Our super good family friends, Ruby and Glenn, opened up a
personal pan pizza joint in Taipei a couple of years ago. I love these guys and if you are ever in the city, you must vist them. The dough is made from scratch (as in by hand by hand, as in no industrial mixers on the premises) and each pizza is made to order. I used to ride on Glenn's shoulders when I was little (but not that little- he still let me get away with it when I was 9 and gave me a piggy back ride today just to prove that he could) and Ruby made my award-winning science fair poster for me when I was in the third grade.
When I finally visited their restaurant today (in a new, swanky location) and got to watch them in action, I made a joke about spitting in the pizza dough for some extra flavoring.
Glenn: Maybe it'll rise differently with the spit.
Moi: Spit is warm. It will totally help with the rising.
Glenn: You've been into gross out humor ever since you were little.
Faux Godmother: Really?
Moi: Wasn't I always good and quiet?
Glenn: That, yes, and I can't remember specifics, but I'm pretty sure you joked about some disgusting things when you were little.
I have no recollection of this.
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