EATING OUR FEELINGS
version, and with good reason because they are amazing. New Yorkers tend to think they are the centre of the world, and their ba- gels are the gold standard. Mon- treal bagels often don’t register in their mental map of what a ‘real’ bagel is.” As co-founder of the Mile End Delicatessen in New York, Joel Tietolman has had one foot in both bagel worlds. When he be- gan bringing bagels from Mon- treal, driving them overnight in his car, some guests were excit- ed. Others were shocked at his chutzpah, as if he were import- ing cheese to France or wine to Italy. “It’s more contentious in a place that already has an estab- lished bagel identity,” Tietolman says. “In a place like Winnipeg, it doesn’t matter.” But though Klein has suc- cessfully transitioned Winni- peg to Montreal bagels, his first love is pizza. His favourite way to spend time with his wife and two children is making and shar- ing it at home. “We’re all in the kitchen. The kids are at the is- land. I’m stretching pies,” Klein describes the scene. “That’s my happy space.” There is always dough in Klein’s fridge at home. On piz- za nights, he stretches and bakes them one at a time: plain cheese or bacon for his youngest son, Josh; two meats plus mushrooms for the older boy, Sam; and white sauce (ranch dressing from the fridge, thickened with parmesan) with pickled jalapeños and on- ions for his wife, Ayli. When I’ve made pizza for my family in the past, I’ve served it all at once. But I like Klein’s one- at-a-time method: how it slows
Stretching dough takes a lot of practice. Be patient with yourself as you work on your technique — and enjoy the deli- cious imperfec- tions you create along the way.
down a family meal, keeping us all in the same space as we make and await the next pie. I’m going to try that with my wife and daughter, who has re- cently started stretching dough herself. (Perhaps the extended ritual will also loosen our daugh- ter’s tongue to tell us something about her day at school?) As a cook, Klein is particu- lar about what goes into his piz- za, like all-purpose flour for the dough, which is not as heavy as the bread flour he uses for ba- gels. It achieves a less dense structure that’s still sturdy enough for a slice; it will get crispy, but still allows for fold- ing. But as an eater, he’ll take it any way it arrives: good, bad, or even cold. “I love cold pizza. Even the worst pizza is still edi- ble. You can’t say that about oth- er food. I could eat it every day for every meal.” Klein is currently adapting his recipe for a planned piz- zeria — and finding that what works in the home kitchen doesn’t translate to a commer- cial one. “I had a recipe I liked, doing it at home on the pizza
stone. Then I came into the shop and it turned out different. It’s amazing how a commercial ap- pliance yields a better product.” Until ovens are installed in the new kitchen, he won’t know how hot they run, or if they have spots in them that behave differently. And, because the business will be focused on re-firing slices, the dough will need to be a little bit higher in fat. When a slice is re- heated, instead of getting dried out, it should retain enough fat so it folds and doesn’t “crack like a piece of matzah.… How much caramelization and char you’re going to get is going to be dictat- ed by the oil. So that’s pretty much where I’m going to have to modify things the most.” As Klein speaks, the wheels are still turning, the transforma- tion and systematizing of some- thing he does for love into a commercial enterprise. “Bagels make me money. Pizza makes me happy,” he cites a motto he’s almost ready to have tattooed. “Hopefully pizza will make me money soon.” Klein’s pizza dough has a nearly 70 percent hydration rate
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