BUMPER CROP
Michael Dickman interviews First Field founders Theresa Viggiano and Patrick Leger. Photos by Theresa Viggiano and Patrick Leger.
Bumper crop of farm-fresh tomatoes
Michael Dickman grew up in Portland, Oregon, where his brother was a prep cook at Panini’s for Kitchen Table contributing editor Dave Adamshick at a small Italian restaurant, now long gone. Dickman learned to cook at Dave’s apartment and, through their friendship, discovered food writers such as Elizabeth David, Waverley Root, MFK Fisher, and Harold McGee. He met New Jersey farmers Theresa Viggiano and Patrick Leger through his mentor, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Paul Muldoon, who was their neighbor. Dickman now teaches poetry at Princeton University’s creative writing program. The following is a conversation between Michael, Theresa, and Patrick conducted at First Field Farms in Windsor, New Jersey.
PIZZA LANDSCAPES
MD: When I was a child growing up in Portland, Oregon, there were three kinds of pizza: pizza from a pizza parlor like The Organ Grinder out on SE 82nd Ave., where we went for birthday parties; frozen pizza from Fred Meyer, also on 82nd Ave.; and the third kind of pizza, a miracle made from scratch by my uncle Angelo’s father, Angelo Castellucci Sr. He lived in California and so that pizza was a rare treat. It bore little resemblance to the first two I mentioned. It was, and remains, a kind of dream pizza. What was the pizza landscape of your own childhoods?
TV: I lived in a small town in northwest New Jersey, and there wasn’t too much around in the way of pizza shops. Most of the pizza we had at home was a pickup from Domino’s. Pizza Hut was the real deal back then. I still remember going out for pizza nights there. For years that’s how I thought pizza shops made pizza—served in deep dish skillets with red plastic cups full of Coke, stained glass lampshades over the tables.
PL: And a Pac Man machine near the register!
TV: Later on when we moved out of that town a whole new world of slice shops appeared. And then there was the era when I lived in Indiana and pizza came with sides of ranch, garlic butter, and BBQ sauce.
MD: Can bad pizza be good? And conversely, can good pizza be bad? (Without naming names I’ve eaten some fancy-ass pizza that was terrible.)
TV: I think sometimes folks can get stuck in their lane, whatever that may be, and can’t recognize the context—and sometimes community—where a particular pizza is beloved. Back to those dipping sauces that came with pizza in Indiana: totally weird to me, but Midwesterners loved it. And it was a fun way to eat pizza. I personally wouldn’t consider that great pizza, but it had a place in lots of peoples’ homes, and that counts for something that I don’t feel really fits into what is good or bad pizza.
On the flip side, I do appreciate the constant striving and working towards making a really fantastic pizza, whatever that means to the person putting those hours in to make it as good as can be. There’s always work to be done with getting the bake right; the sauce; the right cheese; and I have yet to meet anyone who makes pizza that isn’t humbled on the regular by how their dough behaves. Or by a cranky oven. And there are definitely places out there where the spirit of all of the hard work and passion for great pizza is mimicked with branding that doesn’t truly reflect the tinkering, struggles, and, above all, the patience it takes to make it all work. And maybe that can come across in the pizzas from some of those places that don’t have the dedication to the craft that they could have if they put their mind to it.
No one should feel like they can’t give pizza a go at home because they don’t feel like they’re going to do it right. There’s no right way to begin making pizza—do what works for you at home. Get a ball of dough from your favorite pizza shop or from the grocery store and start making pizza. Maybe get a few books on pizzamaking to lead you where you want to go. You’ll have fun.
PL: It’s a beautiful thing that everyone has an opinion on what a good or bad pizza entails, which is so closely wrapped up in their own life experiences. It makes it a natural starting point for striking up a conversation with just about anyone. Maybe this replaces talking about the weather one day? It’s indifference that scares us… just have an opinion on pizza and stand by it! And we respect anyone who has a good process that they trust and that works for them, regardless if the outcome is what we are striving for ourselves.
Amongst the seedlings.
CANNED AND CRUSHED
MD: You make, to my taste, the greatest canned tomatoes in the country. I remember opening my first can of First Field tomatoes after moving to Princeton, NJ, and feeling almost shock at the bright and perfect acidity and heft of the crushed tomatoes, along with the deep red color. I don’t mean to put my thumb on the scale but how important is tomato sauce for you on a pizza?
TV: Really appreciate those kind words about our tomatoes! We got into this business because we knew our growers had some of the very best tomatoes, and they do really shine on pizza. But yes, tomatoes are super important in the pizza equation. Making a great pizza is more than just the sum of its parts—dough, tomatoes, and cheese. Tomatoes have to be thick enough that there isn’t too much water, and have enough balance of flavor that whether or not the maker is pre-cooking a sauce or putting the tomatoes on straight, they taste fantastic. Too much water and the dough will be soggy in the middle. Too dry and, depending on the bake, you can end up with the tomatoes being too thick. You need something just right.
MD: Does pizza sauce need to be more than just crushed tomatoes?
TV: That often depends on the type of pie you’re making, but generally crushed tomatoes with a dash of salt and maybe a little olive oil is a common starting point.
Those crispy edges, though…
BEGINNINGS
MD: How did First Field start?
TV: I was renting a farmhouse with some housemates, and started growing tomatoes on one of the fields in the back. There were three fields, and the tomatoes were planted in the first one…First Field. We would sell fresh tomatoes at an honor farmstand while many of us were in grad school or at work, then tend to the fields when we were home. Farm markets came after that. One year we had a bumper crop and started making sauces to sell. Patrick is from Quebec, where many families, including his, have a tradition of making ketchup. So we started making some, and that started selling well. Whole Foods Market picked it up, and we went from there. Our capabilities for growing tomatoes on the scale we needed grew, and we began partnering with larger growers. The canned tomatoes came soon after that, once we could get to the scale we needed.
MD: Do you think of pizza as a communal food? A community food? For example, in my house when we make pizza from scratch both my kids will pitch in. It’s fun to make, fun to be a part of.
TV: Absolutely! Food in general is such a great vehicle for community and being together. Making and sharing pizza together is a fantastic way to be able to meet folks where they are, whatever their ages or taste preferences. Whether you’re a purist with just tomatoes and cheese or you want a handful of salad greens on there, all are welcome.
MD: Theresa, I know dough is really important to you, and I also know that the bread world can be a little sticky (no pun intended!) as to what is and isn’t acceptable in pizza dough. What is your sense of what makes a memorable crust?
TV: This is such a tough question! I started making pizza dough out of a love of making sourdough breads and wanted to give that type of pizza dough a go. Some—many—would say that using levain starter is unnecessary. And it is! I personally find slowly fermenting dough with the same starter I make bread with aligns with why I make pizza at home in the first place. I enjoy it. It’s as simple as that. But I also use regular commercial yeast to make dough, also fermenting it for some time. Both methods make fantastic dough. Both methods can also result in epic fails if something is off. I also like when there’s a slight taste of wheat, and so I put a little, or sometimes a little more, fresh milled wheat in with the dough to give it flavor. But a good, solid, memorable crust is one which it’s clear the maker took care with the dough, it had the right hydration for their oven, and was baked well given their formula and bake temp.
MD: When I first became aware of First Field you were living across from the D&R Canal next door to two poets. In one house was Paul Muldoon, the Pulitzer Prize winning transplant from Northern Ireland, and in another house was Susan Stewart, brilliant poet and scholar. Is there any relationship in your minds between poetry and tomatoes, or poetry and pizza?
TV: Ha, that’s right! That was such a lovely time on the canal. Food and poetry, and food and music are close at heart with us. Wendell Berry is a poet and writer whose writings on farming and agriculture in the U.S. are really special, and important. Then there is one of our favorite songs, “Hang on Little Tomato” by Pink Martini. Not quite poetry, but such a fun song, made even more so when we recently found out at one of their shows that it was based on an old ketchup ad!
Fresh asparagus.
LITERATURE AND TOMATOES
MD: What is your favorite work of literature that celebrates tomatoes or pizza? I think mine must be Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to the Tomato.”
TV: Oh, that’s a good one. Literature on food isn’t something I’ve necessarily read a ton of, though I have read my fair share of books on tomatoes. Canning tomatoes, heirloom tomatoes, vintage tomato breeding textbooks, and food science books. The same goes for pizza and dough more generally. But I haven’t dived into any literature about tomatoes or pizza in particular. There is a great book of children’s poetry that we love at home, When Green Becomes Tomatoes: Poems for All Seasons, by Julie Fogliano. It’s a very sweet way to carry the seasons with little poems and beautiful illustrations. So with where I am right now, I would have to go with that book.
MD: What is your favorite tomato or pizza centered film? Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing? Lawrence Kasdan’s I Love You to Death? Donald Petrie’s Mystic Pizza? Something else?
TV: Oh, what a fun question! Mystic Pizza is forever a classic pizza film, and Big Night has some great moments, like the making of the timpano. And if you have ever run a small farm, the French film Jean de Florette and its sequel Manon des Sources are real gems.
PL: And anyone who considers food preparation as an act of love should watch Babette’s Feast while indulging in their favorite pizza.
The crumb.
NO SOGGY VEGGIES
MD: Is there a topping you would not put on a pizza?
TV & PL: We can’t really say that we think something shouldn’t be put on pizza. But we will say, though, that some types of toppings should be done with care to make them the best versions of what they are. For example, take the veggie pizza. It goes by many names, including the veggie supreme, vegetarian special, etc. A pizza made with vegetable toppings can be absolutely delightful. It can also be awful, with undercooked cheese and soggy vegetables that are just shy of crudités.
A little extra care to make sure vegetables are pre-roasted or sauteed, fairly dry, and not sliced too thick (looking at you, bell pepper) will really deliver. Add a bit of cheese that’s not as mild as mozzarella, like a scamorza or parmesan, even better. When you pile a bunch of any topping in the middle of a pie you’re asking for a soggy crust, but raw, heavy vegetables like peppers, onions, tomatoes, and broccoli that are only briefly baked on the pie will guarantee you a mess of a slice. So that’s a long way of saying that I would never put thick slices of bell pepper or raw florets of broccoli on a pizza.
MD: Is there a topping that would keep you from eating a pizza offered to you?
TV: Generally I always try something once.
MD: Let’s talk moisture! What are your thoughts about moisture? Moisture in dough, in sauce, in mozzarella? I ask because when I was over recently you made a grandma-style Detroit pizza, and it was a revelation to me. I’ve had Detroit-style pizza before but this was crunchy and chewy and cheesy with hits of tangy tomato that didn’t pool or sog-out the pie. Tell us your secrets!
TV: We love that pie too! Hydration in dough, sauce, and topping is definitely top of the list of things that can make or break a pizza. Generally, for a home-oven baked, pan-style dough like a grandma or Detroit I use a higher hydration dough, and bake them with a good amount of olive oil in a Lloyd pan in a very hot oven. For any pie, but especially if you’re going to load the pan pie down with heavier toppings, you need to think through your bake. Par-baking will get you a stronger bottom crust and allow you to really load it up while staying crispy on the bottom and edges and maintaining chew in the center. Once the par-bake is fully done, and you’re happy with the edges and bottom, you can move on to topping it with the sauce, cheese, and toppings, and finishing it off for a few more minutes, including a minute or so under the broiler.
If you want a softer, cheesier middle bite like in our grandma/Detroit pie, I par-bake the dough with about a third of the cheese, so that the cheese bakes into the top layer of the pie but it’s not heavy enough to weigh the dough down. Then once the spring is set and the bake halfway done, the rest of the cheese goes on and the pie goes back into the oven. Then the stripes of sauce go on post-bake. That grandma/Detroit hybrid is our house pie, not as thick as a Detroit but not as thin and dense as a Grandma, with crispy edges and bottom, and the same method for topping. And it suits pretty much everyone here, since depending on your slice you can get lots of sauce, mostly cheese, or somewhere in between. I can go on, but that’s the general method for that pie!
“When you pile a bunch of any topping in the middle of a pie you’re asking for a soggy crust, but raw, heavy vegetables like peppers, onions, tomatoes, and broccoli that are only briefly baked on the pie will guarantee you a mess of a slice. ”
IN YOUR DREAMS
MD: Do you ever dream of pizza? Would you describe your dream?
TV: I dream of getting a round pie to come out of my home oven like one could get with a wood-fired brick oven. I also dream of building a homemade brick oven in our backyard. Since our home oven maxes out at 550 degrees, getting a pizza to come out with perfect leoparding [the spotted look of char that a wood fire gives on the undercarriage], crunch, and chew happens less frequently than I would like. But there are some stellar home pizza makers out there who, with a dance of a perfect dough formula, high heat, oven steels, and broilers, have come darn close to cracking the code. Our deck oven at work gets hotter, but the dough that performs best in that oven is different than the one I make for home, so it’s a work in progress.
MD: Do you ever dream of tomatoes? Would you describe your dream?
TV: Outside of panicky harvest nightmares where I wake up and legit think we’ve lost the whole harvest, there are a few good ones. They tend to revolve around the seeds, the planting, calm fields. They’re intertwined with early days when we would bring our sons to the fields and talk with the growers about what the next few years would bring for our little tomato company, for them, and for the rest of the growers in the region. Some of my most favorite activities around our work with tomatoes is planting seed trays in one of our growers’ greenhouses, talking about which varieties we think will do best, what the weather will be this season, what we’ll do if we lose a planting, or if there’s a bumper crop. It’s generally all positivity and sweet dreams and thinking about those days until August hits; then we see what the harvest has in store.