This is what I have been doing the past couple of days:
Wake up. Skip breakfast. Make pizza. Eat pizza. Count the hours until I get hungry again. Eat pizza with renewed glee and abandon. Count the hours until I get hungry again. Wake up. You get the point.
It's the first time I've made pizza with a crust I actually enjoy. Per usual, there are no pictures. Because you know what a pizza looks like. And because I have no time for pictures where there are pizzas to be consumed. I will, however, point you to where I got the recipe. It's easy and straightforward and not unlike other recipes I've tried. The only difference this time around is how much I cranked up the heat, and pre-baking just the oiled dough in a hot pan for a few minutes before adding the toppings on.
I'm not sure why I'm even telling you this about this pizza. I don't care if you make one or not. And there are more pressing matters at hand: It's a gorgeous Saturday for being outside, but even a better one for some early baseball in front of the TV.
(Did you see this article, Sister Claire? It made me sad. Because I'm afraid it might be true.)
1 comment:
Yes, it is both sad and true. I have no hope for them this year.
Another sad bit of news is I've made myself sick eating too much ice cream with toppings at my work's Spring Ice Cream Social this afternoon. But I am going to finish the last of the M&Ms, Butterfinger, and white chocolate bits remaining in my dish.
Hope all is well. Keep posting.
Sister
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