Here’s the deal.
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Neapolitan pizza is just pizza from Naples, Italy.
That’s it.
But oh boy, what a pizza it is.
Soft in the middle. Puffy around the edges. Charred spots here and there. Fresh stuff on top.
It’s the pizza that started everything.
And honestly? Once you try a real one, regular pizza feels different.
I’m going to tell you everything about this pizza. No chef talk. No complicated words. Just the good stuff.
Let’s get into it.
Naples is a city in Italy.
Italians call it “Napoli.”
So Neapolitan just means “from Naples.”
When Italians say it, they say “Napoletana” (sounds like nah-poh-leh-TAH-nah).
Pretty simple, right?
This pizza was born there hundreds of years ago. Poor folks needed something cheap and fast to eat. Someone put tomatoes on flatbread, and magic happened.
The rest is history.
Want to know more about Italian pizza history? Check this out.
Look, I’ve eaten a lot of pizza.
And there’s something about Neapolitan that just hits different.
Here’s why people lose their minds over it:
It’s simple. Like, really simple. Just a few fresh ingredients. Nothing fancy. But together? Wow.
It cooks super fast. We’re talking 60 to 90 seconds in a crazy hot oven. That’s why you get those beautiful charred spots.
The crust is like a cloud. Seriously. The edges puff up and get all airy inside. Crispy outside, soft inside.
Fresh everything. Real tomatoes. Real cheese. Fresh basil. You can taste the difference.
The pizza is so important that UNESCO said “hey, this is cultural heritage.” That’s the same list as the Pyramids and the Great Wall of China.
For pizza.
I mean, come on.
The official pizza association in Naples even gives out certificates to pizzerias that do it right.
This might surprise you.
Real Neapolitan pizza has barely anything on it.
I know, I know. We’re used to piling stuff on. But Naples does it different.
The classic Margherita has:
That’s the whole list.
No pepperoni. No mushrooms. No pineapple (sorry, not sorry).
There’s also the Marinara:
Even simpler. No cheese at all.
The idea is this: when your ingredients are amazing, you don’t need much. Each thing shines on its own.
It’s like the difference between a simple home-cooked meal and a buffet. Sometimes less really is more.
Learn about San Marzano tomatoes here.
People always ask me this.
And the answer is… both.
The outer edge (Italians call it “cornicione”) is crispy on the outside. But when you bite in, it’s soft and airy. Like good bread.
The middle? That’s where it gets interesting.
It’s soft. Some people even say “wet” or “soggy.”
And guess what? That’s how it’s supposed to be.
I know that sounds weird if you’re used to crispy pizza. But trust me on this.
The fresh mozzarella releases moisture. The tomatoes are juicy. The pizza cooks so fast that everything stays fresh and tender.
It shouldn’t be a swimming pool. But a little softness in the center is totally normal.
If you want cracker-crispy pizza, that’s Roman style. Different thing entirely.
Okay, this is where the magic really happens.
Neapolitan pizza dough is stupid simple. Four ingredients:
No eggs. No sugar. No oil (at least not in the traditional recipe).
But here’s the thing. Simple doesn’t mean easy.
Getting this dough right takes practice. And patience. Lots of patience.
You’ve probably heard about “00 flour.”
It’s just Italian flour that’s ground super fine. Like powder.
The “00” means it’s the finest grind they make. Think of it like sandpaper grades, but for flour.
Why does it matter?
This flour makes the dough stretchy but not tough. It handles crazy high heat without burning. And it gives you that soft, tender crust.
Regular flour works okay. But 00 flour is better for this style.
Caputo is the brand most pizza makers use. They’ve been making flour since 1924.
Here’s what most people get wrong.
They rush the dough.
Good Neapolitan dough needs TIME. Like, a lot of time.
The best pizzerias let their dough sit for 24 to 72 hours. Just hanging out. Fermenting slowly.
This does two things:
I know waiting is hard. But your pizza will thank you.
Get my simple dough recipe here.
Pizza nerds talk about this all the time.
It’s just a way to figure out how warm your water should be.
The goal is to keep your dough at a consistent temperature while it rises.
Here’s the simple version:
Take your room temperature. Add your flour temperature. See how far from 110°F you are. That’s roughly your water temp.
Honestly? If you’re just starting out, use room temperature water. It’ll be fine.
Save the math for later when you’re really into it.
Two stages here.
First rise: The whole batch of dough sits together. About 2 to 4 hours.
Second rise: You divide it into balls. Each ball rests another 4 to 24 hours.
Cover them up. Keep them at room temperature. Don’t mess with them too much.
Yep.
If you leave dough too long, it gets:
At room temperature, 24 hours is usually the max.
In the fridge? You can stretch it to 3 to 5 days.
Cold slows everything down.
This is the part that makes Neapolitan pizza… Neapolitan.
Traditional ovens hit 800 to 900°F.
That’s not a typo. Almost 500°C.
At that heat, pizza cooks in about a minute. The bottom gets those leopard spots. The edges puff up fast. Everything stays fresh and bright.
Real talk: your home oven won’t get that hot.
Most top out around 500 to 550°F.
But you can still make good pizza. It just won’t be exactly the same.
Here’s what helps:
Get a pizza steel. It holds heat better than a stone.
Preheat forever. Like, an hour at least. I’m serious.
Use the highest temperature your oven has.
Put the steel near the top of the oven.
Turn on the broiler at the end for some char.
Work fast when you’re loading the pizza.
I’ve made really good pizza in my regular oven. It takes some practice, but it’s totally doable.
Check out the best pizza steels for home.
Okay, this is fun.
In Naples, most people fold it up.
Fold in half. Then fold again. Now you’ve got like a pizza taco. Eat from the point.
They call this “a libretto” which means “like a little book.”
It gets messy. That’s part of the experience. Bring napkins.
Some people use a knife and fork. That’s fine too. Nobody’s judging.
The point is to enjoy it. However works for you.
Usually no.
You get the whole pizza. Uncut.
You decide what to do with it.
Tourists sometimes ask for cuts. Locals usually don’t.
Neither way is wrong. It’s just different habits.
Some places cut pizza with scissors instead of a wheel cutter.
Why? The center is soft. A wheel drags the toppings around.
Scissors make cleaner cuts.
It looks weird the first time you see it. But it makes sense.
I love both. There, I said it.
But they’re really different.
Neapolitan pizza:
New York pizza:
Italian immigrants brought pizza to New York. But they had to adapt.
Different flour. Different ovens. Different customers.
A new style was born.
Makes sense honestly.
New York pizza is:
Neither is “better.” They’re just different.
Neapolitan is like a special experience. New York is reliable everyday pizza.
I want both in my life.
Compare all pizza styles here.
I’ve made all of these. Learn from my pain.
Using too much yeast. The dough rises fast but has no flavor. Less yeast = longer rise = better taste.
Not waiting long enough. Patience. Please. Give it time.
Being too rough. Handle the dough gently. You’re trying to keep those air bubbles inside.
Using a rolling pin. Big no. This squashes all the air out. Use your hands.
Cold dough. Let it warm up before stretching. Cold dough fights back.
Cooking the sauce. For Neapolitan, use raw crushed tomatoes. Don’t cook them first.
Too much sauce. A couple tablespoons is enough. Seriously.
Over-seasoning. Salt and basil. Maybe garlic. That’s it.
Wrong tomatoes. San Marzano or bust. They’re sweeter and less acidic.
Too many toppings. Heavy toppings = soggy pizza.
Cold toppings. Let your mozzarella get to room temp.
Pre-shredded cheese. Get the real stuff. Tear it by hand.
This drives people crazy.
You want that puffy, airy crust. But you’re getting flat bread.
Possible reasons:
The dough didn’t rise enough. Give it more time.
Your yeast might be dead. Test it first.
You pressed out all the gas when shaping. Be gentle, especially around the edges.
Your oven isn’t hot enough. Crank it up.
Too many heavy toppings weighing it down.
Wrong flour. High-protein flour makes tough crust.
Fix one thing at a time. See what helps.
“Should I put olive oil in my dough?”
Traditional answer: No.
Real Neapolitan dough is just flour, water, salt, yeast. That’s it.
Modern answer: A little bit doesn’t hurt.
Oil makes the dough:
It’s not traditional. But it’s not a crime either.
What you SHOULD do: drizzle olive oil on TOP after baking. That’s classic.
Ready to try?
Here’s what I do.
Day 1:
Mix water and yeast. Let it sit a minute.
Add most of the flour. Mix with your hands until shaggy.
Add salt. Add remaining flour.
Knead for 10 to 15 minutes. It should feel smooth and springy.
Cover. Let it rest 2 hours.
Divide into 4 balls (about 200g each).
Put balls in a container. Cover. Refrigerate overnight.
Day 2:
Take dough out 2 hours before you bake.
Let it warm up.
Preheat your oven as hot as it goes. Pizza steel inside. Wait an hour.
Stretch each ball by pressing from the center outward. Leave the edges alone.
Add sauce (just a little). Add torn mozzarella. Add basil.
Slide onto the steel. Bake until edges are puffy and spots are charred. Maybe 5 to 8 minutes in a home oven.
Drizzle with olive oil. Eat immediately.
Compared to frozen pizza or chain pizza? Yes.
Real ingredients. No weird preservatives. Reasonable portions.
One pizza is roughly:
It’s not salad. But it’s not junk either.
Eat it. Enjoy it. Don’t stress.
Everyone asks this.
There’s no real answer.
50 Top Pizza does rankings every year. The top spots change.
Some famous places:
Honestly? The best pizza is the one you’re eating with people you love.
Cheesy answer. But true.
How do Italians say Neapolitan?
Napoletana (nah-poh-leh-TAH-nah)
Can a Sicilian understand Neapolitan dialect?
Mostly, but not completely. It’s like Portuguese and Spanish.
What’s the strongest Italian accent?
Many say Neapolitan. It’s very distinctive.
Who invented pizza?
Nobody knows for sure. It evolved in Naples over time. Raffaele Esposito gets credit for the Margherita in 1889.
What’s the 2-hour rule?
Don’t leave pizza dough at room temperature for more than 2 hours without refrigerating. Food safety thing.
Neapolitan pizza isn’t complicated.
Flour. Water. Salt. Yeast. Tomatoes. Cheese. Basil.
That’s basically it.
But turning those simple things into something amazing? That takes practice. And patience. And love.
In 2026, people all over the world are learning this craft. Home bakers. Professional chefs. Pizza nerds like me.
We’re all chasing that perfect pie.
You don’t need a fancy oven. You don’t need to go to Italy (though you should if you can).
You just need to start.
Make your first pizza. It’ll probably be rough. That’s okay.
Make another one. And another.
Before you know it, you’ll be making pizza that makes people really happy.
And isn’t that the whole point?
Now go make some pizza.
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