Lemon Pizza with Fresh Herbs: My Fresh and Zesty Home Recipe

Let Me Tell You About the First Time I Made Lemon Pizza…

If you’d told me years ago that I’d be obsessed with putting lemon on pizza, I’d have probably laughed and offered you some boring old pepperoni instead. But one summer—the kind where the days are sticky-hot and my herb pots looked like overgrown jungle—I saw this idea for lemon pizza online (think it was Smitten Kitchen, though honestly it’s all a blur now). Anyway, I gave it a whirl. Disaster the first time—lemon slices too thick, cheese everywhere. But after a couple tries, and a bit of help from my cousin Jamie (who burns toast but can zhoosh up a salad like nobody’s business), it turned out amazing—so bright and fresh you almost forget you’re eating pizza. Sort of. Oh, and pro tip? Don’t let the cat near the dough if you let it rise on the table. Long story.

Why You’ll Love This (Honestly, My Family’s Hooked)

I make this when it’s just way, way too hot to eat heavy food (or when my fridge is half herbs and half leftover cheese). My family goes a bit wild for it because it’s not your usual pizza — it’s tangy, light, and full of fresh flavour. Plus, you get to say ‘I made lemon pizza’ at dinner, and honestly people look at you like you’re a genius or slightly unhinged, which is fun. I will say, slicing lemons thin enough is a proper faff, but once you get the hang of it, you’ll never go back to soggy wedges — trust me, you don’t want to chomp into a big hunk of lemon rind. Oh, and if you’re worried about it being too tart, just use less lemon. Or more cheese. Or pizza is really just a choose-your-own-adventure—at least in my kitchen.

Here’s What You’ll Need (But Feel Free to Wing It)

• 1 ball of fresh pizza dough (about 250g, but honestly, store-bought or homemade both work—I sometimes use naan if I’m in a rush)
• 1 lemon (organic is best for the zest, but use what you’ve got)
• 1–2 cups shredded mozzarella (or use torn buffalo mozzarella—my partner swears by this stuff)
• 1/2 cup ricotta or goat cheese (if you want extra creaminess, and sometimes I just use whatever soft cheese is lurking in the fridge)
• 1/4 cup grated parmesan (if you have it, but honestly, no one notices if you skip it)
• 2-3 tablespoons olive oil (get the good stuff out for this—it really shines)
• Handful of fresh herbs: basil, parsley, chives, tarragon—pick what you fancy (I sometimes grab oregano straight from the garden, when it survives my not-so-green thumb)
• Salt and freshly cracked black pepper (or a scattering of chili flakes if you want a kick)

How I Throw This Together (With A Few Detours)

1. First, heat your oven as high as it’ll go. My ancient oven maxes out just over 250°C (that’s about 480°F), so I just crank it and hope for the best. If you’ve got a pizza stone, use it, but if not, a heavy baking tray works too—just flip it upside down so the pizza slides off easier later (learned that the hard way!).
2. Take the dough and stretch it (or roll it, no judgment) into a roundish shape. It never comes out perfect for me – sometimes more of a squashed oval – but that’s charm, right?
3. Drizzle a bit of olive oil over the top, then scatter the mozzarella as evenly as you like. Dot with ricotta (or whatever cheese you have). Grate a little bit of lemon zest over the top—you want just enough to get that lemony zing without overpowering it. I usually use about half the lemon for zest.
4. Here’s the tricky bit: slice your lemon super thinly. I mean almost see-through—like you can read the newsprint under it. Layer these slices around the pizza. If slicing lemons is not your jam, just grate on some extra zest instead. Works a treat.
5. Sprinkle over parmesan. Hit with a good pinch of salt and a few cracks of black pepper. Drizzle again with olive oil (this is where I tend to get carried away—just don’t drown it).
6. Slide onto your hot tray or stone and bake till the edges are bubbling and golden, 8 to 12 minutes—sometimes less if your oven is a beast. Don’t worry if a few cheese volcanoes erupt; that’s life. At about the 8-minute mark, I usually peek in and—well, maybe grab a burnt bit of cheese from the tray.
7. Once baked, shower it with loads of fresh herbs (I am basically reckless here—it goes green). If you still want more lemon, squeeze a tiny bit of juice over the top, but go easy. Let it cool for a minute—unless you love seared fingers—slice, and eat right away.

Things I Learned By Messing Up (A Lot)

• If the lemon’s too thick, it goes bitter and chewy—not nice. Honestly, grating zest is way less risky if you’re nervous.
• The first time I skipped the olive oil drizzle… yeah, don’t. It really does matter to avoid dry patches.
• If you overload with cheese, the middle gets soggy. But honestly, is there a worse problem to have?

Little Experiments (Some Good, Some Not So Much)

• Tried it once with thinly sliced zucchini under everything—A+ if you need more veg. The kids didn’t notice, which is a win in my book.
• Added a sprinkle of chili flakes pre-bake—delicious, but a smidge too spicy for my gran. Maybe next time just on half?
• Don’t try blue cheese instead of ricotta unless you like your face puckered. That was not my proudest moment.

Stuff That Helps (But Isn’t Always Necessary)

• A pizza stone gets the base really crisp, but I’ve made it loads of times with a basic metal tray—just get it super hot in the oven first. No rolling pin? I’ve used an empty wine bottle. Works a charm.

What About Leftovers? (Not That We Ever Have Them)

This pizza’s pretty nice cold, actually, and I think the lemon flavour is even better the next day. Just pop the leftovers in an airtight tub in the fridge—good for 2 days. Or, if you’re me, stand at the fridge door and eat it straight from the box. (No shame!) But let’s be real: it almost never survives the first evening here.

How I Like To Serve It (And What My Sister Says)

Cut into skinny wedges for a picnic (I wrap mine in greaseproof paper if we’re heading to the coast—bonus: the seagulls hate lemon), or serve as part of a bigger meal with a herby salad and a cold drink. My sister insists on dunking hers in garlic yogurt, which I always say is blasphemy, but hey: to each their own.

Hard-Won Tips (I Messed These Up So You Won’t)

• Don’t skip letting the dough rest—tried to hurry it once, and it was like eating a rubber frisbee. I know it’s annoying to wait, but it’s worth it.
• Go easy on the lemon slices your first time. (Seriously, too much and you’ll feel like you’re eating a cleaning product. Sorry but it’s true!)
• Actually, I find it works better if you toss the herbs on after baking rather than before, otherwise they go all limp and lose their punch.

FAQ (Real Questions From Friends and the Odd Internet Stranger)

• Can I use dried herbs instead of fresh? You totally can, but it’s not really the same—fresh gives it that summery wow. But if it’s winter and your windowsill’s barren, just use a pinch of dried, and maybe up the olive oil a tad.
• Is it weird to put lemon on pizza? Look, I used to think so too, but it works—trust me on this. The lemon caramelizes and almost melts into the cheese. If you’re nervous, start with lemon zest only. Baby steps!
• Any shortcuts for dough? For sure, and I have on tired weeknights—use supermarket pizza bases, naan, or even a flour tortilla (for a crispy, cheaty version). Not the same, but still tasty.
• Can I make it vegan? I haven’t tried all-vegan cheese combos yet, but Minimalist Baker has some great plant-based suggestions; just use your favorite swaps.

And that’s it—I know this was a bit all over the place, but I hope you enjoy tinkering with lemon pizza as much as I do. If you give it a go, let me know how it worked out!