pizza

There are plenty of reasons why a person might choose to prepare or grow food at home rather than buy it at a store or restaurant:  to save money; because homemade or homegrown tastes better, or is better for you, or is better for the environment; or because you simply enjoy it. I, for one, regularly bake my own bread, mostly because I like doing it, but also because it tastes great, if you'll pardon my saying so.
But there are things that I'd rather buy than make myself. Some are obvious. I like a good hamburger or steak now and then, but I'm not about to raise and slaughter my own cattle.
Others are less so. After trying and failing several times to make perfect french fries at home, I've decided to leave that to the experts at Mickey D's and elsewhere. I'm sure there are reasons why that's a bad idea, but the bottom line is, theirs taste better, and it's a pain in the butt to make them at home.
Now comes a book that breaks it all down for you. At least that's the premise of Make the Bread, Buy the Butter, by Jennifer Reese. According to the book-jacket blurb, after losing her job, Reese "began a series of kitchen-related experiments, taking into account the competing demands of everyday contemporary American family life," seeking to answer such questions as "When is homemade better? Cheaper? Are backyard eggs a more ethical choice than store-bought? Will grinding and stuffing your own sausage ruin your week? Is it possible to make an edible maraschino cherry?"
This makes for interesting reading, although it will be a rare reader who agrees with all of Reese's suggestions. I take issue with two of her verdicts, on pizza and baguettes. She recommends making the former, and buying the latter. I've nothing against making pizza at home - I do it myself, with some regularity - but there are times when you want to pick up a pizza, for the sake of convenience or variety. I mean, I think I make some pretty good pizza, but sometimes I want pizza from a particular pizzeria, that I just can't duplicate at home.
As for baguettes, I don't find them much trouble at all. Sure, I'm always tweaking my recipes and methods, in an endless quest for la baguette parfaite, but there's really not all that much work involved in producing excellent loaves at home. I'm not sure why Reese's attempts have met with such disappointing results, but that points up one of the flaws in this book. Reese tends to extrapolate too much from her own personal experiences. Regarding baguettes, for instance, she confesses that "after years of experimenting," she has come to the conclusion that she is not a "serious bread hobbyist." But I'm equally convinced, from my own experience, that you needn't be a "serious" baker to make terrific bread - in fact, in some ways I find baguettes easier than sandwich loaves, which Reese recommends making, not buying.
Likewise, Reese relates a horror story of her failed attempt to raise egg-laying ducks, but half way through, she admits to having figured out that she and her family are simply not "duck people." We have ducks at my house, and though my wife and daughter are their primary caretakers, I pitch in, and I think they would agree with me that the ducks really aren't much trouble. Of course they're not for everybody, but if you've done your homework, then once you're set up, you shouldn't have nearly as difficult a time of it as Reese apparently did.
Having said all that, there's still a lot to recommend about this book. Reese breaks down the relative costs and hassle of homemade vs. store-bought, and though I haven't done my own calculations, her numbers mostly sound about right.
The best part of the book, for me, was the recipes. At least for those items that she does recommend making at home, Reese provides simple how-tos that walk you through the process. Now it's easy enough to find recipes for just about anything today, but until I'd leafed through this book, I'd never seriously considered making my own caramel corn or Worcestershire sauce, much less the Korean condiment kimchi. But after reading Reese's recipes, they do sound easy enough, and as I write this I'm in the middle of making homemade mustard from Reese's recipe.
I only wish that Reese had included similar recipes for the items she doesn't recommend making yourself, just so I could judge for myself whether it might be worth trying. What she typically does instead is again to relate her own ill-fated attempts to make a dish, and based on that, to advise against trying it yourself. (She does give recipes for a few things, like onion rings and bacon, about which she doesn't take a hard, make-it-or-buy-it position, leaving it up to you to decide.)
On the plus side, I should add that I have made some things in here, like hot sauce and barbecue sauce, and I completely agree with Reese that they're easy and cheap to make at home, with results that are at least as good as anything you'll buy at a supermarket.
So while I don't agree with all of Reese's verdicts, I still enjoyed, and do enjoy, thumbing through this book. It's more valuable for what she does recommend preparing at home than for what she doesn't, but it's generally a fun read. Even when I find myself disagreeing with Reese, she's at least gotten me thinking, which in itself is one mark of a good book, particularly when the subject is one about which people are as opinionated and passionate as they are about food.
Make the Bread, Buy the Butter: What You Should and Shouldn't Cook from Scratch -- Over 120 Recipes for the Best Homemade Foods. Jennifer Reese (author). 304 pages. Free Press (Oct. 18, 2011).

Rochester has an embarrassment of riches where Italian restaurants are concerned, with everything from old school, "red sauce" places to higher-end establishments that aim to take Italian food to the level of high art.
Mario's on Monroe Avenue falls somewhere in the middle, with items ranging from spaghetti and meatballs to pricier fare like osso bucco and cioppino, with a touch of steakhouse on the menu as well.
And pizza, which is what drew me here on a recent weeknight for dinner. Although it's listed under antipasti on the menu, I made an entree out of Mario's Margherita pizza, which is described as a "crispy thin crust stone oven style, [with] fresh tomatoes [and] fresh buffalo mozzarella."
The thin-to-medium crust was pale on the bottom, with some faint markings that could've been from a grill or other cooking surface. The edge was dry and crunchy, but the rest of the crust was lifeless, with little evidence of yeast activity, and a doughy flavor. I wondered if Mario's uses frozen crusts.
The slices of fresh mozzarella were evenly distributed, spoke-fashion, around the pizza, and were nicely melted, with a smooth, creamy texture. Although not mentioned on the menu, there was also a layer of what appeared to be low-moisture, processed mozzarella underneath. It was rather dry and didn't add a whole lot of flavor or texture.
Between the two layers of cheese were some thick slices of fresh tomato. Unfortunately these were quite bland, contributing little other than color. Some shredded basil, which appeared to have been added after the pizza came out of the often, added some complexity to the overall flavor profile, though most of it had been piled onto one side of the pie.
Overall, this pizza tasted all right, though it was a bit on the bland side. I was glad that I accepted my server's offer of some grated Parmesan.
But the biggest problem was the crust. It just had nothing going for it, in terms of flavor, texture or otherwise. That was disappointing, given the menu's reference to the crust being "stone oven style" (I'm not sure what stone oven "style" means, but it sounded promising.)
It was doubly disappointing because Mario's other food seemed pretty good. I only had a salad, in addition to my pizza, but I couldn't help stealing a few glances at my neighbors' plates, which looked quite appetizing, and for much of my meal I was treated to a wonderful aroma that I'm guessing came from Mario's grilled steaks (I meant to ask my server if she could identify it for me, but I forgot).
So while I would put Mario's on my mental list of places to revisit, I can't recommend it for the pizza alone. If they are using frozen crusts, well, not much you can do to improve those. But if they are using fresh dough, it seems to me it needs to rise a little longer, and be baked at higher temperatures, because this wasn't that great. I'll give it a C-minus.
Mario's Italian Steakhouse and Catering, 2740 Monroe Ave.
Tel.: 271-1111
Winter hours (Nov. 1 - April 30): Mon. - Thu. 5 p.m. - 9:30 p.m., Fri. 5 p.m. - 10:30 p.m., Sat. 4 p.m. - 10:30 p.m., Sun. brunch 10 a.m. - 3 p.m., dinner 4:30 p.m. - 9 p.m.
Summer hours (May 1 - Oct. 31): Mon. - Thu. 5 p.m. - 10 p.m., Fri. 5 p.m. - 11 p.m., Sat. 4 p.m. - 11 p.m., Sun. brunch 10 a.m. - 3 p.m., dinner 4:30 p.m. - 9 p.m.

I was recently driving through Dansville, and the sight of two pizzerias just a few doors from each other was more than I could resist.
The first one to catch my eye, and the first one I stopped at, was Tony's Pizzeria.
When I arrived, I saw a large pie behind the counter, half cheese, half pepperoni, cut into slices. When I asked for a cheese slice, the person behind the counter lifted one of them up to show me that it was enormous - about a quarter of a large pie - and asked if I wanted one of those, or a regular slice.
I still intended to check out Tony's competitor down the street, so I asked for a regular slice.
That oversized slice was quite thin, and I think that the employee did mention that it was Tony's "huge thin slice," but I was more focused on the surface area, so I was surprised to find that my regular slice was not only smaller, but much thicker.
But more about that slice in a moment. After getting my slice to go, I walked down the block to my second stop, The Leaning Tower. This slice took a little longer to come up, but I was not surprised, as a sign above the counter warned that they do not serve fast food - everything is made to order - although they do their best to serve your food fast. Fair enough.
This slice was quite thick as well. It was also a little bit bigger than the slice I got at Tony's (although in terms of surface area it still would've been dwarfed by Tony's "huge thin slice." (In the top photo, the LT slice is on the left, Tony's on the right.)
Although the Tony's and Leaning Tower slices were both about the same thickness, that's where the similarities ended. The Tony's slice was quite pale underneath, with just a little light browning. It was on the soft side, with a light, airy texture. In contrast, the Leaning Tower slice had a very dark brown underside, and was crunchy, though not oily, with a more substantial feel to it. The exterior was so crunchy, in fact, that the slice cracked and nearly broke in two when I bent it a little (don't even think about folding these - they're too thick for that).
The differences extended to the sauce and cheese. The LT slice was topped with considerably more sauce, which had a thicker consistency as well. It also seemed to have a more assertive, herbal flavor than Tony's sauce, but it's hard to tell if the flavor was really that much different, or if I simply noticed it more because there was more of it.
If you like smooth, creamy-textured cheese on your pizza, then the edge on that score goes to Tony's. Its cheese was nicely melted, if a little bland. The cheese on the LT slice was not so well melted, although it did have a bit of a tang, flavorwise.
Both Tony's and Leaning Tower have similar setups and menus, with counter service, some seating, and a more or less standard lineup of food offerings, including subs, wings, and sides. As for the pizza, well, I would like to go back to Tony's sometime and try a "Huge Thin Slice," but putting these two slices up against each other, I'd give the edge to Leaning Tower. Although the crust was a tad brittle, it was crisper, and had a little more flavor underneath. It also seemed better balanced, with a thick layer of sauce to match the thickness of the crust. Tony's cheese was more pleasingly melted, nice and smooth, but lacked flavor. Leaning Tower's cheese didn't have a great texture, but it did have more flavor, as did the sauce. In general the Leaning Tower slice was more flavorful overall, and more distinctive too. I'm scoring this one B-minus for Leaning Tower, C for Tony's.

Tony's Pizzeria, 140 Main St., Dansville
Tel.: (585) 335-8984, 335-5035
Hours: Mon., Wed., & Thu. 11 a.m. - 9 p.m., Tue., Fri. & Sat. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m., Sun. noon - 9 p.m.

The Leaning Tower, 124 Main St., Dansville
Tel.: (585) 335-2740
Hours: Mon. - Thu. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m., Fri. 11 a.m. - midnight, Sat. 11 a.m. - 11 p.m., Sun. noon - 10 p.m.

I did a post the other day about Veltre's, a defunct bakery that sold bread and pizza from the 1930s up to about 2000. That got me thinking about the conventional wisdom holding that pizza took off in this country in the late 1940s, as soldiers returning from Italy wanted the "pizza pies" they'd developed a taste for overseas. Typical is the statement I found on this website that "The post-WWII years exposed millions of American GI's to pizza in Italy."
Now beyond the fact that it doesn't make any sense to say that the post-WWII years exposed American soldiers to pizza in Italy, I have some doubts about that, for a few reasons, but first let me mention two things that came out in my conversations with the Veltres.
Angelo stated that pizza sales began increasing in the early 1940s. Now we're talking about things that happened, gradually, some 70 years ago, so his memory might be off by a few years, but I think in the case of Veltre's, he's probably about right. Veltre's was selling "tomato pies" in the 1930s, and they began to catch on in a relatively short time, thanks to walk-in traffic from customers coming to buy bread, and from sales to the patrons of nearby bars on Lyell Avenue.
There's also evidence, corroborated by Dave Veltre, that pizza in general changed later than the 1940s, and - not coincidentally - that those changes were accompanied by a more dramatic increase in pizza sales. The 1950s and '60s were when "modern" American pizza evolved and became standardized. Part of that was due to marketers spreading the word among pizzeria and bakery owners that if they wanted to keep up with the times, they had to switch to low-moisture, processed mozzarella, and offer various toppings, especially sliced pepperoni. The 1960s also saw the birth of national pizza chains like Pizza Hut and Domino's, although it would take some years for them to achieve national prominence.
There's also this article from the Wall Street Journal showing that pizzerias were barely a blip on the radar screen in our nation's pizza capital as late as 1958, and that the real quantum leap came over the next two decades.
None of this supports the theory that WWII vets were what drove the growth of pizza sales, either in Rochester or in the U.S. generally. First, if Angelo Veltre is correct that sales were increasing in the early 1940s, that wasn't from returning soldiers. We invaded Sicily and mainland Italy in June and September 1943, respectively. Not many soldiers would've been returning from Italy before 1944, with most returning beginning in mid-1945, after the war was over. The total number of troops sent to Italy, though large, was still relatively low as a percentage of all U.S. military deployments, and certainly not in the millions. And even among soldiers who were sent to Italy (who probably got far more meals out of a can, or in a mess tent, than in a ristorante), many, maybe most, would not have run across pizza, which was still very much a purely regional dish in Italy at that time. The WSJ article quotes one NYC pizzeria owner as stating that during his great-grandmother’s day, “in certain regions of Italy they didn’t know what pizza was.” And I recall a WWII vet who served in Italy telling me that he never ran across pizza during his time there, and that he never heard of pizza until years later, in this country. So if pizza sales were increasing in the 1940s, it was probably more from word of mouth among customers of Italian-American bakeries.
The explosion of pizza sales later, in the 1950s and '60s, is probably attributable to several factors. Again, the Journal article notes that it was in the late 1950s that affordable gas pizza ovens became widely available, obviating the need for wood- or coal-fired ovens, and making it a lot easier to bake pizza on a commercial scale.
Beyond that, the '50s and '60s witnessed a broader transformation of American eating habits, particularly the birth of fast food, fueled by the rise of mass media and advertising, a consumerist culture that emphasized convenience, and an emerging new youth culture. It's no accident that burger chains started growing at around that same time.
So - did veterans returning from Italy give rise to pizza's popularity in the U.S.? I doubt it. Some G.I.s no doubt developed a taste for Italian food, but that would hardly explain pizza's phenomenal rise in popularity from the late 1950s on. No, I think pizza took off because it got easier to make, and because Americans realized that it's just flat-out good.

In 2009, I did a post on Rochester's pizza history, discussing several of the old timers among Rochester-area pizzerias. But there's anothe place that's intrigued me for a while, even though - or because - it's no longer around.
If you happen to drive down Lyell Avenue in the city, you may have noticed the sign on the side of the building that houses Roncone's restaurant, advertising the Veltre Bakery, just around the corner at 26 Parkway St..
If you've ever followed that arrow, then you've discovered that alas, Veltre Bakery is no more. Only the sign remains. But it's long piqued my curiosity, especially after I found this discussion of Veltre's history (on the linked page, scroll down to the bottom).
It took some digging, but I finally tracked down the last owner of the bakery, Dave Veltre, who's now a Monroe County Sheriff's Deputy. I spent some time chatting with him on the phone, as well as with his father, Angelo "Sonny" Veltre, who ran the bakery before Dave. They filled me in on some of the history of the Veltre Bakery.
Angelo's father, John Veltre, an Italian immigrant who learned his trade at the long-gone Bond Bakery on North Street, bought, and renamed, the Zazzara's bakery - which was then located on Lyell Avenue, at the opposite corner of Roncone's today - in 1932. Apparently Bond (which was part of the General Baking Company) was something of a breeding ground for Rochester bakers, as another Bond employee went on to found Petrillo's Bakery, which is still going strong after 90-plus years.
What was very interesting to me was that Veltre's used a massive coal fired oven, which was capable of turning out bread loaves by the hundreds. Today, the handful of pizzerias in New York City that still use coal fired ovens are looked upon with reverence by pizza aficionados. Due mostly to modern air pollution regulations (most pizzerias with existing coal ovens were grandfathered), new coal fired ovens are a rarity these days, although some high-tech, often coal-gas hybrids can be found, as at Tony D's in Corn Hill.
Zazzara's was already making pizzas when John Veltre bought the bakery, although at that time they were still something of a novelty item. Angelo, who started helping out when he was a young boy, shortly after his father bought the business, recalled that many evenings he'd be given the job of taking "tomato pies," as they were then called, around to nearby bars and saloons, where they'd be sold to hungry patrons for five cents apiece.
Veltre's main product, of course, was bread, and customers coming in to buy loaves would also notice, and ask about, these curious tomato pies. Gradually, pizza started to catch on, with sales steadily increasing through the 1940s, '50s and '60s.
But as pizza gained in popularity, eventually becoming a staple of the American diet, it also changed. Early on, Veltre's tomato pies had been small - maybe 8 inches in diameter - and topped with nothing but tomato sauce, grated cheese, and oregano, though some customers would ask for anchovies too. But at some point beginning roughly around the early '50s, pizza began to evolve into the product we're all familiar with today, big, cheese-laden pies loaded with toppings. .
Veltre's changed with the times, too - up to a point. To meet customer demand, their pizza became more mainstream - processed mozzarella and pepperoni mostly supplanted grated Romano and anchovies - but the dough recipe (the same dough was used for the bread and the pizza) remained the same, and Veltre's continued to use fresh ingredients whenever possible, right down to the home-grown herbs.
Veltre's enjoyed some success, though, so much so that they opened several satellite locations around the Rochester area, including Henrietta, Churchville and Greece. For different reasons, all were eventually sold, and it was back to the one bakery on Parkway Street.
But other forces were at work too, that in the end spelled the end of Veltre's. Neighborhood crime was on the rise, for one thing. Changes in the business climate also led Veltre's to return to its roots, in a sense, focusing more on bread than pizza.
There was also a generational shift going on within the Veltre family. The bakery had always been very much a family affair. Dave's grandmother continued to watch over the baking into her nineties, and Angelo, like his father, devoted several decades of his life to the business.
But as Angelo reached his mid sixties, the reins passed increasingly to Dave, who was being tugged in another direction. He was interested in pursuing a career in law enforcement, and when in 1999 Dave was accepted into the Monroe County Deputy Sheriff Academy, it was time to make a choice. As Dave wrote in 2000, "the lure of a secure job, benefits, and more time with [his] family outweighed the challenges of running the bakery," and so the bakery was closed and put up for sale.
Alas, while the building was eventually sold, the business was not. Some of the original fixtures, including the oven, remain there to this day, but for what I imagine to be a combination of reasons, no buyer ever came along to revive the bakery.
Which would be a sad ending, but life goes on. It's gone on for Dave, who remains with the Sheriff's Office, and it's gone on for Angelo, who at age 84 still reports for work daily at a local YMCA, where he serves as a lifeguard. And that's no mere honorary position - Angelo once saved a swimmer's life at the Y, although he's quick to add that he was "only" 78 years old at the time.
My own regret in all this is that I never tried Veltre's pizza while it was still around. I asked Dave if there's any local pizza that comes close to what Veltre's used to make, but he couldn't come up with any. Matter-of-factly, but with a touch of understandable familial pride, he summed up his memories of Veltre's pizza by saying, "It was a work of art."
I don't think he was being boastful, or even merely nostalgic, by saying that. I think what he meant was that each Veltre's pizza was a unique product, made by individuals, in a particular setting, based on a craft that had been handed down within his family over several generations. It can no more be re-created today, by someone else, than could a lost 17th-century painting, or a legendary ancient sculpture.
So here's to lost works of art, culinary and otherwise. We may not be able to bring them back, but we can be glad they existed, and that they gave joy while they were here. Meanwhile, we can try to better appreciate the art that remains, and that's still being created today, whether in a painter's studio or in a local pizzeria. Something to think about next time you see that slightly faded sign at the corner of Lyell and Parkway.

If I were to give out awards to pizzerias for having the greatest variety of styles to choose from, Chester Cab on Park Avenue would certainly be on the list. They're known for their Chicago-style stuffed pizza, but they also offer "regular" pizza, "crispy New York style" slices, "thick Sicilian style," and "thin cracker crust," as well as low-fat pizza, and calzones. Oh, and the "Poor Man's Pizza," which is a regular pie topped with sauce, Parmesan, and herbs.
That wide variety has led me to make several visits to Chester Cab, and so far I've reported on one of their slices and on their stuffed pizza. On my most recent visit I gave the thin cracker crust a try.
I ordered my pizza - plain cheese - in person, and I was a bit dismayed when I heard they had to "go get one" of the crusts. The obvious implication was that the crusts were premade, and sitting in a storeroom, refrigerator, or freezer.
But - keep an open mind. The end result is what matters, and I'm not prepared to say that a premade crust can't be good.
The pizza that I got was, well, accurately described. The crust was thin, dry, and, indeed, crackerlike. It was crunchy, and a bit flaky, with a very thin, slightly charred edge.
The pie was more saucy than cheesy, which was probably a good thing. The sauce helped add some moisture to the dry crust, whereas a lot of cheese would've just made the whole thing chewier. The sauce had a straightforward, canned-tomato flavor (with sauce, by the way, canned tomatoes are often better than fresh, so no problem there). The cheese was a little sparse but well melted.
I ended up eating some of this sandwich style, with two slices put together, crust side out. That was actually pretty good.
This reminded me of what is sometimes called "bar pizza," meaning very thin pizza that you get in a bar, either off the bar menu or for free at happy hour. The idea is that it's so thin that it will make you more thirsty than full. But bar pizza is typically greasy and this wasn't (which would probably make it even less filling).I'm not going to rate this pizza, because it was exactly what the menu said it was, and I really can't compare it to anything else around here. You either like it this way or you don't. So even if I didn't like it, I couldn't complain, since I knew what I was ordering all along.
I thought it was OK, though I don't think it's something I'd be apt to order again. I like a more pliable crust with more of an interior. But no real complaints, and it's an interesting alternative to most other pizzas you'll find in our area.
Chester Cab Pizza, 707 Park Ave., Rochester 14607
Tel.: 244-8211
Hours: Mon. - Tue. 11 a.m. - 9:30 p.m., Wed. - Thu. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m., Fri. & Sat. 11 a.m. - 11:30 p.m., Sun. noon - 9 p.m.

This sponsorship is brought to you by Smorgie.com who we have partnered with for this promotion.

There's a new website you may want to check out, Smorgie.com. It allows you both to search for local restaurants and to create your own lists of go-to places in your home town or places you've traveled. I've played around with it a bit and it's pretty easy to use. A search for local pizza or Italian places yielded a pretty solid list of establishments, any of which I could add to my own personal list with a mouse click. And it was easy to add places myself, which other users can read about and add to their own personal lists. You can also easily share your lists with friends through facebook, twitter, email, or on smorgie itself.
There are all sorts of ways to research restaurants in various cities, and they can be hit or miss in terms of their reliability. Some sites seem mostly like a magnet for people who have had bad experiences, while others are full of suspiciously rave reviews ("A+++! The best!"). So the more research tools, the better - you'll get to know which are trustworthy or not.
The ability to create personalized lists helps differentiate Smorgie's from other sites. One of Smorgie's best features is that it allows you to put your entries into whatever categories you choose, like "pizza," "lunch places," "bars," "romantic restaurants," "places to check out" - it's up to you.
You can also search by category, although it may take a while for Smorgie, which is still in its beta stage, to refine that aspect. A search for "sports bar" in Rochester did yield some relevant results like The Distillery and Matthew's, but also Dog Town, which is a hot-dog place (perhaps there was some confusion with the Dog House bar on West Ridge?). But I think that as more user input comes in, that will work itself out.
For Rochester-area pizza, of course, there's no better resource than where you are right now , but I rely on as many search tools as I can find in trying to hunt down local pizzerias, as well as on those occasions when I want a break from pizza. I'll be checking out Smorgie for both.

I sometimes get requests, or recommendations, to go back to a place after I've given it a less than stellar review, and Sonny's Deli is one of those places.
The last time I went there, I was less than impressed with my one cheese slice, which I found overcooked and dried out.
But some readers insisted that Sonny's made good pizza, so I figured maybe I just hit them on a bad day. I also decided that next time I'd order a pie, since part of the problem with my prior slice seemed to be that it simply sat in the warmer for too long. So on a recent visit, I ordered a 14-inch (medium) cheese pizza.
As before, the underside showed screen marks. No surprise there, and although I'm generally not a fan of pizza screens, no big deal. It was rather pale, though, especially compared to the very dark brown of the slice I got last time. I did show up about five minutes before they told me it would be ready, so maybe they took it out of the oven a bit sooner than they otherwise would have.
The slices were fairly soft and foldable, although the edge was crisp. They were not greasy, but there was just a bit of oven soot underneath. The crust was thin, also as before.
The pie had plenty of sauce, which had a cooked-tomato flavor, with some herbs as well. The sauce was not noticeably salty or sweet.  
The cheese was not particularly smooth, and the shreds had not melted together completely. It may just be that there wasn't enough of it to really blanket the pizza (which is fine with me - I don't mind some areas of sauce poking through), or maybe another minute or two in the oven would've helped it melt more, or maybe it was the cheese itself, as some cheeses do melt better than others. I wondered if this was part-skim mozzarella, which due to the lower fat content will not melt as well as the whole-milk variety.
The entire pie was lightly dusted with dried herbs. The thin lip along the edge was crisp and relatively dark, with some nice toastiness. The dough itself had a reasonably good texture and flavor.
This was not bad pizza, and in some ways it was better than my previous slice, but it had a few flaws. It was a decent thin crust pie, not exactly New York style, but kind of a thin-crust version of traditional "Rochester style" pizza. While the slice I had before was overdone and dry, this seemed a bit underdone, and the crust was too soft for my taste. The cheese also left a bit to be desired. So for somewhat different reasons, I'd say it was about the same as before, a bit below average for around here, and I'll again give it a C-minus.
Sonny's Deli, 494 N. Landing Rd.
Tel.: 288-7820
Mon. - Thu. 9 a.m. - 8 p.m., Fri. 9 a.m. - 9 p.m., Sat. 10 a.m. - 9 p.m., Sun. 11 a.m. - 8 p.m.

While pizzerias are easy enough to find, there's plenty of pizza out there at local restaurants, where you wouldn't necessarily expect to find it. One such place is Towpath Cafe in Fairport.
This location was formerly Fairport Village Coffee, and like that establishment, Towpath Cafe features coffee, wine, and live music. But it's added pizza to its menu, which I don't think was offered in its previous incarnation.
The pizza, which is described as "fire grilled," comes in five varieties, which I'll let you read on the Cafe's menu. As I often do, I went with the "Margarita," which is topped with "garlic & oil, tomatoes bruschetta, mozzarella and fresh basil."'
My pizza had a very crisp crust that was on the thin side of medium. The outer edge was crunchy and a bit oily on the surface, with some interior chewiness. The underside bore prominent grill marks.
The menu's use of the term "tomatoes bruschetta" is a fairly apt description. This reminded me of bruschetta, the name of which comes from the Italian "bruscare," which means "to roast over coals," a reference to the bread, which is typically drizzled with olive oil and grilled, and topped with tomatoes, garlic, basil or other toppings. This was topped with finely diced tomato, bits of chopped garlic, and flakes of basil, on a bed of stringy, chewy cheese. I found the overall flavor quite good, with some herbs in the background. The tomatoes weren't fantastic, but they did have some tomatoey sweetness, which puts them ahead of a lot of fresh tomatoes around here at this time of year.
Besides pizza, Towpath Cafe offers burgers, paninis, wraps, and salads. The atmosphere is laid back and casual, kind of a cross between a coffee house and a restaurant, with outdoor seating overlooking the canal in the warm months.
This was decent pizza. It had a pretty good overall flavor, and the crust wasn't bad, with a bit of external crunch and some grilled toastiness. And importantly, it was distinctive. I'll give it a B-minus.
Towpath Cafe, 6 N. Main St., Fairport, 14580
Tel. 377-0410

I was recently sent two sample-size "review" bottles, of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, from The Olive Tap, an Illinois company that specializes in high-end oils and vinegars from around the world.
The bottles were about the size of one of those little liquor bottles that they sell in liquor stores, so I wasn't about to just toss it into a salad dressing or use these in a dish where they'd get drowned by other flavors. Instead, I made a crusty, homemade "rustic" style bread, the better to taste both.
I got these for free - I want to make that clear - but they may have been the best olive oil and balsamic vinegar I've ever tasted. Not that I'm a connoisseur of either, but I use and consume them on a fairly regular basis. These were head and shoulders above the stuff I've been using till now.
The oil was The Olive Tap's Tuscan Herb Olive Oil, which is flavored with a proprietary blend of several herbs including oregano, basil, garlic, and rosemary The flavors of the herbs complemented the rich flavor of the oil, without overwhelming it, and the underlying, almost sweet flavor of the oil shone through, making this a great oil for dipping. I've also used it on homemade pizza, with excellent results - it's especially good on white pizza, the better to allow its rich and subtle flavors to come through.
The vinegar was also a revelation. I always have balsamic vinegar on hand, and I thought I'd been buying pretty decent stuff, but this one, from Modena, Italy, had a richness of flavor that I'd never experienced before. Sweet but not cloying, it too was great soaked into bread, along with the oil, and terrific on a simple salad.
I wish I could say that these products are available around Rochester, but the nearest Olive Tap store or satellite location is in Medina, Ohio. Their products are available for purchase online, though. It's not cheap (a 375 ml bottle of the Tuscan Herb olive oil - about 35 servings' worth - goes for about $16), but, well, this isn't cheaply made, and the prices are pretty reasonable considering the quality of the product. And again, this isn't necessarily stuff you'll be using for ordinary cooking, where the flavors are apt to get drowned - you can use the basic brand for that, and save this for dishes where you and your guests will be better able to appreciate it.
The downside of this is that I'll never be quite as happy again with "ordinary" olive oils or vinegars. But if it's not too late, Santa, I'll gladly take a bottle or two of these in my stocking this year.

I love potatoes. For some time, I've been intrigued by potato pizza, a style that (or so I've read) is prevalent around Rome. After pizza, my second favorite food would have to be french fries. And on vacation, I've been known to make side trips to tour the local chip factory.

So I eagerly accepted a review copy of 300 Best Potato Recipes:  A Complete Cook's Guide by Kathleen Sloan-McIntosh. And yes, there was a recipe for a potato pizza, although not what I had expected, and for fries, and I tried them both.

Why an entire cookbook devoted to one ingredient? Well, in the case of potatoes, why not? They're remarkably versatile, they lend themselves to cooking in any number of ways, and they can be enjoyed on their own or in a supporting role.

The book starts off with a useful introduction that covers a bit of history, an overview of cooking methods, and the wide variety of potatoes that are available today, most of which I'd frankly never heard of before. From there, it moves on to some recipes for classic standbys like mashed potatoes and English "chips," before going on to soups, salads, sides, "mains" (Sloan-McIntosh is Canadian, so her writing tends to use Britishisms), breads, and desserts. If there's a dish using potatoes, chances are it, or something close to it, is in here.

The first thing I did on receiving the book, of course, was to look up "pizza," which led me to the recipe for "Potato-Crusted Margherita Pizza." Sloan-McIntosh states that this is "a traditional recipe style from Apulia, in southern Italy," and that she's enjoyed it at a sidewalk bakery/cafe in the city of Lecce.

Unlike Roman-style potato pizza, which is a pan-baked pizza topped with thinly sliced potatoes, this recipe uses cooked potatoes in the crust. I know from bread baking that potatoes will tend to soften the crust, and that's what happened here. The pizza did have a soft crust, and yet I can't say that I didn't enjoy it. Imagine a regular pizza crust infused with mashed potatoes and you'll get an idea of what it was like. Not something I'd want every time, but not bad, and rather unique.

The fries - hmm. It took me a little while to find the recipe I was looking for. The entry for "French fries" read "See fries and frites." Under "fries and frites (chips)," I found subheadings for "deep-fried," "fat for," "oven-fried," and "shallow-fried." I figured "deep-fried" was what I was looking for, but there were eight separate entries under that subheading, which were listed only according to page numbers, so I had to go through them one by one to find what I wanted - "Frites a la Kingsmill," named for a friend of the author.

While my fries did come out caramel colored, as described in the book, I wasn't thrilled with them. My ideal french fry is more golden than brown, with a delicate exterior crispness enveloping a fluffy, potatoey interior. These were darker and oilier than I wanted. There are other recipes in the book that I have yet to try, but the use of the term "frites" in this one led me to expect something closer to classic French fries, more golden than amber. Perhaps the recipe for English chips will come closer to my ideal, as it recommends the use of a "floury" potato, whereas the "frites" recipe called for Yukon Golds. My research indicates that floury potatoes, like russets, are best for french fries.

But the temperature recommendations may play a role too. Like a lot of frites recipes, this called for two fryings - for reasons that are debatable - but this recipe calls for an initial frying at 375 degrees, followed by a second frying at 400. Most other sources I've consulted recommend much lower temperatures for the first fry. I'm no food scientist so I have no idea what effect that had, but it must have some effect on the finished product.

Despite my less than perfect fries, I found a lot to like in this book. It's good for flipping through to look for ideas, especially after you just bought that 50 pound bag of potatoes at the Public Market. And there's a lot more here than just simple spud recipes. How does a dinner of smoked haddock with Yukon Golds in mustard beurre blanc sound, topped off with sweet potato cheesecake with pecan praline crust and caramel cream? Even if you're not that ambitious, if you like potatoes as much as I do, this is a worthwhile addition to your kitchen bookshelf, especially if you'd like to move on past the usual fried-baked-or-mashed variety.

300 Best Potato Recipes by Kathleen Sloan-McIntosh. 448 pages. Pub. by Robert Rose 2011.

A few days before Thanksgiving, I checked out two different, but related places serving two different, but related variations on pizza, with some interesting results.
International Food Market and Pizzeria in Henrietta opened recently in Jefferson Plaza, on Jefferson Road across from Southtown Plaza. It offers a pretty wide variety of packaged and freshly prepared American and Pakistani foods, and a 100% Halal menu.
I love exploring ethnic cuisines as much as the next guy, but as intriguing as some of the hot dishes looked, on this occasion I was there to investigate the pizza.
There were a couple of sliced pies on a warming tray. One was topped with pepperoni, and at first I wasn't at all sure what the other one had on it. It appeared to be a mixture of cheese interspersed with some unidentified, dark brown bits. Given the name of the place and the presence of various, more or less Middle Eastern items available, I thought perhaps it was some exotic topping that I'd never tried before.
So it was with some disappointment that I learned that it was simply mozzarella cheese that had been overbaked. The guy behind the counter explained that it got a little overly brown, so he put on some extra cheese to compensate, which gave the pizza an unusual, mottled light-and-dark appearance.
I kind of like browned cheese anyway, so I got one cheese and one pepperoni slice. The thin to medium crust was mostly soft, unevenly browned underneath, and screen baked. There was a little crunch along the edge but the edge also had kind of a tough, chewy texture.
The sauce had a thinnish consistency and a tomatoey flavor that was on the bland side. The cheese was as you'd expect, with some caramelized, burnt-cheese flavor mixed, on the cheese slice, with added, melted mozzarella.
The pepperoni was the best thing on this pizza. It had a good, meaty flavor and was just crisp along the edge.
So, not so great pizza, although the market looked to be well worth a return visit.
And most definitely worth a visit was International Food Market's sister establishment on Norton Street in Rochester. Istanbul Market is much smaller, with just a narrow storefront in a strip mall near Portland Avenue. And while it doesn't serve "American" pizza, they do offer lahmacun, a close cousin of pizza that's commonly found in Turkey and elsewhere in the Eastern Mediterranean. In fact, lahmacun is sometimes referred to as Turkish pizza, although the Greeks caused a bit of a stir earlier this year by claiming it as their own.
This was my first time trying lahmacun, but I don't think it'll be my last. A small ball of dough was stretched as thin as, maybe even thinner than a tortilla, to about the size of an average dinner plate, topped with a well-seasoned mix of ground lamb, tomatoes, onions, parsley and spices, and popped into the oven for a few minutes. So if you define pizza as a flattened layer of dough that's spread with toppings and baked in an oven, well then, this is pizza.
I try to avoid the word "delicious" on this blog - it's too cliched, and not terribly descriptive - but this was delicious, with a complexity of flavors and aromas that belied the relative simplicity of its execution. (The young woman behind the counter advised me, by the way, that lahmacun is often given a sprinkling of lemon juice before being eaten, but I had none on hand, so that will have to wait until next time.)
The very edge of the wafer-thin disk had charred nicely in the oven, giving it a crackly crunch right along the rim, though the rest of the crust remained pliable, thanks I'm sure to the protective layer of toppings, which covered nearly the entire surface. You could easily roll this up and eat it like a street vendor's crepe, but I chose to tear off and savor one bit at a time.
Regular readers of this blog will know that with pizza, I'm all about the crust. But while this "crust" (which doesn't seem like the right word, but it'll do) was fine, clearly its main function is simply to serve as a base, or wrap, for the toppings, which are the real star of the show. This was intoxicatingly aromatic and immensely - though not intensely - flavorful, subtle and complex at the same time.
And while, as with a curry dish, it was difficult to pick out all the constituents - cumin? mint? coriander? chiles, perhaps? - there was a certain underlying comfort level here too. I don't think it was the particular seasonings that were unfamiliar to me - I may well have them all in my kitchen - but they were blended in a way that I'd never had before.
Both of these markets offer an interesting selection of food items, and it's fun to browse their shelves and refrigerator cases as well as their to-go menus. Many of the packages are written entirely in Turkish, but an employee will be happy to translate for you, or you could just be adventurous and buy whatever looks good.
As far as the hot prepared food is concerned, I think my brief sampling tends to confirm the truism that when you go to a place that serves food, stick with what they do best. The pizza I had at International Food Market was passable - I'll give it a C-minus - but the lahmacun at Istanbul Market blew it away. It rates an A. (And let me emphasize that those ratings are for the two things I ate - the pizza and the lahmacun - not the markets themselves, both of which are worth a visit.)
Istanbul Market, 1388 Norton St., Rochester 14621
Hours:  Mon. - Thu. 9 a.m. - 7 p.m., Fri. & Sat. 9 a.m. - 8 p.m., Sun. 9 a.m. - 5 p.m.
Tel.: 342-2990
International Food Market & Pizzeria, 376 Jefferson Rd., Henrietta
Hours:  Mon. - Thu. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m., Fri. & Sat. 11 a.m. - 11 p.m., Sun. noon - 8 p.m.
Tel.: 270-4004 (delivery available)

I was recently sent a sample of a new product from Reed's Inc., the makers of naturally flavored soda pops like Reed's Original Ginger Brew and China Cola.
Reed's latest offering, Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer, is a non-alcoholic drink that's accurately described on the label as a "butterscotch cream soda." The flavor is simple, straightforward, and sweet, with distinct notes of vanilla and butterscotch. This isn't something I could see myself guzzling a lot of on a hot summer day, but as a "dessert" soda, it's rather satisfying. I haven't tried this yet, but I imagine it would also go very well with a scoop of vanilla ice cream in the glass.
Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer is available in 12-ounce bottles, online and at local Wegmans stores. For more information go to www.reedsinc.com.

Let me stray from pizza a bit - well, OK, a lot - to give a plug for the World Vision Gift Catalog. World Vision is, in its own words, "a Christian humanitarian organization dedicated to working with children, families, and their communities worldwide to reach their full potential by tackling the causes of poverty and injustice." They serve 100 million people in nearly 100 countries around the world, and they do not discriminate on the basis of religion, race, ethnicity, or gender.
So what's the deal with the gift catalog? Well, they offer unique items that make great gifts, from jewelry to scarves to coffee. I was provided with a sample of their fair-trade coffee, which blends beans from Ethiopia, Sumatra, and Costa Rica, and I can honestly say it is outstanding, with a rich coffee flavor that's as good as any that I've had.
The great thing about ordering from World Vision is that you can help in two ways. First, many of the items themselves are handmade by individuals from around the world. The coffee, for example, is available in a set that includes a gift bag that's been hand-sewn by women in Africa, and a hand-carved wooden coffee scoop.
Plus, part of the proceeds of your purchase go to help people in need around the world. The prices run a little high, but the amount you pay over fair-market value, and minus shipping charges, is tax deductible. And World Vision also gets a very good rating from Charity Navigator, so rest assured that your dollars are being put to good use.
And while the selection is not huge, you're not likely to find these items at major retailers. Sure, you could get your loved one a scarf at the mall, but countless other people are going to be unwrapping the same scarf on Christmas morning. A silk scarf that was hand-woven by women in Thailand's Surin Province just might mean a little more. The recipient will love it, you'll feel good, and you'll be doing good at the same time.

Last August, I reviewed The Complete Idiot's Guide to Urban Homesteading. In a similar vein, but with some differences, is another volume in the "Idiot's" Series, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Self-Sufficient Living. Author Jerome Belanger, a farmer who's written six books on country living, has written a straightforward manual for those who'd like to become more self-reliant, and less dependent on the government and big business to supply their needs, even as those entities extend their reach into more and more corners of our lives.
On the surface, this may sound a lot like the Urban Homesteading book, but they're different enough to complement each other with little overlap or redundancy. Where Urban Homesteading focused on the nuts and bolts of running what amounts to a small farm in an urban environment, Belanger takes a broader view. He does discuss homesteading and raising your own food - of both the animal and vegetable variety - but he also covers such topics as reducing waste at home, energy conservation, and low-cost "green" housing. His discussions are packed with practical tips and easy-to-follow instructions on everything from making compost to milking a goat.
Belanger also goes beyond simple DIY, how-to stuff, though, by placing his concrete advice within a larger philosophical framework. Literal self-sufficiency in the 21st century, he explains, is virtually impossible on an individual level. Even the most ardent homesteader, or even a hermit, will own and use tools, clothing, and other articles that were manufactured by somebody else.
Self-sufficiency, then, for Belanger, is not about withdrawing from society; it's about refashioning society, or the individual's place in society, one person at a time. That attitude makes this book a good fit in the current trend toward green living, but Belanger is no bandwagon jumper. He founded and edited Countryside magazine for 30 years, and has been practicing a simple, self-sufficient lifestyle for decades.
As between The Complete Idiot's Guide to Urban Homesteading, and the Guide to Self-Sufficient Living, there is of course no reason that you necessarily have to pick one the other. My wife is trying to create a more self-sufficient household, and she loves and uses both volumes.
But if you only want one, or at least one to start with, which one to get depends on your interests, or those of the person you're buying for. I'd recommend the Urban Homesteading guide for those who are primarily interested in raising their own food, particularly in an urban environment or at least on something other than a full-blown, traditional farm. If your interests include, but extend beyond, simply growing your own food, to living a simpler or more ecologically responsible life in general, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Self-Sufficient Living is the book to get.

Ordering pizza from a place you've never tried before is always a bit of a crap shoot, but that's especially true at restaurants. You can ask the waiter, of course, but you're liable to get anything from pizza on a premade shell, or on French bread, or flatbread. It might be baked, it might be grilled. Some places do use homemade, hand-stretched dough, baked in an oven, but it may be baked in the restaurant's regular oven, at a relatively low temperature that's more suited for lasagna than for pizza.
Tavern 58 on University Avenue falls into the grilled flatbread category. I dined there recently with a couple of friends, and was able to sample two of their pizzas.
Despite the name, by the way, I wouldn't call this a tavern. To me, a tavern is an American version of a pub - a bar, but typically one with a kitchen, serving meals that go beyond mere bar snacks. But at Tavern 58, the bar seems to be the tail of the restaurant dog. It's a restaurant, with a small, separate bar area. But I suppose "tavern" also conjures up a certain type of food, and maybe that's what they're going for here.
Well, restaurant, tavern, whatever. At any rate, they do offer pizza.
As I said, this was grilled, flatbread-type pizza. From the looks of it, the chef had grilled one side of the crust, flipped it, and added toppings to the other side.
When you're grilling a pizza, the cooking time tends to be quick, so as not to burn the crust. That means that the toppings are not going to cook much on the pizza itself. So either you precook the toppings, or use toppings that need little or no cooking, and in any event you don't want to overload the pizza. Veggies are particularly suited to this style, as is good melting cheese, and my grilled vegetable pizza had both. It was topped with roasted sweet peppers, diced tomato, and fresh mozzarella cheese, with an overlay of fresh basil sprouts. A sprinkling of vinegar (balsamic, I think) added another dimension to the flavor, though at the cost of the crispness imparted by the grill, as it did make the crust a bit wet. That was a drawback for me. A pizza crust can be many things - crisp, toasty, oily, crunchy - but wet shouldn't be one of them.
My friend's tomato and marinara with basil was also simply prepared, with a medium-bodied and -flavored tomato sauce and the same, creamy melted cheese.
Tavern 58 has a substantial, traditional American menu, running from burgers to steaks and seafood, with a few Italian dishes in the mix as well. )My other friend's cheeseburger, by the way, was reported to be outstanding.)
While I wouldn't mind going back sometime, I'd probably forego the pizza. It was pleasant enough, but I can't call it great pizza. Even allowing for my general preference for oven-baked rather than grilled pizza, this crust was simply too soft - and wet - and didn't seem to have much of a "grilled" flavor. The toppings were all right, but to me, they could've used a bit more help than just the splash of vinegar - perhaps roasted garlic or grilled onions, a second, more assertive cheese, additional herbs, or even something more exotic, like dried figs. As it was, I found this pizza a bit boring. Granted, there were other pizza choices on the menu, some of which had a wider array of toppings, but my first time at an establishment I like to keep it simple, so as not to let the toppings get in the way of the crust. And this crust just wasn't great, and could've used more help from the toppings. I'll give it a C-minus.