One of the first and perhaps only things I had heard about Wanja—my partner— before I knew him knew him was that he was building a pizza oven at the local eco-centre in Blagaj with his own two hands; that, and that he'd survived the entire winter in a tent. For the winter I was impressed and slightly concerned, for the pizza oven I was intrigued and immediately hungry. I really didn’t know what to make of the pizza oven situation until we began to spend time together, when I heard him start to invite everyone and anyone we'd share chats with for the next “pizza session," but only after the final layer of clay was finished drying. Then it'd be time to host the first community gathering at the eco-centre, pizzas in attendance.
COVID impacted everything, including the hypothesized pizza sessions. It was just around the time that social isolation measures were being put into place that we were planning the first gathering. Those were more days of innocence, the quiet before the storm. We opted to keep it simple—a few friends, some ingredients, nothing wild. But once the wood went in and the oven was warming, people were coming in swarms from the city and surrounding areas with garden veggies and cans of tomato sauce in hand. Yes, the uncertainty of COVID-19 was present—some sat at outdoor tables further away, some didn’t show, but most of the community was there. If the goal was to unite, It was a success, the last of its kind for the rest of the year. In the morning, we had a police complaint that we'd broken social gathering rules. Pizza parties suspended, oven or not.
The next session was adversely on the tail end of COVID-19, or so we thought at the time. Basically, summer was coming, our economy in Bosnia is dependent on tourism, and restrictions began to cease, allowing people to stay out past 20h again. New friends came and most of us stayed until 2 in the morning rolling out the last of the dough and living the pizza party dream of our early youth—endless slices, no parental supervision to control us in sight. All types of pizzas were coming out of that oven full of ingredients from the gardens of attendees or that their mothers sent with them in Tupperware to be returned. If you can imagine an outdoor gathering where around 30 mostly sober people drunk off the joy of gathering again are walking around with bellies full of pizza alongside roaming dogs placing their bets on the possibility of dropped toppings, you've caught the feel of the atmosphere present that night. Wanja left space for a speech about the importance of coming together and how pizza was the catalyst for that—I cried. It was good, light, communal, what the pizza sessions are meant to be.
And that's what I learned—that the pizza sessions aren't all Pizza Hut-Dominos-Papa Johns's replicas in a home atmosphere. There's a concept happening there, one bigger than the love of over-eating the universal meal of our childhoods. The pizza session idea revolves around the pizza oven, yes, but the main concept is centered around bringing people together—friends, acquaintances, neighbors, everyone. Because seriously, who doesn’t love pizza? Like Wanja, it’s a connector, and it has some principles involved which foster that connection, jumbo-sized pizza principals.
The philosophy behind the pizza oven deserves its own college course or at least a manifesto for the wealth it brings. As a writer, I’m pushing Wanja to compile the latter but, for the time being, I've compiled a small instructional guide on how to replicate the pizza session model wherever you are. Put it in your neighborhood! Put it in your garden! Put it on the premise of a local NGO! Wherever you put it, just put it somewhere people can be people eating pizza.
Pizza Session Instructional How-to/Pizza Ovens for Peace
1. Build said pizza oven. Find some wood, some clay, some hay, and someone that knows how to blend those together in the right order. Make it big and leave enough space for a rolling station. Choose the location. Put it in a space accessible to many and make sure to build the pizza oven near the place where attendees will sit so that the chef(s) is also a part of the social fun.
2. Invite the community. No one is exempt from pizza party fun and also, everyone loves pizza. It’s the only truth I know. Mention it on your walks. Do the Facebook invite thing. Call people on the phone. Make it last minute, plan ahead for weeks. Have fun. Make sure they know that they are invited to come as they are and can bring a friend, too. For extra lovin', let them know they can bring dough to bake themselves a weekly loaf of bread for themselves once the pizzas are gone and the oven cools.
3. Set a suggested donation and invite attendees to bring ingredients they love. We make ours vegetarian for moral purposes, but you-do-you. The suggested donation (about $5) will go back into the pizza fund box and will be used for the next party.
4. Ask for preparation help--chopping wood, collecting herbs, preparing the dough, grocery shopping, whatever. It’s a team effort the whole way through by the ideal of the idea. Prepare enough dough so that everyone leaves with a full pizza belly. Usually, that means around 30 doughs, but that depends on how many guests you’re expecting!
5. Make a serving board big enough to serve a full pizza on—think jumbo-sized pizza box, but wooden. When each pizza is finished bubblin’ in the oven, the serving board will ensure that everyone has access to a slice. Cut into slices plenty enough to feed theoretically all at the table—the idea is that the pizza is a shared meal where everyone eats from the same plate. As an added benefit, you get to try all the different flavors.
6. Open the space for others to create. Sometimes another guest steps in and wants a try at the oven and they get stoked when they make something good. The chef could use a break to chill and socialize, too. Let them. Encourage the insecure ones to try.
7. Make a Doggie pizza. It’s a pizza session tradition that the dogs present get their own pizza. From experience, we know that tomato sauce isn't a "go." It’s a strictly cheese and dough situation and the dogs that know, know. My dog Baka waited in front of the oven practically the whole night. Also, if you’re wondering, she often leaves the crust.
8. Keep the pizzas rolling until everyone has reached their pizza quotient. Leave no tummy unsatisfied. If you have leftover doughs, bake loaves of bread for attendees and give them a little gift to go.
God, I'm hungry now. Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m well fed. Life is good, pizza is holy. Magic happens over food. Go and share a pizza with someone you love.
Comments