It was the fall of 2011 and my first trip to Italy. I was recently divorced and my siblings and I had decided it was the perfect time to make the trip together. Before long, my father and stepmother joined the fray, followed by my nephew and his wife. All told, eight of us on a two week trip, first in Florence, then in Torca, a small town in Massa Lubrense on the Amalfi Coast. Given our group size, we were able to chip in for villas at each destination.

The villa in Florence was amazing, a 14th century villa on the outskirts of town. I was, and still am smitten with Florence and will always consider it my favorite place in the world. I could have spent the entire two weeks in Florence, but my older sister had made a pretty good case for spending time in southern Italy.

The villa in Torca was modern and had large terraces that overlooked the Mediterranean. On one side of the terrace stood a large wood oven and barbecue area. I asked the property owner about the oven and whether we could use it. No, he said, but we could hire a pizza chef for an evening to make pizza. Fortunately, my family was all in so we pitched in to hire the chef for one night.

Up until this point, I had made pizza at various times in my life with varying success. Most was about what you would expect out of a home oven. I had gotten into sourdough about 10 years prior and had been making a form of deep dish pizza with some success - the family liked it anyway - but it wasn't anything I was passionate about.

I was nonetheless intrigued about the wood oven although I don't know that I even had much exposure to Neapolitan pizza. Although we had taken the train into Naples on our way to Torca, we were in the city less than an hour before we took off down the coast. So, no opportunity to try the legendary pizza there.

There weren't a lot of food options in Torca, but up the hill, Sant'Agata Due Golfi had a number of good restaurants, so we headed up the hill for dinner every night and aside from a day trip to a fisherman's cove (Marina di Crapolla) one day and another to Capri, we mostly hung out enjoying the slower pace of the small towns (and Sud in general). 

On the day of our Pizza night, the pizza chef, Claudio, showed up in the afternoon to start the fire and tend it long enough to get a good solid fire to start the preheat. We were starting to congregate around the oven when the chef said he was leaving to let the oven heat up. His buddy worked for the property owner and they disappeared (we found out later to the bar) until around 8:00 pm. We were now solidly on Italian time.

I made the mistake of thinking I was already a pro with dough and missed out on a great opportunity to learn from him on his recipe and process. I know I have missed out on learning opportunities when I think I've learned all I need to on a subject. Fortunately, that was the only area I didn't pick his brain on.

 Looking back at pictures from the evening, the pizzas weren't typical Neopolitan style. Fortunately, my nephew's wife took a lot of great pictures and I was reminded we were making mostly rectangular pizzas without a large cornicione. The toppings were all Napoli with local San Marzano tomatoes and mozzarella bufala. I want to say Claudio told us this was how pizza at home in Naples was made, but that might just be my wine saturated memory of the evening.

The cool thing about the evening was that we each made at least one pizza, from stretching the dough all the way through cooking and serving. I don't know why I don't do that when I make pizza. For those that had problems launching or turning the pizzas, it was all in good fun and we all cheered and consoled our successes and failures. By actively participating it made the evening even more memorable.

We started with the dough balls that were maybe 250 to 270g and we had to stretch them out to fit the oblong wooden peel. This resulted in a pretty thin pizza. From there, we moved the peel over to toppings and could select from traditional sauce (his mother's secret recipe) or get more creative. We had free reign to create whatever we wanted after being coached that we should ignore that American urge to load it up with toppings. 

In retrospect, we did pretty good considering the hurdles we faced. We had very thin pizzas, rectangular at that, that we had to stretch, top, and launch quickly before the toppings soaked through and the dough started sticking to the peel. Then we had to turn the pizzas, precise peel work that was a first for all of us, and then be able to pull it out when done.

When it was my turn, I had the benefit of seeing what to do and not do. I don't know if I had figured out by then that the traditional sauce made the dough a little too wet and thus, more prone to tearing while launching and turning, but I went with a safe topping combination of sausage, mozzarella, and olive oil.

I don't typically have all that great of luck. In fact, my father has said that if I didn't have bad luck, I would have no luck at all. However, on that warm night in Southern Italy, I had amazing luck. Beginner's luck to be sure, but good luck all the same.

I've botched a launch more times than I can count. Screwed up a turn almost as many times. Dropped a few pizzas on the ground and a handful of times got to talking so much that I've forgotten I had a pizza in the oven. 

That night, it all went perfect. The peels felt perfectly natural and I somehow knew just the right motion to launch the pizza and pull away leaving the pizza in perfect form. I went to do the first turn and saw (more like felt) that it was sticking and then waited a bit to try again. This time, the bottom was a little more done and lifted easily from the floor. A quick spin and then another. Pulling it from the oven just as easily. Beginner's luck all the way. 

The whole evening was magical. Finally being in Italy after decades of dreaming about it. With family at a time when everyone was in sync and everyone was enjoying one another. The beautiful evening with the spectacle of fire, excellent food and wine. We would leave a few days later, back to the same old routine, but that night will stay with us forever.

For me, it began my journey to uncover my inner pizzaiolo. I've always loved the show, the presentation and memorable pizzas I serve, but in writing this missive I realized that I missed the key elements that made that night so special. It was the participation by everyone in creating, then cooking their own pizza. Claudio was undoubtedly a great pizzaiolo, but his greatest talent was in sharing the experience so we were all actively engaged and not just a passive audience. 

I'm still learning and now I know where I go next.