The news is no longer background noise. COVID-19 is HERE. Cases in Georgia. Cases in Atlanta. The school is sending daily updates. The grocery stores are being stripped. The toilet paper aisle is a war zone. I went to Publix Tuesday and the dried pasta was gone — ALL of it — and I stood in the empty aisle and thought: people are scared. People buy pasta when they're scared. Mama would say, "They should buy flour and yeast and make their own." Mama would be right. She was always right about self-sufficiency.
I bought what I could: canned goods, rice, dried beans, flour, sugar, yeast, meat for the freezer. The pantry in the townhouse is full for the first time in years. I am preparing the way Southern women prepare — quietly, efficiently, without panic but with purpose. You fill the pantry. You check on your people. You cook.
Derek and I are worried about the house closing. If the world shuts down, does the closing happen? The mortgage broker says "probably." The word "probably" used to be reassuring. In March 2020, "probably" sounds like "maybe" sounds like "I don't know either." We wait.
Made bread. From scratch. For the first time in years — yeast bread, the kind that requires kneading and patience and faith that the dough will rise. I kneaded the dough on the counter and the house smelled like yeast and warmth and possibility, and Marcus came into the kitchen and said, "What are you doing?" I said, "Making bread." He said, "Why?" I said, "Because the world is uncertain and bread is certain." He looked at me. He said, "That's either profound or crazy." I said, "Both." He helped me knead. We made bread in a kitchen that smells like garlic and fear and the absolute refusal to stop cooking.
That bread Marcus and I kneaded together—flour on the counter, yeast blooming, the whole house smelling like something solid and dependable—reminded me that the pantry I’d just stocked wasn’t just about surviving. It was about cooking. So the next evening I did the same thing with pizza: poured a yeast batter straight into the pan, let it rise, and built dinner from what we had. If the world was going to keep being uncertain, I was going to keep proving that flour, yeast, and a hot oven are enough.
Pour-A-Pan Pizza
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 1 hr (includes rise) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 packet (2 1/4 tsp) active dry yeast
- 1 cup warm water (about 110°F)
- 1 tsp sugar
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp salt
- 2 tbsp olive oil, plus more for the pan
- 1 cup pizza sauce
- 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
- 1/2 tsp dried oregano
- 1/2 tsp garlic powder
- Toppings of choice (pepperoni, sliced bell pepper, mushrooms, olives)
Instructions
- Activate the yeast. In a large bowl, combine warm water, sugar, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit for 5–10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast is old—start with a fresh packet.
- Make the batter. Add flour, salt, and olive oil to the yeast mixture. Stir until a thick, pourable batter forms. It will be stickier and looser than a traditional kneaded dough—that’s exactly right.
- Pan and rest. Generously oil a 9x13-inch baking pan. Pour the batter in and use a lightly oiled spatula to spread it evenly to the edges. Cover loosely with a clean kitchen towel and let rise in a warm spot for 30 minutes, until slightly puffed.
- Preheat the oven. While the dough rises, preheat your oven to 425°F.
- Top the pizza. Spread pizza sauce evenly over the risen batter, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Sprinkle with garlic powder and oregano. Add mozzarella and any toppings you’re using.
- Bake. Bake for 22–25 minutes, until the crust is golden at the edges and the cheese is bubbling and lightly browned. Let rest 5 minutes before slicing.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 280 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 34g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg