There is a version of this pizza with tomato sauce underneath, and there is our version, which has none, and my mother will tell you -- has told me, more than once, at some length -- that adding tomato to a pizza built entirely around four different cheeses is an act of cowardice, an attempt to hide behind something familiar instead of trusting the cheese to do the work. I happen to agree with her, though I would not say so quite as forcefully.
Makes one 12-inch pizza.
Heat your oven and stone as you would for any pizza in this chapter. Stretch the dough and transfer it to your floured peel.
Distribute the mozzarella and fontina evenly across the surface -- these are your base, the cheeses that melt smoothly and hold everything else together. Dot the gorgonzola over the top in small pieces, spaced apart rather than gathered in one place, so that no single bite is overwhelmed by it and no bite is entirely without it. Finish with the Parmigiano.
Bake until the cheese is fully melted and beginning to color in spots, and the crust has blistered underneath. Drizzle with a little olive oil the moment it comes out.
If the gorgonzola overwhelms everything else, it was gathered too close together instead of spread out, or you used a piccante rather than a dolce -- either works, but a piccante needs a lighter hand. If the pizza comes out greasy instead of properly melted, the cheeses were piled too thick, or the oven wasn't hot enough to melt them quickly; four cheeses need real heat, or they separate instead of coming together. And if it tastes flat despite four different cheeses, you very likely used a low-moisture, pre-shredded mozzarella instead of something fresh -- the mild cheese here is meant to be a real presence, not a placeholder.