pizza

It's lunchtime, folks, and you know what that means. We're back at it again in the pinkbelly kitchen with yet another meal that's sure to both bewilder and satisfy.

Something you may or may not have noticed: in addition to adhering to a strictly vegan code of ethics when it comes to our recipes, we also keep them all 100% gluten-free. As an Italian woman who bleeds not only red but white and green as well, you can probably imagine just how limiting these two parameters can be at times. This is mostly due to the fact that nearly every famous Italian dish involves bread, pasta, or cheese. Usually all three.

I've only been trying out the whole vegan thing for a very short while, but believe me when I say it's been a much longer time since my last bite of real spaghetti. This causes me great pain but also encourages me to exercise my creativity whenever I feel the call of the wild.

Today, I had a hankering for pizza, and instead of rolling over and giving up, I made it happen. And now, I'm going to help you do the same.

This recipe contains three major sub-recipes. The ingredients for each are as follows:

for the crust:

half a cup of rice flour

half a cup of chickpeas, soaked and boiled

two tablespoons of olive oil

salt

for the ricotta:

half a block of firm tofu

one quarter red onion

three tablespoons of nutritional yeast

three tablespoons of unsweetened non-dairy milk

a clove of garlic

a handful of kale

a squirt of lemon

salt

for the "sauce":

three tablespoons of olive oil

one tablespoon of tomato paste

one tablespoon of mixed italian herbs

half a clove of garlic

fresh basil

salt

black pepper

for the top:

one roma tomato, and whatever else you like

Let's get on with it.

If you've been with us these last few days, I've already shown you how to cook chickpeas. I'm not going to link you to the recipe. Figure it out. Toss them in along with the flour, oil, and salt. Shred.

Pulse and scrape down the sides until you're left with a homogenous mixture; you may want to add a splash or two of water to achieve the ideal consistency. You want it a bit sticky. Any drier and you're gonna be making a cracker, not a crust. Grease down a parchment-lined baking sheet and dump.

Hell yeah. She's lookin' mushy, just the way we want her. Use a spatula and try your best to make a pizza rectangle, like so.

The more environmentally-conscious among you will probably consider skipping the parchment paper. While this is a sound desire objectively, I unfortunately cannot recommend it for this purpose; we're going to pre-bake the crust and flip it before we top it, and in the past I've found that a naked tray does not lend itself to this technique. This is because we're not making a real fucking pizza; this is a fake pizza. There's no gluten in there to hold this thing together, so we need to take every opportunity we can to strengthen the pie structurally. Get your oven pre-heated to 350° and stick it in for about fifteen minutes.

On to the toppings. We're gonna try doing the ricotta first.

Now, obviously, we're not going to be using real ricotta for this pizza. The main component of our shitty fake cheese is going to be tofu, which I've already cubed and tossed into the blender-cup. Before we're ready to whiz, however, we must do a bit of prep-work with this small bowl of onion and garlic. Throw them into a non-stick pan along with a touch of oil and a pinch of salt and pepper. Gently brown them for a few minutes.

Looking back, it probably would have been a good idea to wilt the greens in here, too, but I didn't. Not a big deal. It's all going down the pipe to the same place, I guess. That place of course being my colon.

Everything in. Feeling strong. Do NOT forget the milk and nooch.

Here it is. It looks and tastes absolutely nothing like real ricotta, but it'll do. Let it hang in the fridge while you prepare the rest.

This part is actually kind of embarrassing, and it's also something I had never tried before attempting to throw together this particular pizza on this particular day. I didn't have any canned tomatoes. I thought I could beat the system. Combine the olive oil and spice mix in your bowl.

Have you ever been to an Italian restaurant? Do you know the herbed dipping oil some of them put out with the table bread? That's what this part kind of reminded me of when I finally had it laid out in front of me. This was the point in the process where I was tangibly starting to lose faith in this idea. Chop up your basil. Press your garlic. Throw both of those things in and add the salt, pepper, and tomato paste. Get those little red dog turds in there. Whisk thoroughly.

By this point your crust should be done and ready for her big moment, so grab another baking pan. This part can be tricky, so listen carefully.

In an effort to only use one piece of parchment, I gently shook it out from underneath the dough. Place it oil-side up on the second sheet. Make a sandwich with both, empty tray on top, and, with great caution, flip. The exact action itself is kind of hard to describe; the idea is that the whole piece inside should land on the second pan all at once, as opposed to one side at a time. You want this thing to still be in one piece when all is said and done, otherwise it's gonna be pizza corners for lunch at work all week. And nobody wants that.

Not bad. We have caused a bit of collateral damage, but nothing insurmountable. Cut your tomato up into thin slices. Now comes the fun part. It's time for some adult finger-painting.

Just kidding, I used a fucking spoon. The order of application should be obvious and self-explanatory, but if you've never eaten a piece of pizza before and are unsure, I suggest going sauce first, ricotta, and then tomato. In that order.

Oh, boy. That looks bleak as hell. In an effort to dress her up a bit, I sprinkled some nutritional yeast on top in a sick effort to mimic the effect of romano cheese. I should have tried dolloping the ricotta or something instead of spreading it cream-cheese style like an idiot. Try your best to even out the edges with your big knife. Back into the inferno she goes.

I won't lie. It came out prettier than it went in. This looks nothing like a real pizza; it reminds me more of a savory, open-faced poptart in terms of appearance.

To say that this tastes like normal pizza when consumed out of hand would be an outright lie. With that being said, I can confidently attest to the fact that it...contains?...all of the essential individual flavors that pizza is known for. So in that sense, I do consider it a success.

I've been eating it crumbled over greens, I call the dish pizza salad. It almost feels like the real thing, and at the end of the day, I think that's really all a woman can ask for. Happy thirsty Thursday, team.