My mother-in-law used to laugh at pizza dough recipes that called for "1 teaspoon of active dry yeast" and an hour of rising time. She would slide a pizza into the oven within ten minutes of deciding she wanted one. Her secret was two ingredients she kept in the kitchen all the time.
The two ingredients
Self-rising flour and plain Greek yogurt. No yeast. No proofing. No anxious hovering while a dough doubles under a damp cloth.
The ratio is simple: 1 cup of self-rising flour to 1 cup of Greek yogurt. Full-fat works best, but low-fat is fine. Stir them together with a fork until shaggy, then turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead for about thirty seconds — just until it holds together in a smooth ball. If it sticks to your hands, add flour one tablespoon at a time. If it crumbles, add a spoonful of yogurt.
Rolling and baking
Dust the counter generously. Roll the dough out to roughly 30 cm (12 inches), or whatever fits your tray. It stretches more like biscuit dough than bread dough — patient, not elastic. If it springs back, let it rest two minutes and try again.
Slide it onto a lightly oiled baking sheet, or lay it on a hot pizza stone. Top it as you like: a thin layer of sauce, mozzarella, whatever is in the fridge. Don't pile it on — the crust is thinner than you're used to and it can't carry much weight.
Bake at 220°C (425°F) for 12–15 minutes, until the edges are golden and the cheese bubbles.
Why it holds together at all
Self-rising flour already has baking powder and a little salt mixed in. The acid in the yogurt reacts with that baking powder and gives the dough a small, fast lift in the oven — enough for a crust that is tender and slightly puffy at the edges. There is almost no gluten development, which is why it stays soft rather than chewy. If you want a little more structure, let the dough rest ten minutes before you roll it out.
What it cannot do
It will not give you the char and pull of a long-fermented sourdough. A Neapolitan purist would walk out. But for a weeknight when you want pizza in forty minutes, not four hours, this dough earns its place.
My mother-in-law made it most Fridays. She never measured. She just knew — a handful of flour, a spoonful of yogurt, press it flat. By the time she taught me, there was flour on both our aprons and no measuring cup in sight. That is, I think, exactly how it was meant to be learned.
