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Grilled Pizza Bread — When the Fire’s Already Going, Keep It Simple

November 2021. Fall in Memphis, and I am 62, walking the neighborhood in my light jacket, watching the leaves turn on the oaks and maples that line Deadrick Avenue. The smoker is happy in fall — the cooler air holds the smoke lower, keeps it closer to the meat, and the results are always a shade better in October than in July, as if the season itself is a seasoning.

Tyrone came over for dominoes, bringing his competitive spirit and his inability to play without cheating, and the evening was full of the brotherly banter that is our love language.

Baked beans on the smoker — navy beans soaked overnight, simmered with onion, brown sugar, molasses, mustard, and my BBQ sauce, then smoked uncovered at 250 for two hours. The hickory settles into the sauce and transforms ordinary beans into something that belongs at any table, any gathering, any moment when people need to be fed and comforted and reminded that simple food, made with patience, is the best food there is.

Another week in the book. Another seven days of tending fires — the one in the smoker, the one in the marriage, the one in the family, the one in the church. Each fire needs something different: wood, attention, food, faith. But the tending is the same for all of them: show up, add what's needed, wait patiently, trust the process. Low and slow. Always. Low and slow.

When the smoker’s already running and the company is good, you don’t want to fuss. Tyrone was at the table, the beans were doing their slow work in the smoke, and I needed something quick to put out while we waited—something that used the fire already burning rather than lighting another one. Grilled pizza bread is exactly that: it borrows the heat you’ve already earned, takes maybe fifteen minutes, and comes off the grate with that same char and smoke the evening already smells like. It’s not the main event, but on a night like that one, neither was winning at dominoes—it was just about keeping good people fed and close.

Grilled Pizza Bread

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 20 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

  • 1 loaf Italian or French bread, halved lengthwise
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1/2 cup pizza sauce or marinara
  • 1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
  • 1/2 cup mini pepperoni slices
  • 1/4 cup sliced black olives (optional)
  • 1/4 cup diced green bell pepper (optional)
  • 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
  • Red pepper flakes, to taste
  • Fresh basil, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Prepare the grill. Heat your grill or smoker to medium heat, around 375—400°F. If you’re using a charcoal grill, let the coals settle to a steady, even burn with no open flame.
  2. Make the garlic oil. Stir together the olive oil and minced garlic in a small bowl. Brush the cut sides of both bread halves generously with the garlic oil.
  3. Toast the bread. Place the bread cut-side down directly on the grill grates. Grill for 2—3 minutes until lightly toasted and grill marks appear. Watch carefully—bread goes fast over heat.
  4. Add the toppings. Remove the bread from the grill and flip cut-side up. Spread pizza sauce evenly over each half. Layer on the mozzarella, pepperoni, olives, and bell pepper. Sprinkle Italian seasoning and red pepper flakes over the top.
  5. Grill until melted. Return the topped bread to the grill. Close the lid and cook for 4—6 minutes, until the cheese is fully melted and bubbling and the edges of the bread are golden and crisp.
  6. Slice and serve. Transfer to a cutting board, scatter fresh basil over the top, and slice into portions. Serve hot, straight off the board.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 320 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 33g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 680mg

Earl Johnson
About the cook who shared this
Earl Johnson
Week 294 of Earl’s 30-year story · Memphis, Tennessee
Earl "Big E" Johnson is a sixty-seven-year-old retired postal carrier, a forty-two-year husband, and a Memphis BBQ legend who learned to smoke pork shoulder at his Uncle Clyde's stand when he was eleven years old. He lost his daughter Denise to sickle cell disease at twenty-three, and he honors her every year by smoking her favorite meal on her birthday and setting a plate at the table. His dry rub uses sixteen spices he keeps in a mayonnaise jar. He will not share the recipe. Not even with Rosetta.

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