Gordon Ramsay's simple '30 second rule' ensures pizza is 'perfect' every time
It's a crowd-pleaser, with its enticing combination of flavours and numerous topping options. However, crafting a perfect pizza can be a daunting task.
To coincide with National Pizza Day (February 9), a straightforward method for creating a delicious pizza has been shared, courtesy of culinary expert Gordon Ramsay.
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In a popular TikTok clip, he reveals his secret to making a delicious pizza, and the video has garnered over 200,000 views. His advice centres on keeping things simple and adhering to the "30-second rule."
Showing people what to do, Gordon said: "The secret is in the execution. A touch of semolina, and use the back of your hands, and all I'm doing is letting the dough stretch.
"Any big blisters, just burst, ok? You've got to be quick and accurate on top of here. Up and over, take your sauce into the middle. Now we want a centimetre from the outside.
"From there, a little touch of mozzarella. Don't go crazy on the garnish, yeah? Be smart, and in she goes.
"Now watch, we cook with our eyes now. Every 30 seconds you've got to turn that. As it starts to blister, in, lift gently, manipulate - all the way under and turn around. 90 seconds guys, and then out."
Then, Gordon tops his pizza with fresh basil and seasons it with some rock salt too. A drizzle of olive oil, and it's good to serve.
Viewers have responded enthusiastically to Gordon's tip, with one remarking: "That man was licking his lips."
Another added: "As an Italian, I approve that." A third said: "Nothing is better than wood fire pizza with basil on top."
Meanwhile, a fourth commenter noted: "Good pizza. Tiny for an Italian like myself, but a good pizza."
While a pizza oven is necessary to replicate Gordon's exact method, his advice is invaluable for creating an authentic Italian pizza.
For those without access to a pizza oven, some suggest using a baking sheet, baking steel or iron rack in a conventional oven to cook a homemade pizza. This can be paired with parchment paper or greaseproof paper to prevent sticking.
A straightforward method involves using a preheated half sheet pan, although it can cool down rapidly. To achieve this, use a rimmed baking sheet and place it on the lowest shelf of your oven prior to preheating.
This will significantly simplify the process of sliding the pizza in and out of the oven.

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USA Today
22 minutes ago
- USA Today
Gay influencer couple Probably This broke up. The response is alarming at best.
Are we, as a society, OK when relationships ending on any sort of stage sends ripples across tens of thousands of people eager to engage in an algorithmic bloodletting? If you've spent any amount of time on the internet, you've probably heard this one before: Internet couple attracts an audience. Internet couple breaks up. Former internet couple's followers try to figure out who gets custody in the split. There's several somethings to be said about living your relationships Extremely Online in an attention economy, and they mostly boil down to this: Influencers are not your #RelationshipGoals. We were reminded of that again recently. On Aug. 16, influencers Probably This – a couple comprising Matt Armato (bald) and Beau Ciolino (not bald) – published a now-deleted video announcing they broke up after 12 years. I found their Instagram account in the depths of my 2020 pandemic doomscrolling and clicked the follow button for their design, renovation and decoration of a charming New Orleans home. Five years later, they've called it quits, but cited an enduring mutual respect and care for each other as they move on. (Armato got the Probably This TikTok account and Ciolino got the Instagram.) From one bald gay to another (though, I promise, not exclusively because of that), I empathize with Armato, whose clear discomfort was the impetus for the audience to scathingly pick Ciolino apart. Accusations of cheating, assumptions about open relationships and critiques of their differing demeanors (Ciolino seemed bubbly in a nervous way; Armato appeared quietly devastated) filled the comment sections of the now-deleted video. The discourse is discoursing, which prompted Armato to post a story highlight to his Instagram page. 'I know the video has sparked a lot of reactions,' Armato writes. 'Please know that there are no teams here. I see your compassion and I appreciate it, but if your support for me looks like tearing him down I don't want it.' People break up. The internet has changed what that looks like. People break up. Everyone does that. But the internet has changed our relationship with how relationships conclude, and it leaves us all spinning through the vacuum where there should be space, peace and processing. Because Armato and Ciolino made a living, at least on some level, by putting their relationship online and commodifying their personal lives, they felt they owed it to their audiences to explain their separation. I'm not part of their relationship, and I don't pretend to be an expert on either one of them. I've followed their content casually at best. But like Facebook rolling out legacy pages for dead users, we're still in the nascent stages of an internet that continues to redefine itself and the relationships around us. As a result, we're not thinking about what happens when a relationship publicly implodes, and our mileage in the aftermath may vary. In this case, we've gone from tablescapes to tribunals. I live for the mess. But we're not entitled to any of it. Admittedly, I live for it. I also desperately need us all to collectively march out our front doors and touch the nearest patch of grass. Perhaps it's that when gay audiences see gay people in relationships, they receive outsize attention and parasocial projections both on the relationship as a concept and also the individuals within them because of the representation the community sees from them – especially considering the historic lack of representation we've felt in spaces that were not ours to create. But, gay people set conveniently aside, the thematic thread in any kind of online relationship is that we're buying what they're selling in an economy predicated on attention. That comes with the highs and, for the more patient among us, the perceived ultimate low: the breakup that unfolds just as much online as the relationship did. Everyone loves a messy fight – at least, at my messiest, I'd water the sidewalk if it meant I could be nosy about an argument down the street – so social media is an ideal front porch to eavesdrop in real time as people and relationships unravel. Still, our parasocial relationships with these couples threaten to (and often do) shift our role as passive observers into active participants. We're not just watching and liking. We're commenting and taking sides in a void of context. Our currency becomes zingy reads and memetic reaction images and backhanded messages of support for one person or the other. That can't be healthy for any of us. Not for an audience that misunderstands our place in a relationship that has invited us in as casual observers. Not for a couple or content creator navigating a difficult space that sees their comment section revolting against the absence of a relationship that doesn't exist anymore. And not for the people somewhere in between, navigating a spew of videos by and about couples who aren't together anymore. What do influencers actually owe you? It's easy to wave this off as a piece of non-reality – it's not real and can't hurt us – but as our younger generations continue to experience higher levels of isolation, the internet grows as a bastion of community and connections, and thus the real-world impacts become more undeniable. The internet is real and it can hurt you. Perhaps there's some schadenfreude there in getting to see the walls crumble down and reality peek through. Real relationships and real people are deeply complicated, take a metric ton of work and you are not promised your idea of success. Seeing that stripped away thrills us because it's a reminder that the influencers who dupe us into buying their display of perfection are not all they pretend to be. It's fine to admire what you aspire for. It's good, even, to identify and appreciate that you have representation. But also accept that you are only getting the version of the story influencers choose for you. This is an attention economy, and they benefit from obfuscating the truth. It should not stop us from pursuing our own and living our lives defined by our own rules. The reality is that we never should've been idolizing relationships like Probably This – or the people who actually live them – to begin with. Otherwise, we're living in a digital panopticon of our own making. Did that former influencer couple ever really owe anyone the truth? And are we, as a society, OK when relationships ending on any sort of stage sends ripples across tens of thousands of people eager to engage in an algorithmic bloodletting? Probably not. Drew Atkins is an opinion digital producer for USA TODAY and the USA TODAY Network. Reach him at aatkins@


Newsweek
23 minutes ago
- Newsweek
Three-Legged Dog Gives Up on Fetch—Then Something Amazing Happens
Based on facts, either observed and verified firsthand by the reporter, or reported and verified from knowledgeable sources. Newsweek AI is in beta. Translations may contain inaccuracies—please refer to the original content. Hearts have melted at the bond between a three-legged dog and her best friend, who helped her find her love of fetch again. Asia the chocolate Labrador retriever is 6 years old, and, earlier this year, lost a leg to cancer, after her dedicated owners spotted a "small lump" in her paw. "Because we caught this so early, it meant we could save her life by amputating the leg as the cancer had not spread to the rest of her body," her owner Jared Power, from East Yorkshire in the U.K., told Newsweek. Now, happily, "the vets have declared her cancer-free," and Asia is slowly but surely getting to grips with life with three legs. Five months after her surgery, Power said that Asia is "regaining her old life back," with the help of hydrotherapy to "strengthen her legs and build stamina." Another big help has been her "best friend," Kiki—a 1-year-old chocolate Labrador who lives just around the corner with her owners Nathan and Nikki, and who became friends with Asia thanks to the power of TikTok. After noticing each other on walks with each of their labs, Nathan and Nikki then spotted Asia on TikTok, and began messaging Power and his partner, Scott Oldridge, to organize a meetup. "They instantly became best friends; in fact, they are like sisters.," Power said. "They look and act so much like each other, and Kiki has really looked after Asia and brought new life into her." This bond was showcased in a video to Asia's account @ on August 15, as the two dogs played fetch together in a park. But as the ball soared across the field, Asia quickly realized she couldn't keep up with Kiki, and simply stood back, watching her run for the ball. But something amazing then happened, as Power described it in the video: "Her best friend could sense Asia was upset, so she stood by and cheered her on." Asia hangs back from fetch, left; and right, Kiki gives her space to chase the ball at her own pace. Asia hangs back from fetch, left; and right, Kiki gives her space to chase the ball at her own pace. TikTok @ This time, as the ball was flung across the field, Kiki didn't move—and Asia rushed toward the ball at her own pace. Kiki moved only once it was time to greet Asia on her return, the ball now successfully in her mouth. "I'm not crying, you are," Power wrote over the video, and added in the caption: "Dogs really are something magical, and we don't deserve them. "Kiki, her best friend, could see her struggling, so something special happened when she decided to cheer Asia on." Power said: "Whenever they are together, they play so gently—I think that Kiki can sense that Asia is a little more fragile. "People think dogs do not have emotions, but my video proves otherwise; you can see so much emotion conveyed in the clip! Kiki really wanted her best friend to feel happy." TikTok users were in tears, watching the video more than 3 million times and awarding it more than 559,000 likes, as one commenter thanked Power: "I needed a happy cry." "Jokes on you, I meant to cry at 8:47 a.m. on a Friday morning," another posted, while a third commented: Yes. I am in fact crying." And as a fourth put it: "I was not emotionally prepared for this." From left: Asia and Kiki rest on the grass; and wear party hats. From left: Asia and Kiki rest on the grass; and wear party hats. TikTok @ Dogs can cope well on three legs, but it can take time to adapt. After amputation, owners should follow the vet's aftercare instructions carefully, and look into a slowly increasing exercise program to build strength in their remaining limbs, pet-food manufacturer Purina says. Ensure the dogs' favorite places, such as the sofa or bed, are easily accessible via ramps or steps, and keep a close eye on their weight, as any gain could put a strain on their remaining limbs. Allow plenty of time for rehabilitation and adjustment, and don't be afraid to seek more information from professionals if you have any concerns. Do you have funny and adorable videos or pictures of your pet you want to share? Send them to life@ with some details about your best friend, and they could appear in our Pet of the Week lineup.


Los Angeles Times
an hour ago
- Los Angeles Times
Meet Ty Myers, Gen Z blues guitarist turned TikTok country heartthrob
Among the half-dozen tattoos Ty Myers has accumulated in his 18 years on earth, 'probably the dumbest,' he says, is the armadillo he picked out from a set of ready-mades at a festival in Oklahoma. 'They had like 20 options they could do quick,' the singer and songwriter from Austin, Texas, says with a shrug. Myers has a plan to improve the tattoo, though, next time he's home in the city where his hero Willie Nelson famously found renewal in the early 1970s at the Armadillo World Headquarters. 'I'm gonna add a red bandanna and put Willie braids on it,' he says — a music nerd's reference to the fabled honky-tonk that shuttered nearly three decades before he was born. Myers, whose other tattoos include the name Leroy (after Jim Croce's 'Bad, Bad Leroy Brown') and the logo of Muscle Shoals, Alabama's FAME Studios, is a young person with vintage tastes. His 2025 debut album, 'The Select' — its title nods to the Parisian brasserie from Hemingway's 'The Sun Also Rises' — puts bluesy guitar riffs against low-slung soul-rock grooves, as in the twangy 'Let 'Em Talk' and the waltz-time 'Ends of the Earth,' which has been streamed more than 70 million times on Spotify and is slowly moving up the country radio chart. Yet the singer has built his growing audience the new-fashioned way. In 2023, not long after he started posting music online, his song 'Tie That Binds' went viral on TikTok; these days, the platform is filled with videos of teenage girls, many even younger than Myers, screaming along with him at concerts like the one he played this last weekend after a Royals game at Kansas City's Kauffman Stadium. His latest single: a stately '70s-style ballad called 'Through a Screen' about falling in love with someone you've never met in the flesh. 'I knew yall would relate to this one,' he wrote on TikTok in one of the many, many videos that teased the song before its release last Friday. As a clean-cut heartthrob type, Myers stands out somewhat in the country scene, which has been dominated over the last few years by the burly, bearded likes of Luke Combs and Jelly Roll and, of course, by Morgan Wallen, whose lightly villainous bad-boy energy is as crucial to his popularity as his knack for a deviously catchy hook. In Myers' music, which he writes mostly himself, even the drinking songs feel pretty suave; he's always using his dreamy eyes to beam a gentlemanly sincerity. 'I don't think I've ever tried to be seen that way,' he says with a laugh over coffee at the Chateau Marmont during a recent swing through Los Angeles. 'Obviously, when I'm onstage doing the flirtatious stuff and it gets a reaction — that's all part of it. And I love clothes — style definitely plays into it too. But that's never been at the forefront of my mind.' Even so, one of the music industry veterans behind Myers acknowledges that he was 'seeking a gap in the marketplace' when he signed the singer to his label. 'Everything in country was feeling a little mature,' says Barry Weiss, who founded the company he calls simply Records after heading up the Jive and RCA labels in the late '90s and early 2000s. 'You're trying to hit the ball where they ain't. And I felt like there wasn't a male country artist who's really young and really appealing to young folks.' Why not? 'Generally speaking, the Nashville community is very purist,' Weiss says. 'The minute someone feels young, it means they don't have musical credibility, which is so not the case with Ty. I mean, he's basically John Mayer and Otis Redding in an 18-year-old's body.' That's perhaps an overstatement. But it's true that Myers backs up his fresh-faced good looks and his cutesy social media content with real chops. His guitar playing is casually assured, and his voice has a weary scrape beyond his years; as a songwriter, he knows how to punctuate a story with a burst of emotional detail, as in his song 'Help Ourselves,' where he and a duet partner, Harper O'Neill, play a couple stuck — if that's the word for it — in a toxic relationship. 'This ain't no goodbye / You'll come crawling back when you've had your fill,' Myers sings, bruised but still steady. 'I'll get a call in the night at half past 12 / Three months later, I should f— myself.' (Hey, he's a good guy, not a choirboy.) Myers grew up in Dripping Springs, Texas, as part of a musical family that includes a great-uncle who co-founded the band Lonestar and another great-uncle who plays keys for George Strait. By elementary school, he was known around town as a singer — 'I vividly remember my PE teacher making me get up and sing 'Check Yes or No' for the whole gymnasium,' he says of the old Strait hit — and at 11 or 12 he discovered Stevie Ray Vaughan on YouTube. 'It was 'Lenny' from 'Live at the El Mocambo,'' he says, referring to the blues-rock star's classic concert film. 'I was like, 'That's what I want to do.'' Playing guitar and writing songs became 'a borderline addiction,' as Myers puts it, that he squeezed between going to school and playing football and baseball, the latter of which he described as 'a way of life in Texas.' Yet a sports injury in his sophomore year — 'Blew my knee out and tore everything: ACL, MCL, meniscus, PLC' — took him off the field. Myers' mom made him a TikTok profile to help focus his attention on something else; his sister, he says, became 'the mastermind' of his online presence. The 'Tie That Binds' video blew up while the family was on vacation in Key West, Fla.; Myers recalls an instant deluge of queries from record labels and management companies, including Nashville's Starstruck Entertainment, the firm headed up by Narvel Blackstock, who was married to Reba McEntire from 1989 to 2015. 'My mom obviously grew up watching Lonestar on the CMAs and the ACMs, and she remembers every time Reba would win an award, they'd pan to her and Narvel right next to her and pop his name up on the screen,' Myers says. 'So they knew who he was.' (Blackstock's son Brandon, who worked with his father and had two children with his ex-wife, Kelly Clarkson, died this month of cancer at age 48.) Myers signed with Starstruck, whose other management clients include Blake Shelton and Carly Pearce, then spent about a year taking meetings with labels. 'I think we met with all of them,' Myers says. 'By the end, I was about done with meetings.' Weiss recalls flying to Austin to meet with the singer and his parents. 'The mom recognized my name because she saw me written up in the Britney Spears book,' says the exec, who helped shepherd Spears, NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys to stardom. 'That can cut both ways, but it turned out to be a huge positive, because she's a Britney fan.' Myers says he went with Weiss' company, which signed the singer in a joint deal with Columbia Records, in part because Weiss understands 'how to use youth in a way that propels you instead of it being like, 'Well, he's really young …'' Though Weiss predicts that 'Ends of the Earth' will end up a top 5 record at country radio — 'if not a No. 1 record,' he says — both he and Myers are thinking bigger than the country audience. 'We're talking about girls in Greenwich, Connecticut, coming to these shows,' the exec says. Yet 'trying to make super-commercial pop records — that would be the kiss of death,' according to Weiss. Myers has been recording his next album at FAME, the studio known as the cradle of the so-called Muscle Shoals sound popularized by Aretha Franklin, Wilson Pickett and Etta James. And he's playing more gigs on the road this year than he ever has — 109 at last count. It's a number he's thinking of commemorating with one more tattoo, maybe when he fixes his armadillo, since he can get it done legally in Texas now after turning 18 last month. 'Some places are tough with it,' he says. 'We called a shop in Austin a while back: 'Hey, it's a 17-year-old — think you can do it?' They were like, 'No, that's child endangerment.'' He laughs. ''Jesus, I got two months, then you'll do it, no question.''