Meet Joe Beddia, the man behind America's best pizza

They say that to be proficient at anything, you need to have practised it for at least 10,000 hours. By American pizzaiolo Joe Beddia's calculations, he's made more than 10,000 pizzas in his time. Some say that makes him a pizza genius. But Beddia wouldn't. He's not that kind of guy.

While the former brewer doesn't come from a strict cooking background (haute cuisine beatings and coolroom breakdowns are not part of his narrative) he's had a lot of lessons in patience. As have the people who came to know and love his pizza at the famous 27-square-metre corner shop in Fishtown, Philadelphia.

Pizzeria Beddia became well known in 2015 when Bon Appetit (the influential American food taste-maker) named it Best in America. The pizza cook went from selling 20 to 30 pies a day to selling out within a few hours. "It was insane," says Beddia. "I feel like I'm a pretty humble person, and it's like it f---ing turns your world upside down. I wasn't used to the attention."

Maybe it's this unprepossessing attitude and the fact he doesn't really believe his own hype that makes him the force he is. Certainly, there's a singularity to the way he works.

The queues for his nostalgia-driven American-style pies would start first thing in the morning and continue until Beddia had sold his last pizza.

It f---ing turns your world upside down. I wasn't used to the attention."

Joe Beddia

He made enough dough for 40 pizzas a day, and 40 only. There was no telephone for calling ahead. No online ordering. No mass orders for big parties. No takeaway. No alterations. No tables. No toilets. Many disappointed faces when Beddia would hang up the Sold Out sign. It wasn't exactly a business model made for difficult customers. But all Beddia cared about was making the best pizza he could.

His style is all about throwing back while looking forward. His methodical, meditative approach to the craft, favouring simplicity and classicism over gimmickry, is something Beddia became hooked on while in Japan brewing for craft beer artisans Hitachino Nest. But it was a slice at the Savoy (the 13-seat Tokyo pizza temple offering just two styles – marinara or margherita) that changed him from a Man Who Dug Pizza into a Pizza Man.

"It was everything," he says. "I just connected to it on another level. It's like anything that's good, simple – it's about product. I remember we went for lunch and my brother got the marinara. I thought it was better than the one with cheese on it. It didn't even make sense to me. I was like, 'This is like sorcery'."

When he eventually returned to the US, he travelled the country eating in the best pizzerias. He name checks (now-closed) Great Lake in Chicago as an influence. "They brought the sensibility that a chef would bring where they used organic flour, all the vegetables were coming from a farm, using really good meats. I think that really made it stand out."

So Beddia's expression developed from that time he spent in Tokyo, with flavours based on memories of his uncle's pizzerias he used to visit as a kid, using very good local ingredients. It's all designed to give the person eating it a sense of nostalgia. Of being a kid again, wrestling with a classic '80s American slice. "That's is a really important thing to me. That pizza that I make, that flavour profile, is exactly the same one of my childhood."

Earlier this year, after five years of 14-hour days, just after his 41st birthday, Joe Beddia closed the doors on his little shop. "I absolutely loved it, but towards the end, it was like, 'I'm not going to sign another five-year lease'."

He describes it as a hard but enjoyable slog. But with little opportunity to enjoy life outside of those four brick walls, he needed to make a choice: partner with someone bigger, or stop making pizza altogether. He chose the former. His new place will open later this year with 100 seats, a wine list, and possibly even a phone.

It'll be an interesting transition for a guy who's used to spending a lot of time on his own listening to music or communing with pizza dough in silence. "It's so meditative, so peaceful. I love that part of it. That was the best part of the whole day almost."

Beddia certainly doesn't do things at a pace. He likes to marinate on everything. "For me to even develop a pizza recipe that I was comfortable with, and then to get my s--- together to open a pizzeria … that took years."

So to go from working solo to working as part of a larger hospitality machine in Philadelphia where he'll be managing and mentoring others is a little anxiety-inducing.

"I almost feel like a fraud," he says. "I feel like that all the time. I look in the mirror like, 'really?' I don't know. Most of the time I feel very fortunate. And I should probably think a little bit higher of myself I think but … whatever."

The big question is how he'll feel relinquishing complete control of something so personal. "A lot of people ask me if I'm worried about [having business partners], but I'm like, 'they should be worried about me. I'm the wild card in this situation'."

Quickfire corner

Music to cook to I like quiet stuff. Bill Evans. Thelonious Monk, Kurt Vile, Willie Nelson.

After-midnight snack I'm trying to be healthy these days. I feel like I keep a lot of hummus in my house. But you always have to put extra virgin olive oil on it. And I love hot sauce.

Kitchen weapon at work I would probably just say my hands. I mean that's like the number one. It's like if you were to f---ing cut your finger and you have a Band-Aid on it, your whole day is shit.

Formative food moment My mother's best friend's family was from Calabria, and I would stay with them sometimes. They were these were poor, humble Italian people that didn't really speak English. They were basically like my grandparents. The mother used to make Italian-style bread once a week and she would make these sandwiches. The crust was so hard it hurt my teeth. She would fry the bread a little bit in olive oil, and then she would fry green bell peppers, and that was the sandwich. And it was like, nothing, but it tasted so good to me. It was definitely memorable at a very young age. It's an emotional f---ing thing, thinking about your own life and everything involved in it.