Hey, my precious lambs! It’s Mariah Carey, kicking off the heels and sashaying into my kitchen for Mariah’s Culinary Butterfly. Today, I’m serving up a timeless gem—Margherita Pizza. We’re talking that perfect trio—crisp dough, sweet tomato sauce, creamy mozzarella, kissed with fresh basil—a pie so simple it’s pure magic. I’ve been obsessed since my first bite in Italy years back, and honey, I’ve made it my own at home. Grab a seat—we’re rolling this step-by-step, and I’m spilling every saucy, cheesy secret.

Pizza’s my soul food—those childhood dreams of hot slices, me sneaking extra bites under the table. Margherita’s the queen—clean, bold, no fuss, just flavor that sings. Delivery can’t touch it—soggy crusts and tired toppings don’t compare to this fresh, handmade love. I’ve burned crusts, stretched dough ‘til it tore, but every flop got me here—a pie that’s all me, all heart. It’s not hard—takes a little time, a little vibe—but when it’s done? You’ll feel like you’ve conquered Naples in your own kitchen.

This is us—me and you, tossing dough, layering goodness, maybe swaying to Dreamlover while the oven hums. Takes about an hour plus rising time, and it’s a masterpiece for 4-6 hungry souls—perfect for a cozy night or a loud crew. Crank the heat, grab your peel, and let’s make this Margherita magic happen, darling!

What You’ll Need (For 4-6 Lambs)

For the Dough

  • 2 ¼ cups 00 flour (or all-purpose—00’s my Italian flex)
  • 1 teaspoon active dry yeast (instant works too)
  • 1 teaspoon salt (kosher’s my vibe)
  • 1 teaspoon sugar (just a pinch—wakes the yeast)
  • ¾ cup warm water (not hot—110°F, baby’s bath temp)
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil (extra virgin, ‘cause we’re extra)

For the Sauce

  • 1 can (14 oz) San Marzano tomatoes (whole, peeled—trust me)
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil (smooths it out)
  • ½ teaspoon salt (to taste—keep it light)
  • 1 teaspoon sugar (cuts the acid—my twist)
  • 1 garlic clove, minced (optional—tiny kick)

For the Topping

  • 8 oz fresh mozzarella (balls or log, sliced thin—buffalo’s luxe)
  • 8-10 fresh basil leaves (big, green, fragrant—don’t skimp)
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil (drizzle it, darling)

Gear

  • Big mixing bowl (dough’s gotta stretch)
  • Wooden spoon or hands (I’m a hands girl)
  • Kitchen towel (clean—covers the rise)
  • Medium saucepan (for sauce)
  • Rolling pin (optional—I stretch by hand)
  • Pizza peel or baking sheet (peel’s pro vibes)
  • Pizza stone or steel (stone’s my jam—crisp crust)
  • Oven (crank it—500°F or hotter)

Step 1: Make the Dough

Let’s get that base going, lambs—dough’s the heartbeat. Grab a big bowl—dump in 2 ¼ cups 00 flour, 1 teaspoon yeast, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon sugar—whisk it dry so it’s happy. Pour in ¾ cup warm water—too hot kills the yeast, too cold stalls it—add 1 tablespoon olive oil. Stir with a wooden spoon ‘til it’s shaggy, then get in there with your hands—knead it on a floured counter, 5-7 minutes, ‘til it’s smooth like a baby’s cheek. First time, I overworked it—tough as a brick—now I feel it, soft and bouncy.

Shape it into a ball, back in the bowl—drizzle a little oil, cover with a towel. Let it rise—1-2 hours, warm spot, ‘til it doubles. I’ve forgotten it—left it all night once, puffed like a balloon, still worked. Smells yeasty, alive—takes me back to my first bakery trip, nose pressed to the glass. Kids hover—“Is it ready?”—gotta shoo ‘em ‘til it’s time.

Mariah’s Tip: Punch it down gentle—keeps it airy, not flat.

Step 2: Whip Up the Sauce

While dough rises, let’s sauce it, honey—simple but fierce. Grab that can of San Marzano tomatoes—crush ‘em by hand in a bowl, juice and all, messy but fun. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a saucepan—medium, not blazing—toss in minced garlic if you’re wild (I skip it sometimes, pure tomato vibes). Pour in the crushed tomatoes, add ½ teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon sugar—stir it, simmer 10 minutes ‘til it thickens. Taste it—bright, sweet, a little tangy—my secret’s that sugar, cuts the bite.

First batch, I oversalted—puckered my face, dialed it back. Kids dipped spoons in—sauce on their chins, me laughing. Cool it down—too hot on dough makes it soggy. Smells like an Italian summer—takes me to that trattoria in Rome, me in shades, pie steaming. This ain’t jar stuff—this is love, lambs.

Mariah’s Tip: Blend it smooth if you’re fancy—rustic’s my jam.

Step 3: Shape the Pie

Dough’s puffed—time to play, lambs. Punch it down—gently, let it breathe—plop it on a floured counter. Divide into 2 balls for 12-inch pies (or 1 big 16-incher if you’re bold). Stretch it—hands over fists, pull slow, let gravity help—aim for thin but not tearing, rustic edges are gold. I’ve ripped it—patched it up, still ate it. First try, I rolled it—too flat—now I stretch, feel it, make it mine.

Lay it on a floured peel—or a baking sheet if you’re chill—wiggle it, make sure it slides. Kids jump in—“Let me!”—dough flies, we giggle. Smells doughy, fresh—takes me back to my first pizza flop, me crying over a tough crust. This time? It’s light, ready, screaming for sauce.

Mariah’s Tip: Flour underneath—stuck dough’s a tragedy.

Step 4: Top It Right

Here’s the Margherita soul—less is more, lambs. Spoon that sauce on—3-4 tablespoons per 12-inch, thin layer, leave a border for crust. Slice 8 oz fresh mozzarella—thin rounds, scatter ‘em even—don’t pile, let it melt natural. First pie, I overloaded—cheese soup, lesson learned. Drizzle 1 tablespoon olive oil—shiny, lush—save basil for after, keeps it green. Smells like a promise—tomato, cheese, oil mingling—takes me to my first Italy trip, me wide-eyed, pie in hand.

Kids beg—“More cheese!”—I hold firm, this is classic. Looks simple—red, white, green—but it’s everything. I’ve messed it—too much sauce, soggy base—but now? Balance, beauty, pure Carey vibes.

Mariah’s Tip: Pat mozzarella dry—wet cheese kills crisp.

Step 5: Bake and Feast

Oven’s hot—500°F minimum, 550°F if you’re wild, stone or steel preheating 30-45 minutes. Slide it in—peel’s a dance, quick flick—or shove the sheet. Bake 8-12 minutes—crust golden, cheese bubbling, edges blistered if you’re lucky. First time, I peeked too much—lost heat, limp pie. Now I wait—smell it, hear it sizzle—pull it when it’s screaming. Top with 8-10 basil leaves—tear ‘em, scatter fresh—drizzle more oil, slice it hot.

First bite—crisp snap, sweet sauce, creamy cheese, basil pop—me moaning, kids grabbing. Made it for friends—gone in 5 minutes, me glowing. Delivery’s a ghost—this is my pie, my win, my table. Smells like victory—takes me back to every pizza dream I’ve chased.

Mariah’s Tip: Hot stone’s key—crank it early, lambs.

Why I’m Obsessed

This Margherita’s my heart—simple, pure, hits every note. Dough’s a hug, sauce a kiss, cheese a melt—basil ties it up pretty. Easy but feels luxe—perfect for quiet nights or big vibes. I’ve burned it, patched it, cried over it—now it’s mine, lambs. Try it, snap it, holler at me on Mariah’s Culinary Butterfly. What’s your pizza love? Spill it—I’m all ears!

Love,
Mariah