I've recently been reading a thread about egg on pizza. The august intelligentsia's that were discussing this phenomena were trying to delve into the historical origin. Now I fully admit that I am not a collage professor nor do I ponder many whys and wherefores in the culinary world. I do read zillions of cookbooks and anything that mentions food.
With that said-egg on pizza seems to me to be a natural. I fantasized about my non-existent Italian grandmother who would forage for fresh eggs from our free range chickens, climb a ladder and cut down the drying prosciutto to slice paper thin pieces. She would send my fictitious brother Guido to the garden for sun warmed tomatoes and fragrant basil and parsley.There we were, sitting in the dimming light of our kitchen around the wood table covered with nicks and burns from previous generations. Our wood burning oven, stoked with wood we all had gathered was baking the pizza.What better healthy meal could this be?
It was Friday night at our house. A day that I set aside for "fun food". After my NSSP (Not So Silent Partner) suggested light food,-fish, chicken, rice- I suggested pizza. Having been on the road and eating with his sales crowd he mentioned having pizza the previous night. Not missing a marital beat however he said it could hardly compare to my homemade version. (you've got to love a smooth talker!!) At this point I hadn't told him of my burning urge to crack said egg on pizza and I thought it wise that he be lulled into thoughts of our usual Italian delight, sausage, mushroom, onion, and chiffonade basil.
My foodie neighbor and I call our favorite grocery store "church" and on Friday I crossed its threshold with a mission. Mumbling a litany of vegetables as I stroked them. "Ah... fresh peas!! they must go with something! and what's this a pile of fava beans?? Vidalia onions? Oh, my." But wait! I looked at my watch and realized that I couldn't make my own dough in time and I would have to buy fresh dough. Slipping into high gear I dashed the outer edges of church genuflecting and grabbing ingredients.
Only 6 thin slices of prosciutto, 3 ripe tomatoes, a bag of basil, 2 handfuls of crimini mushrooms, fresh mozzarella, pizza dough and away I went. I quickly unloaded the groceries at home and turned on our "pizza oven" (wondering how hot the oven ever got). And then the question-
"What kind of pizza are we having tonight?" I put on my best happy voice and launched into my quest for egg pizza. It was met with curiosity, a shrug, and when's dinner. Left alone with my ingredients I began my inner dialogue in earnest.
"What goes first? How to layer the ingredients? Should egg be whole and fried? Broken yolk? Scrambled? Cheese on top? Basil? Is the G## D###m oven hot yet?
Here are the answers to these burning questions and more...
I stretched out two pizza doughs into rectangles put thin ribbons of proscuitto on top, sliced tomatoes, random sliced mushrooms and very finely diced vidalia onions. Chopped parsley and basil next. Little orbs of fresh mozerella. I put the pizza in the oven for a couple of minutes to firm up then cracked the eggs on top. At the last minute I made the decision to break the yolk not trusting my oven to cook the egg before burning the dough.
The result? A very rich and filling dish with all of the components of an American breakfast. Served with salad, fruit, and wine we watched HBO's"Rome".
Hail Caesar! and Bon Appetit!