The title of this post is the slogan of a pizza shop chain I grew up with, and it must have worked, because even now the phrase sticks in my mind.
It popped directly into my head when I made tonight's dinner, which isn't really a pizza, but is actually a focaccia with toppings. The difference? I dimple the top of the risen disk of dough with my fingers, press in some rosemary, and drizzle it with olive oil--just as though it was going to be served on its own. Then I part-bake it before adding the remaining ingredients.
The recipe I used for the focaccia is Marcella Hazan's; what's on top is (in this order, from bottom to top) ricotta cheese, pesto, diced sopressata, and fresh mozzarella.
It tastes like summer--a nice trick made possible by the fact that if you whirl fresh basil leaves with olive oil in a food processor and then freeze the resulting mess in a baggie, it can be thawed and made into a very fresh-tasting pesto months later.
Because the focaccia is so much thicker than a Neapolitan pizza, it feeds an army! I'll be freezing some of it for future lunches.