Homemade margherita pizza
A simple dough, a no-cook tomato sauce and the hottest oven you can manage. A heavy baking tray preheated in the oven does a good job of standing in for a pizza stone.
36 recipes that use strong white bread flour, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Homemade margherita pizza, takes 40 minutes. It is most often cooked with sugar, fast-action dried yeast and egg.
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A simple dough, a no-cook tomato sauce and the hottest oven you can manage. A heavy baking tray preheated in the oven does a good job of standing in for a pizza stone.
Empanada gallega is the great pie of Galicia, baked in big trays and sold by the slice at every fiesta, market and bakery, and carried on picnics and pilgrimages to Santiago. A thin, crisp, bread-like crust (made with the olive oil from cooking the filling, so it's golden and full of flavour) encloses a moist filling based on a slow-cooked 'zaragallada' of onions and peppers with sweet pimentón. Tuna and pork are the usual fillings; this vegetarian version keeps the classic sofrito and adds hard-boiled eggs and green olives. Serve warm or cold, with a green salad. Chef's tip: drain the filling well and use some of its paprika-coloured oil in the dough; that is the Galician secret that makes the crust golden and savoury and ties the pie together.
Conchas are the most famous pan dulce (sweet bread) in Mexico, piled high in every panadería and eaten for breakfast or merienda with hot chocolate or coffee. The bun is soft, slightly sweet and enriched with egg and butter, and it wears a crunchy, crumbly topping of sugar, fat and flour scored into the seashell pattern that gives it its name. Make some vanilla and some chocolate topping for the classic mix. Chef's tip: shape the dough into very tight balls before adding the topping; the tension makes them rise up instead of spreading out, so the shell cracks into neat stripes.
Khobz is the round, flat loaf that sits on every Moroccan table, used instead of cutlery to scoop up tagine and salads. In the older quarters of Fez and Marrakech families still shape their dough at home and carry it on wooden boards to the neighbourhood wood-fired oven, the ferran; at home it bakes perfectly on a hot tray. The semolina and wholemeal give it a slightly nutty taste and a soft, chewy crumb with a thin crust. It keeps for a day wrapped in a cloth and is wonderful toasted. Chef's tip: prick the top all over before baking so it rises evenly and stays flat instead of puffing like a pitta.
Ambasha is the round, slightly sweet festival bread of Tigray and Amhara, baked for holidays such as Easter (Fasika) and Meskel and for welcoming guests. The dough is scented with fenugreek, cardamom and coriander seed, and before baking the top is cut with a knife into a wheel-like pattern, so it comes out of the oven looking like a decorated plate; it is brushed with niter kibbeh and berbere and served torn into pieces with coffee. Chef's tip: cut the pattern deep (about 1 cm), or it disappears as the bread rises in the oven.
Sfogliatella riccia is the most famous pastry of Naples, sold warm from bakeries on Via Toledo and eaten for breakfast with an espresso: dozens of paper-thin layers fanned into a shell that shatters when you bite, around a filling of semolina, ricotta, candied orange and cinnamon. It is a project for a weekend, as the dough needs to be rolled very thin, wound into a tight log and chilled overnight. Neapolitan bakers use lard; this version uses a mix of butter and vegetable shortening. Chef's tip: a pasta machine is your best friend; roll the dough to the thinnest or second-thinnest setting so the layers separate into crisp leaves.
Stacked high on wooden trays and pushed through Istanbul on red carts, simit is the city's breakfast on the move: commuters tear one apart on the ferry across the Bosphorus, throwing the odd piece to the gulls. The ring is twisted, dipped in diluted grape molasses (pekmez) and pressed into sesame, so it bakes up with a crackly, nutty, deep brown crust and a chewy, close crumb. Unlike a bagel it is never boiled. At home, serve warm with tea, white cheese, olives and tomatoes. Chef's tip: toast the sesame seeds in a dry pan before coating; raw seeds stay pale and taste of very little.
Along the Black Sea coast, from Samsun to Trabzon, the pide salon is where families go on a Friday night, and the oven man shapes each boat of dough by hand before sliding it onto the hot stone floor of a wood-fired oven. The Black Sea way is generous: a pool of melted kaşar and white cheese held inside a rim of soft bread, an egg cracked into the middle for the last few minutes and a knob of butter dropped on as it comes out. Children love tearing off the crusty ends to drag through the cheese. Chef's tip: heat a heavy baking tray or pizza stone in the oven for a full 30 minutes; the hot base is what gives a crisp underside rather than a soft one.
On the streets of Beirut, vendors push wooden carts stacked with ka'ak, a chewy, sesame-crusted bread shaped like a handbag with a hole for a handle; in Jerusalem's Old City the same bread comes as long oval rings sold by the gate. Buyers ask for it split open and filled with a pinch of za'atar or a wedge of soft white cheese, and eat it on the way to work or school. The crust gets its deep amber colour from a quick dip in sweetened water before the sesame goes on, and the crumb inside stays soft and slightly sweet. Chef's tip: toast the sesame seeds lightly in a dry pan before coating; they stick better once cool and taste nutty rather than raw.
Kouign-amann (say 'kween-ah-MAHN', Breton for 'butter cake') was created in the fishing port of Douarnenez in the 1860s, reportedly by a baker who folded butter and sugar into bread dough when flour was short. Today Breton bakeries sell it as a rich treat for afternoon coffee: flaky layers of bread dough with butter and sugar folded through, baked until the sugar melts into a dark, crunchy caramel. This home version makes individual ones in a muffin tin. It takes an afternoon, mostly waiting time. Chef's tip: keep the dough and butter cold between every fold; warm butter is the common mistake and it oozes out, so you lose the layers.
Pandesal is the bread of the Filipino morning: small, soft, slightly sweet rolls with a fine breadcrumb coating, bought hot at dawn in brown paper bags from the neighbourhood panaderia (bakery) and eaten before school or work. They are torn open and filled with butter, cheese or peanut butter, or dunked straight into a cup of coffee, and at night the leftovers are toasted. Despite the name ('salt bread'), they are gently sweet, with a pillowy crumb and a thin crust. Home-made ones are best eaten within hours of baking. Chef's tip: the classic shape comes from rolling the dough into a log, coating it in crumbs and cutting slices, which bake into those familiar oval rolls with cut sides up.
On Portuguese beaches in summer, from Praia da Rocha in the Algarve to Nazaré and Figueira da Foz, vendors walk the sand with a glass box on their shoulder calling 'Olha a bola!': soft fried doughnuts rolled in sugar, split along one side and stuffed with thick yellow creme pasteleiro. Though named after the Berliner, the Portuguese version is cut open rather than injected, so the custard shows like a smile. They are eaten in swimsuits, sticky-fingered, mid-afternoon, and in cafés the rest of the year. Chef's tip: let the shaped balls rise until they look puffy and a gentle finger press springs back slowly; under-proved dough fries dense and over-proved dough collapses and soaks up oil.
Fugazzeta is a Buenos Aires original from the pizzerias of the Corrientes and La Boca neighbourhoods, where Genoese immigrants' focaccia (fugazza) met mozzarella. A thick, soft pan dough is filled with a layer of mozzarella, sealed with a second layer of dough, then covered with a mound of thinly sliced onions and more cheese and baked until the onions are sweet and golden. It's a big, rich pizza to share. Use mozzarella made with vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: salt the onions and squeeze them out before using; this keeps the pizza from going soggy.
Golfeados are the sticky sweet buns of Caracas bakeries and especially of the old roadside panaderías on the road to El Junquito, eaten warm with a slice of salty white cheese and a coffee. The soft yeast dough is rolled up with grated papelón (panela), anise seeds and crumbled cheese, baked in a tight tray and soaked with a dark panela syrup so they glisten. They are sweet, salty and fragrant. Chef's tip: roll them tightly and pack them close together in the tin; they rise up instead of out and stay soft and moist.
The Brezel is the emblem of German bakeries in Bavaria and Swabia: deep chestnut-brown and shiny outside, soft and chewy inside, with a fat 'belly' and thin crisp arms, studded with coarse salt. In Munich it's eaten with sweet mustard and Obatzda in beer gardens; in Stuttgart it's split and buttered for breakfast. Bakeries dip them in a lye solution, which is too caustic for most home kitchens; a bath of baked baking soda gets close in colour and flavour and is safe to handle. Chef's tip: chill the shaped pretzels uncovered for 30 minutes before the bath; a slightly dry skin holds its shape and turns darker and shinier.
Apfelstrudel is the pride of Vienna's coffee houses, eaten warm in the afternoon with Schlagobers (whipped cream), vanilla sauce or ice cream. The secret is the dough: a soft, oiled dough stretched by hand over a floured cloth on the kitchen table until it is so thin you could read a newspaper through it, then rolled around tart apples, raisins, cinnamon and butter-fried breadcrumbs. It takes practice but not special skill. Chef's tip: fry the breadcrumbs in butter until golden before scattering them over the dough; they soak up the apple juices and stop the bottom of the strudel going soggy.
Pampushky are the small, pillowy yeast rolls that arrive in a basket next to borshch in any Ukrainian restaurant, from Kyiv to Poltava, glistening with a raw garlic and dill dressing. They are baked tightly packed in one tin so they pull apart with soft sides and golden tops, and the sharp garlic is the perfect partner for sweet, sour beetroot soup. Sweet pampushky, fried and dusted with sugar, also exist; this is the savoury baked kind. Chef's tip: brush on the garlic oil while the rolls are still hot from the oven, so they drink it in; common mistake is brushing them before baking, which burns the garlic bitter.
Lángos is the deep-fried flatbread of Hungarian beaches and markets: it is eaten in swimsuits on the shore of Lake Balaton, at Budapest's Great Market Hall and at every summer fair. The dough is soft and yeasted, often enriched with mashed potato, and it fries into a puffy disc that is crisp at the edges and chewy in the middle. The classic topping is garlic water brushed on hot, then sour cream and a snowfall of grated cheese. Chef's tip: stretch the dough thinner in the centre than at the rim; the edge puffs into a crisp crust while the middle stays soft enough to hold the toppings. Choose a cheese made with vegetarian rennet (many supermarket Cheddars and Edams are).
Pączki are the rich, yeasted doughnuts Poland eats by the dozen on Tłusty Czwartek, Fat Thursday, the last Thursday before Lent, when Warsaw bakeries such as the old ones on Nowy Świat have queues round the block from dawn. A good pączek is round and heavy for its size, with a pale ring around its middle, a fine, yolk-rich crumb and a filling of rose-petal jam (konfitura z róży) or plum butter, finished with icing and candied orange peel. A spoon of vodka or spirytus in the dough is an old trick: it evaporates in the hot oil and stops the dough soaking up fat. Chef's tip: keep the oil between 165 and 175°C with a thermometer; hotter and they burn outside while raw in the middle, cooler and they turn greasy.
Every neighbourhood in Srinagar has a kandur, a baker working at a pit oven, and before sunrise people queue there for girda: round breads about the size of a side plate, pressed all over with fingertips so the crust sets in ridges and hollows. The outside is lightly crisp, the crumb soft and slightly chewy, and the bread is torn and dunked into salty pink noon chai or spread with butter. A home oven with a heavy tray heated until very hot gets close to the kandur. Chef's tip: wrap the breads in a clean cloth as they come out; the trapped steam keeps the crust tender rather than hard.
Every morning in Goan villages the poder, the local baker, cycles from house to house honking a horn, his basket full of warm bread. Poi is the one Goans miss most when they leave home: a flat, round, wholewheat-and-white-flour bread dusted with wheat bran, baked in a very hot wood oven so it puffs into a hollow pocket. It's torn open for chorizo pao in Goa, but just as good stuffed with spicy chickpea ros, dipped in a vegetable xacuti, or eaten with butter and tea. Traditionally the dough was raised with palm toddy; at home, yeast does the job. Chef's tip: preheat a heavy baking tray in the oven for at least 20 minutes; the shock of hot metal is what makes the poi puff.
In Xi'an's Muslim Quarter, cooks peel liangpi off steaming trays all day, cut it into wide ribbons and toss it with chilli oil, black vinegar, garlic water and cubes of springy gluten. It's eaten cold, often with a flatbread, as a summer lunch. Gansu's niangpi, from Lanzhou and Tianshui, is the same dish with thicker sheets and more garlic, so it's covered here too. You wash a flour dough to split the starch from the gluten, so allow 4 hours for the starch to settle. Chef's tip: stir the starch water every time before you ladle it, because the starch sinks fast.
Across Xinjiang, from Kashgar's bazaars to Urumqi's backstreets, bakers slap rounds of dough onto the walls of clay tandoors and pull them out a few minutes later, golden and stamped with patterns. The centre is pressed thin and crisp while the rim stays soft and chewy, and the onion version is scattered with cumin and sesame. Nang keeps for days and is eaten with tea, kebabs and salads. Chef's tip: get your oven and tray as hot as they'll go; nang bakes quickly in fierce heat.
Despite the name, there is no pineapple in a bolo bao; the crackled, golden sugar crust on top just looks like the fruit's skin. It is the best-selling bun in Hong Kong bakeries and cha chaan teng cafés, eaten warm at breakfast or tea time with milk tea, and many people order it as bo lo yau, split open with a thick, cold slice of butter melting into it. Chef's tip: roll the topping between two sheets of baking paper rather than on a floured board; the soft dough is fragile and paper lets you lift it on in one piece.
On Friday afternoons the bakeries of Jerusalem's Mahane Yehuda market and every Jewish neighbourhood from Brooklyn to Golders Green fill with plaited, shiny challah for the Shabbat table, where two loaves sit under an embroidered cloth until the blessing. The dough is enriched with eggs, oil and a little honey, so the crumb is soft, faintly sweet and pulls apart in feathery strands, and the crust bakes deep mahogany. Leftovers make wonderful French toast. Chef's tip: brush the egg glaze twice, once before rising and once just before baking, for the deep, lacquered shine.
Every Uzbek meal starts with bread torn by hand and passed round the table, and obi non is the everyday loaf: a round with a thick, soft rim and a thin, crisp centre pricked with a patterned stamp called a chekich. In Samarkand and Tashkent it comes out of clay tandoors at dawn, and across the border in Kazakhstan the same bread is sold as tandyr nan. Bread is never cut with a knife and never laid face down. A very hot oven and a baking stone or upturned tray come close to the tandoor at home. Eat it warm with green tea, achichuk salad, soups and plov. Chef's tip: press the centre really thin and prick it all over; if you don't, it puffs into a ball like pitta and you lose the flat, crackly middle.
Lagman came to the Ferghana Valley with Uyghur and Dungan cooks, and in Andijan and Namangan it is still made the old way: a soft dough oiled, rested and pulled by hand into long, springy noodles, then topped with a stew of peppers, radish, green beans and tomato called vadja. Ferghana lagman is usually 'dry' (quwurma), the sauce thick enough to cling, rather than a soup. Locals eat it at lunchtime from noodle houses near the bazaar, with a dash of vinegar and chilli oil at the table. This version uses only vegetables. Chef's tip: oil the dough ropes generously and let them rest a full 30 minutes; well-rested dough stretches to arm's length without snapping.
Every Swedish café from Malmö to Kiruna keeps a tray of kanelbullar by the till, and on 4 October, Kanelbullens dag, bakeries can barely keep up. They belong to fika, the mid-morning or afternoon pause for coffee and something sweet. Unlike the big, iced American roll, a Swedish bun is modest and buttery: the dough is perfumed with freshly crushed cardamom, the filling is a thin smear of cinnamon butter, and the top gets a scatter of crunchy pearl sugar instead of frosting. This version shapes them into knots, the way Stockholm bakers do, though plain spirals baked in paper cases are just as traditional at home. Chef's tip: crush the cardamom seeds yourself just before mixing; ready-ground cardamom loses most of its scent within weeks and the buns will taste only of cinnamon.
In Liège, in French-speaking Wallonia, the waffle is not a light batter but a rich yeasted dough studded with pearl sugar, eaten warm from a paper sleeve as you walk down the street. As it cooks in a deep-grid iron, the sugar nuggets melt and caramelise into a crackling, toffee-like crust, while the inside stays soft and chewy like brioche. Belgians eat them plain, any time of day, not loaded with cream (that is the lighter Brussels waffle). Chef's tip: knead the pearl sugar in only at the very end, after the dough has risen; if it goes in earlier, it dissolves and the waffles lose their crunch.
Cozonac is the festive loaf every Romanian family bakes for Easter and Christmas, filling kitchens from Craiova to Suceava with the smell of butter, rum, lemon and orange zest. The rich yeast dough is rolled around a walnut and cocoa filling studded with pieces of rahat (Turkish delight), then braided and baked in a tall loaf tin so each slice shows a dark swirl. Unlike Slovenian potica, which is rolled into a thin spiral ring, cozonac is a braided loaf. It is eaten in thick slices with coffee on the feast mornings. Chef's tip: knead until the dough is silky and comes away from the bowl, then be patient with the rises; under-proving is the classic mistake and gives a dense, heavy loaf.
No Slovenian Easter or Christmas table is complete without potica, a yeasted dough rolled thin around a honeyed walnut filling and baked in a fluted ring mould called a potičnik. When sliced, each piece shows a tight spiral of pale dough and dark nuts. Families in Ljubljana and across Carniola argue about the best filling, but walnut with honey is the classic one, eaten with coffee from Christmas morning until the tin is empty. Unlike a braided Romanian cozonac, the beauty is all in the thin, even swirl. Chef's tip: spread the filling no thicker than the dough and roll it up tightly; a loose roll or a thick layer leaves a gap between dough and filling once baked, the most common potica fault.
Panipopo (from 'pani', bun, and 'popo', coconut) are soft, sweet bread rolls baked sitting in a pool of coconut milk and sugar, which bubbles into a sticky, caramel-coloured sauce around them. Samoan families bake them for Sunday lunch, fundraisers and church gatherings, and they've spread to Samoan communities in Auckland and Hawaii. Served warm with the sauce spooned over, they're somewhere between a cinnamon roll and a pudding. Chef's tip: pour the coconut sauce around the rolls just before baking, not hours ahead, or the bottoms go soggy instead of sticky.
In Korea a 'hot dog' means this: a sausage, often with a stick of mozzarella above it, dipped in a sweet yeasted batter and rolled in breadcrumbs or tiny potato cubes before frying. They are sold from stalls in Myeongdong in Seoul, outside schools and at every busy station, and the cheese pull is half the fun. A roll in sugar straight from the oil, then a zigzag of ketchup and mustard, is the classic finish. Chef's tip: freeze the skewered sausages and cheese for 15 minutes before dipping; the cold cheese holds its shape and the batter grips better.
Lahmacun belongs to south-east Turkey, especially Gaziantep and Şanlıurfa, where bakeries slide dozens at a time into wood-fired ovens and people eat them on the street at any hour, often with a cold ayran. The dough is rolled almost see-through and spread with a raw paste of minced lamb, onion, peppers, tomato and herbs that cooks in minutes in fierce heat. To eat, squeeze lemon over, add a handful of parsley and onion, roll it up and fold. Chef's tip: blitz the topping vegetables to a fine paste and squeeze out the excess juice, so the meat spreads in a thin, even layer that bakes crisp rather than soggy.
In the old town of Nice, pissaladière is sold by the square from bakeries and market stalls, a lunchtime slice or something to nibble with a drink before dinner. A thin bread dough is spread thickly with onions cooked down for almost an hour until soft and sweet, then crossed with salted anchovies and dotted with small black Niçoise olives. It is just as good at room temperature as warm. Chef's tip: cook the onions low and slow without letting them brown; they should be pale gold and jammy, not caramelised.
The Cornish pasty fed tin miners and fishermen in Cornwall for centuries, its thick crimped edge a handle for dirty hands, and today bakeries from Penzance to St Ives sell them warm all day. The filling goes into the pastry raw: thinly sliced beef skirt, potato, swede and onion, seasoned only with salt and plenty of pepper, so everything steams in its own juices inside the crust. Chef's tip: slice the vegetables thinly and evenly, not in cubes; thin pieces cook through in the same time as the beef.