couple of minutes before slicing. Serve hot or at room temperature. Makes 2 large or 4 small servings.

Leftovers? Try a Frittata Sandwich

Since no one left Nan's house without food (ever), we would often eat frittata for lunch the next day. Mom would put it on toasted Italian bread with a little bit of homemade tomato sauce ("gravy" for the RI readers) and melted mozzarella. It's one of Jeff's favorites.

I am submitting this post to the Ellie of Kitchen Wench who is hosting a lovely once-off event: Nostalgia Tastes Bittersweet. Also, for another springtime frittata recipe, check out Toni's asparagus frittata at Daily Bread Journal.

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I could go for broccoli rabe. I hope I'm not pregnant.

I'm craving broccoli rabe. No, Mom, I’m not pregnant.

Broccoli rabe, also called rapini, is an Italian vegetable that is actually not related to broccoli at all. It's more like a cousin of the turnip, hence its bold, bitter flavor.

My sister-in-law is also craving broccoli rabe, and she is very pregnant. I was a bit surprised to learn this (no, not that she's pregnant; that it's broccoli rabe she's craving). You see, Dee is a born and bred Southern girl: petite, with liquid blue eyes, natural blonde hair, and the ever slightest, sweet Southern twang. When I think of broccoli rabe, I think of cold New England weather, 6- foot tall hungry brothers, and crusty Italian bread. It was often a lunch my mother would serve my father and two brothers.

This coming Saturday is Dee’s baby shower in Atlanta. She and Jason (one of Jeff's brothers) are expecting a little girl in May; she will be the first new baby in Jeff’s family. You can imagine the anticipation.

I assume the broccoli rabe craving is the result of Jason's Italian heritage rubbing off on Dee. He speaks Italian and is an outstanding cook who could take on Molto Mario in an Iron Chef challenge of meats. Jason, however, wouldn’t be caught dead in orange clogs. Or clogs of any color. He’s much more of an Armani kind of guy.

Jason's love of Italian cooking and meats stems both from his mom and from his (and Jeff’s) first jobs at Tom’s Deli on Charles Street. I love to hear them reminisce about making grinders, veal parm, and chicken marsala, and about eating the scraps of sliced prosciutto that were unsuitable for the customers. Apparently, there were a lot of unsuitable scraps.

Ironically both brothers married vegetarians; needless to say, culinary compromise is key in both houses. For instance, though Jeff and I both love broccoli rabe, he has to have his with some good Italian sausage while I like mine simply paired with crispy polenta.

So, Jason and Dee, I have decided to post two recipes featuring broccoli rabe. For us vegetarians, I offer sautéed broccoli rabe on crispy polenta with a rosemary and goat cheese sauce. And for carnivores, a classic, no-frills, Italian sandwich: crunchy Ciabatta bread topped with pan seared Italian sausage, broccoli rabe, and sharp provolone. I hope they will be a marriage made in heaven.

I was also wondering, did any of you crave broccoli rabe when you were pregnant? If not, what did you crave?

Broccoli Rabe (Rapini) on Crispy Polenta with a Rosemary-Goat Cheese Sauce

Print recipe only here.

Polenta:
1 cup yellow polenta
2 cups water
2 cups milk (low fat is ok)
2 tsp butter
2 tsp olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 Tbsp, plus 1 tsp olive for pan-searing

Combine the water, milk, butter, oil, and salt and pepper in a medium saucepan; bring to a boil. Slowly pour in the polenta and whisk. The polenta will start to bubble and spit pretty quickly. Place a cover on it, askew; reduce to a low simmer, and stir a couple of times, making sure to scrape the pan so the polenta doesn’t stick. Since it will be pan-seared, I shorten the cooking time to 10-15 minutes.

Coat a 9-inch pie plate or other round dish with cooking spray. Pour the cooked polenta in it, and smooth with a knife. Cover with foil, and place in the fridge for at least an hour (or even overnight if you want to plan ahead). Once chilled, it will easily slice into 8 pie slices.

When ready to pan sear the polenta, add 1 Tbsp, plus 1 tsp. olive oil to a non-stick skillet. Add the polenta slices and sear on each side for 4-5 minutes, until golden brown and crispy.

Broccoli rabe:
1 large bunch broccoli rabe (stems removed)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 minced garlic clove (optional)
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
Sea salt, to taste

Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Boil broccoli rabe for 1- 1 ½ minutes; drain. Plunge in a bowl of ice water. Shocking the rabe will maintain its vivid green color and stop them from cooking.

In a skillet, add olive oil. Add garlic, and sauté until it turns golden. Add broccoli rabe, crushed red pepper, and salt. Sauté 1-2 minutes more. Remove from heat.

Rosemary-Goat Cheese Sauce:
1/2 cup cream or half n’half
4 oz. soft goat cheese
1 Tbsp. minced fresh rosemary
A few cranks of freshly ground black pepper

2 Tbsp toasted chopped walnuts for garnish

For the goat cheese sauce, combine all ingredients in a small skillet, and heat 2-3 minutes, or until sauce is smooth and creamy.

To toast walnuts, place in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 5 minutes, shaking the handle slightly to toast nuts evenly. Remove when slightly golden and aromatic.

To serve, pour goat cheese sauce on each plate. Top with 2 slices of crispy polenta, 1/4 of the broccoli rabe, and 1/4 of the toasted walnuts. Garnish with some chopped fresh rosemary. Makes 4 servings.

Broccoli Rabe and Sausage Sandwich with Sharp Provolone
Print recipe only here.

1 small bunch broccoli rabe, stems removed
1 small minced garlic clove, optional
2 tsp olive oil
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
Salt, to taste

1 small 8-9 inch loaf crusty Italian bread (I like Ciabatta)
2 tsp olive oil
4 slices sharp Provolone cheese
Some crushed red pepper

2 links Italian sausage
1 tsp olive oil

Bring a large saucepan of salted water to a boil. Boil broccoli rabe for 1-1 ½ minutes; drain. Plunge in a bowl of ice water. Shocking the rabe will maintain its vivid green color and stop them from cooking.

In a skillet, add 2 tsp olive oil and garlic. Sauté until garlic starts to turn golden. Add broccoli rabe, crushed red pepper, and salt. Sauté 1-2 minutes more. Remove from heat.

Slice loaf in half to make 2 sandwiches. Brush the center of the bread with the olive oil. Place under the broiler for 3-4 minutes, or until golden and crunchy.

Slice sausage links in half. Add 1 tsp olive oil to a skillet, and pan sear 5-7 minutes per side, or until they are brown and crispy.

To make the sandwiches, add the provolone cheese to the hot bread. Top with sausage and broccoli rabe. Season with crushed red pepper and salt. Serve right away while the cheese is hot and melty.

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What's in Your Basement?

Peter John is my favorite cousin. He has a knack for saying, in a hilarious manner, what everyone else is thinking. At a family dinner he once joked that in the event of World War III, after the nuclear fall out, he would somehow manage to make it to my dad’s house, because it would be the only place left in Rhode Island that wouldn't run out of food.

It's true. My dad has a large basement whose food contents could rival that of any Super Stop n’ Shop or Costco. I am not sure if this is an Italian thing, or a 1950's bomb shelter thing, or because he grew up in a large family where money was not plentiful but manual labor was. I could write several posts about his canning tomatoes, pickling peppers, and stuffing sausages his whole life. I suspect there is a part of him hard-wired to always have ample amounts of food stored. Trust me, he does.

Although I haven’t been in my parents’ basement since Christmas, I'm certain there are, right now, at least 25 boxes of Barilla pasta, 30 cans of San Marzano tomatoes, 5 cases of bottled water, a dozen boxes of cereal, a half a wheel of Reggiano-Parmigiano cheese, 10 gallons of olive oil, and 20 cans of cannelini beans. Whenever we ask him what he’s going to do with all that food, he invariably responds, “It’s food. It’ll never go to waste. Somebody will eat it.” Somebody always does -- primarily because he gives most of it away.

My dad is a truly generous person, especially when it comes to food. He gives away turkeys at holidays, shares countless bottles of his best wine with friends and family, and delivers crates full of fresh produce, meats, and cheeses to his children. He gets pleasure out of sharing food with others.

Since we’ve moved away, he has sent us scores of care packages. Invariably, there will be a bottle of olive oil because he knows that I love it. From light and fruity to bold and grassy, there isn’t one that I won’t try. I don't remember the last time I actually had to buy a bottle in the store; the shipments always seem to arrive just in time. Which is why I was stunned to realize that I have never made an olive oil cake. I mean really, I should be ashamed to call myself Italian.

Well, this past Sunday I made my first olive oil cake. The recipe is adapted from Sarah Perry’s Holiday Baking: New and Traditional Recipes for Wintertime Holidays. To make it savory, I added fresh lemon, rosemary, black pepper, and Dad's Reggiano-Parmigiano.

It was lovely paired with an arugula and ricotta frittata as well as with a goat cheese, olive, and sun-dried tomato spread. I must say, I can't wait to make it again as it was ultra moist, dense, and delicious. The only missing part was sharing a piece with Dad.



Olive Oil Cake with Rosemary and LemonPrint recipe only here.

Basic cake recipe:1 ¼ c all-purpose flour
¼ tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
2 eggs, at room temperature
1 c sugar
½ cup fruity extra-virgin olive oil
¾ cup milk

Additions:2-3 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary
The zest of 2 small lemons
The juice of 1 small lemon
1 cup grated Reggiano-Parmigiano
Several cranks of freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 350. Line a 10-inch loaf pan or 9-inch round pan with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

In another medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar until well blended, about 1 minute. Whisk in the olive oil and milk.

Whisk the egg mixture into the flour mixture until thoroughly blended. Gently mix in the rosemary, lemon zest, lemon juice, black pepper, and Reggiano-Parmigiano.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake until the cake is firm and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Transfer the pan to a rack to cool for about 20 minutes before removing the cake.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

This tree is outside our bedroom, and every morning by the time we awake, the fragrance perfumes the entire room. This picture was taken from my window early one morning. I used the lemons in the cake.

When the Moon Hits Your Eye, Like A Big Broccolini Pie, That's Amore

When Jeanne from Cook Sister! announced that pies would be the topic for this month’s Waiter, there’s something in my… food blog event, I knew exactly what I was going to make.

Where I grew up, every neighborhood was dotted with family-run bakeries and pizzerias. Just walking along the famed Federal Hill, the wafting aromas of freshly baked wood-fired pizzas and warm yeasty breads could make even the most carb-averse person swoon. And if the smell wasn't enough to entice you, then the sight was: crispy, steaming-hot breads, calzones, and pizzas proudly propped in the store windows beckoning you to come in and have one. And considering how many times I have been lured inside (especially at Buono’s and Crugnale’s Bakeries), I can assure you that they are impossible to resist.

Calzones are true comfort food. They quell your worst hunger and leave you feeling content. Their versatility of fillings ensures that there’s something for everyone to love. And best of all, for me, they do what comfort food should do: remind me of home.

My mom and I have made hundreds of calzones over the years; what’s funny is that we always called calzones filled with eggplant or sausage or meatballs "calzones," but calzones filled with spinach or broccoli were called "pies." Which got me thinking, what’s the difference? Nothing. Turns out a spinach or broccoli pie is just another name for a calzone.

The calzone, originated in Naples, Italy, is often referred to as a “turn-over” or "half-moon" and is made of pizza dough that is filled with cheeses, vegetables, and meats. Though mozzarella cheese is most commonly featured here in the US, many other types of cheese such as fresh ricotta, Provolone, and Parmesan are used as well. Calzones can be deep-fried, but I’ve always had baked. No matter the name, they all share one common trait: they are oh so satisfying.

I’m putting a little California twist on this recipe. Broccolini just debuted at the farmer’s market and is one of my favorite vegetables. As I learned last week, it is not merely young or baby broccoli; rather, it’s a hybrid of broccoli and Chinese kale. Broccolini are delicate, a svelte version of regular broccoli, and they have a beautiful grassy green color. Their flavor is reminiscent of broccoli but is distinctly sweeter, with a pleasing peppery aftertaste. In this recipe, its sweetness contrasts nicely with the rich sun-dried tomatoes, salty olives and cheese, and toasty pinenuts. Of course, you can substitute regular broccoli or the bolder broccoli rabe (rapini).


Broccolini and Sun-Dried Tomato Pie (or Calzone)

Print recipe only here.

2 tsp olive oil, plus 2 tsp for brushing on top of pies
1 pound pizza dough (brought to room temperature)
1/8 cup sun-dried tomatoes, thinly sliced (dry-packed or oil-soaked)
1/8 cup pine nuts, toasted
1 cup broccolini, chopped
¼ cup black olives, such as Cerignola and Kalamata
½ cup grated Parmesan Reggiano cheese
A few shakes of crushed red pepper
A few dashes of salt

Note: If you’re using dry-packed sun-dried tomatoes, then allow them to rest in warm water for 5 minutes before slicing.

To toast the pinenuts, place in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 1 minute or until golden brown. Shake the pan handle gently to ensure even toasting. Remove from heat.

In a large skillet, heat 2 tsp. olive oil; sauté broccolini for about 1-2 minutes until it turns bright green yet remains firm. Add remaining ingredients and gently mix. Heat for 1 minute more, then remove from heat. Taste the filling to adjust seasonings.

To form the pies:
Working on a lightly floured surface, divide the dough in half, and roll into two 8-10-inch ovals. For each piece of dough, put half of the broccolini mixture a bit above the center of the oval. Fold the dough to form a half-moon; seal the edges together by pressing down lightly. Then using your fingertips, fold the edge of the dough up, and pinch around the edge to create a seal. Brush them with the remaining 2 tsp of extra-virgin olive oil.

Baking pies on a baking sheet:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Bake on a rack in the lower third of the oven for about 20 minutes or until the bottom is browned. Then bump up the heat to 425, and move the pan to the upper third of the oven; bake an additional 15 minutes or until the top of the pie is golden brown and crispy.

Baking pies on a pizza stone:
Preheat the oven to 475-500 degrees, and heat the stone for at least 30 minutes. Cook pies directly on the heated stone for about 15 minutes or until both the bottoms and tops are golden brown and crispy.

1 pound of dough will make 2 large pies.

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Patriots' Potato Pizza

Like most Italian families, my mom did the cooking, my dad did the eating. There were however certain culinary “events” that my dad performed with gusto such as pickling, canning, and making homemade pasta. For a period in the mid-90’s, he started making pizzas, really good pizzas. One Sunday, most likely during a Patriots game, he came up with the idea for potato pizza. It was a hit then and continues to score touchdowns with everyone who eats it.

By the way, the Patriots beat San Diego today. I have mixed emotions. Growing up in Rhode Island, it was mandatory to root for the Patriots. Plus my Dad would’ve grounded me if I didn’t. Yet, Jeff and I have become Chargers’ fans and would have liked to see them win today. Actually, we’re already over it. This seems to be the way things are here in Southern California; when a professional sports team loses, it’s like, “So, you wanna go to the beach now?” Not so in New England. Take when the Red Sox lost to the Mets in ’86 for example. Jeff's family barely spoke for a week; there were no words for their grief. So, it’s probably a good thing that the Patriots won.

Having gotten completely frustrated with San Diego’s abysmal performance today, Jeff and I took a walk after the game. When we returned home, the answering machine was flashing “1 new message.” We hit play and heard my dad's voice: “What’s the matter Doc, you taking some aspirin for your headache after that great New England win over your unbeatable Chargers?” Did I also mention that New England fans rarely gloat?

Since Dad was on my mind today, I thought I’d make his potato pizza (the next best thing to watching the game with him). I used blue and white potatoes because I think it makes the pizza more visually appealing. Of course, I just realized that blue and white are the Patriots’ colors. Hmmm, maybe I subconsciously wanted them to win after all.


DAD’S POTATO PIZZA

Print this recipe here.

1 pound pizza dough
2 teaspoons olive oil, divided
1 shallot, sliced
¼ cup shredded part-skim milk mozzarella cheese
2 small potatoes of your choice, preferably a firmer variety
¼ cup crumbled gorgonzola or blue cheese
1 teaspoon fresh rosemary, chopped
Salt and pepper, to taste

Wash potatoes and pat dry. Microwave the whole potatoes for 2-3 minutes until soft enough to handle but firm enough to cut so they won’t crumble. Cut into ¼ inch-thick slices.

Heat half the olive oil in a skillet over medium heat; add shallots; cook 4-5 minutes until slightly browned.

Preheat oven (see temps below). Roll out dough on a lightly floured surface. Transfer to a sheet of parchment paper (if using a stone) or to a parchment lined baking sheet. Brush dough lightly with remaining olive oil. Place a thin layer of shredded mozzarella on the dough, then arrange potato slices on top. Season well with salt and pepper. Add crumbled gorgonzola or blue cheese, and lightly press it down with your hands.

For a pizza stone, bake at 500 degree for about 10 minutes, or until both the top and bottom of the crust is brown and the cheese is melted.

For a baking sheet, bake at 450 for about 20 minutes, or until both the top and bottom of the crust is brown and the cheese is melted. Let it cool for a couple of minutes before slicing.

Before serving, sprinkle pizza slices with chopped fresh rosemary and a bit more fresh ground black pepper.

TIP: Boiling the potatoes makes them too moist which leads to a soggy crust. Ugh. Microwaving or baking them are better bets. Also, adding the fresh rosemary after removing the pizza from the oven helps to maintain its color and flavor.

You might also like:
Homemade Barbecue Pizza
Broccoli and Sundried Tomato Calzone
Grilled Lobster
Grilled Lamb Sandwich
Risotto
Sunday Supper - Pasta with Meatballs and Sausage

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