This evening we went over to our friends’ home to make pizza. Stephen built a pizza oven a few years ago: bricks covered with a layer of concrete. He’d been stoking the coals in it for a while when we arrived.
He has a little temperature “gun” that measures the temperature of a spot you point it at, and he showed us that the back of the oven was just over a thousand degrees. The floor– where the pizzas would bake– was “only” around 850. That means the baking time is less than ninety seconds.
We made our little personal pizzas, and I slid mine into the oven. I kept it in a little longer than usual, because I enjoy slightly browned cheese, and I was not disappointed.
After this delicious meal, I’m thinking about how I might set up a pizza oven back home in Montana…