![]() Photo by Katie Voghtīut that still doesn’t explain how deep dish became synonymous with Chicago. ![]() The spread at Flo & Santos, complete with sausages and pierogi. ![]() It’s delicious, but there’s no real showmanship involved in its making-no big fires or smell of burning wood in the air. His pizzas are crunchy, with mozzarella cheese toasted orange and gold in the style of an Impressionist’s painting of an autumn day. “That has a real big impact on the flavor and how the pizza comes out,” says Pat Fowler, co-owner and general manager of Candlelite, a Rogers Park institution since 1950. Then there’s the oven: Most places use the very unsexy stainless-steel deck ovens that usually cook with gas or electricity-a very practical, get-the-job-done-right appliance. “With big companies, you become a number.” They’re not going to change their name is on that product,” she says. “I only use small independent businesses. (Many tavern pies only have a single topping so the thin crust won’t break under the weight.) George proudly states that Vito & Nick’s has been sourcing its ingredients from the same local family purveyors for as long as the pizzeria has been around. Most agree that the sausage, another point of Chicago pride, must come as little hand-rolled gobs with bits of charred fennel seed. Porter claims that getting the mozzarella from the Mancuso family in Joliet is “essential.” Some restaurants boast of using organic tomatoes in their homemade sauce, while others rely on cans of Stanislaus. More than a half century later, these taverns are still the best places to get a truly good Chicago pie, nestled in the same spots since they first cranked up their ovens. Something you don’t fill up on, so you can get home and eat a real dinner.” This explains one theory for the moniker “tavern style,” named for those pre–smoking ban rooms populated by working-class immigrants unwinding after a shift-spaces where neon signs, red plastic pitchers of watery beer, and thin-pies put out as a cheap snack to munch on (and as an encouragement to keep drinking) were all standard fare. “You have a beer in one hand and something to eat in the other. ![]() “It’s an original Chicago creation,” boasts Steve Dolinsky, Chicago food writer, television personality, and author of the book Pizza City, USA. Yet, for some reason, people outside the city hardly seem to know the style even exists. Some call it “party cut,” others say it’s “tavern style,” but to locals, it’s just “pizza.” Ask around, and most Chicagoans will tell you that the city’s greatest pies aren’t made in deep pans drowning in layers of cheese and meat at tourist traps like Uno and Lou Malnati’s. Instead, I took it as a small win for the Chicagoland area’s underappreciated contribution to the American pizza map: A circular pie with really thin crust, all cut into tiny squares. I could have been offended, but I wasn’t. A few minutes later I checked my comments and saw a response posted from a friend in Brooklyn: “Is that the way Chicago pizza is sliced? That is insanity.” When I finally sat down among the birthday parties and family dinners, and my pizza made it to my table, I did what many of us tend to do these days: I Instagrammed my meal. Not taking into account it was the start of the weekend, I drove around the small parking lot for ten minutes before a spot opened up. When I recently found myself in the neighborhood at 5:30 on a Friday night, hungry and without dinner plans, I decided to stop into the popular local restaurant on my way back to the city. Sprinkle top evenly with grated Parm.īake, rotating halfway through, until golden around the edge, about 25 minutes.I grew up knowing the Chicagoland suburb of Northbrook for a few things: its pee-wee hockey team, bar mitzvahs, and the pizza at Barnaby’s. Top with a couple handfuls of crushed tomatoes. Cover half with a thin, even layer of raw sausage. Cover entire bottom in mozzarella, all the way up to the edge. Using your hands, spread out about three-quarters of the dough across the bottom and up the sides of the pan (save the remainder for another use). Position an oven rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 450 degrees F.Ĭoat bottom and sides of a 12-inch cake pan or traditional Chicago style pizza pan with melted butter. Punch down and let dough settle for 15 more minutes. Transfer to a lightly oiled bowl and proof until doubled in size, about 6 hours. Knead on low speed with the dough hook for 90 seconds. Gently combine with a rubber spatula until a rough ball is formed. Once yeast has bloomed, add to dry ingredients along with corn oil. Combine flour, salt and cream of tartar in the bowl of a stand mixer. Mix sugar, yeast and 11 ounces room temperature water (about 80 degrees) in a bowl and let bloom for 15 minutes.
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