Those two things seem to go together like Abbott and Costello, Spongebob and Patrick, movies and popcorn, red wine and dark chocolate. . . well, you get the idea.
When I learned I needed to give up wheat to heal my skin, I honestly thought I’d never have a decent pizza again. Frozen crusts, well, not bad in a pinch, but they are just that. Frozen crusts made on an assembly line. Blah in the flavour department. I’m done with assembly line food. I am my own assembly line now.
Pizza night is also a great way to use up leftover random things in the fridge. Those last two roasted peppers? Chop ’em up. Had tacos earlier in the week? Leftover ground beef? Fry up those last two strips of bacon. Pull out that brick of frozen spinach and thaw that baby out. Squeeze the water out so your ‘za isn’t soggy. You get the idea. . .
Two pizzas will do our family of four with a couple of slices for the next day for lunch. I set out double dishes and make two separate batches. I made it once just doubling the recipe and was met with, let’s say, bad? results. Double the dishes and double the clean up isn’t fun, but I’d rather do that than throw out a large bowl of glop and have no pizza.
Years ago, my mother-in-law won a raffle basket with various food items in it. Among the odd things was a squeeze bottle of ‘pizza oil’. She regifted this my way. I have always enjoyed making pizza, even when I did eat wheat. I would get the kids up on footstools and have them help top the crusts. This oil was somehow magical. I have no idea who made it or what was in it. Those pizzas left your fingers with a thin oily slick that turned paper towels orange. I’m sure if I found that oil now, some of the ingredients could be questionable.
I still love pizza on a friday night. Grab a slice and find a movie.