Pizza, unprocessed

October 2, 2018

Ready to go into the oven

So here’s how you unprocess a pizza. First, you see proscuitto at a good price at Aldi, and you buy a package, never mind you have four in the freezer at home, and you think to yourself, “Self? That’d be fine on a pizza!)

And self agrees it most assuredly would. So you and self set about buying mozzarella cheese, as well, because you don’t know if you have any or not, and when you get home, you make pizza dough.

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Time for baking

April 8, 2018

King Arthur Flour harvest grains loaf

Hadn’t baked in a while, so…it was time for

Veggie pizza with labneh, a la Man’oushe’

bread.

And pizza.

I’ve been reading through a new cookbook, Man’oushe’, Inside the Lebanese Street Corner Bakery. It’s all based around dishes involving and accompanying Lebanese flatbread, which is, essentially, a pita. And they top them with assorted stuff like you would a pizza, so I

thought I’d try that.

And I was in the mood for some multigrain bread, and I’d gotten some multigrain mix from King Arthur Flour recently, so I made that, too. And I am here to tell you, it makes some fine breakfast toast.

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Gluten oops

January 31, 2012

Monday. Lunch at a little meat and three that’s beEn a favorite for ages. Order meatloaf, candied yams, cucumber salad. Eighty percent certain meat loaf had breadcrumbs, and cornbread had flour. Ate ’em anyway. Yep. They had flour.

Today. Called in an order for take-and-bake pizza from Papa Murphy’s. Stuffed, extra pepperoni, extra cheese. They have a special, order one stuffed, get a HawaIran for $8. I love Hawaiian pizza. Ok, give me one of those, too. Twenty minutes. OK. “click”

Ninety seconds later, lightbulb clicks on. Idiot. You can’t eat pizza. Call back. Cancel Hawaiian, keep the stuffed. Go early to pick up, go to deli next door, get a Cobb salad. Get home. Salad has croutons. Pick croutons off. Croutons have crumbled. Salad sucks, anyway. Feed chicken and bacon to dog,  pitch remainder. Eat pineapple and cottage cheese, drink wine. Grouse about it.

Celiac disease sucks. You and y’mama’n’em try to stay away from it.

Tonight was a cheat. I was SUPPOSED to go to the gym. However, the fact the temp had dropped 31 degrees between the time I went to work and the time I came home was, I thought, likely a Sign From God that I needed to stay my ass at home tonight.

So I did. But I cheated and used the prep from the weekend — pizza dough — to make dinner.

I did a pepperoni-and-mozzarella pizza for NS:

Yup. Pizza. That's what it is, awright.

 

And for me, there was calzone:

I love you, Mark Bittman. This crust freakin' ROCKS.

 

This calzone was on the experimental side, and on the whole, was quite good. I’d made some creme fraiche a week or so ago, and after discussing its utility (other than sweetened, over fruit), I decided to try mixing it with some ricotta and using it in calzone. I added some caramelized onions I had kicking around in the fridge, some dried oregano and basil, some grated parmigiano, and some proscuitto. Folded it over (easier than a top and bottom crust!) and baked.

A thing of beauty. I don’t know that I care for the creme fraiche in it; the tang it imparts just isn’t what I wanted here. But the onions and the proscuitto? Yes, ma’am. I contemplated sun-dried tomatos, too, and on reflection, I shoulda tried ’em. Would have been good.

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Goes a long way to soothe the afteraffects of a tough day. Well, it and wine.

It has been a most eventful day.

There was a text at 5:28 a.m. “Crystal’s water broke. We’re having the baby today!”

Crystal is our Aussie receptionist. We have taken on this baby as an office project. As Crystal’s husband was working out of town, we had girls in the office who were ready to go to the hospital, into labor and delivery with her, and others who were going to take care of her toddler.

Then, as we were leaving to take NS to school, early, so he could make up a test, and I clicked the clicker to unlock the door, and there was….silence. No beep. No click. A dome light left on overnight will do that for you.

Then there were meetings. And flights to book. And crises to manage. And Child C with strep throat.

And I got home, and there was pizza dough on its third night in the fridge, which means, well, it needs to be used. So we had pizza.

The one above was mine. Fresh tomato, sliced thin and drained on a paper towel; diced fresh mozz, grated parm, basil, and at the last minute and because I felt like it, chopped barbecued beef I’d brought home as a leftover from lunch at Purity t’other day.

The crust is Bittman’s, with the exception that I subbed a cup of whole wheat flour for one of the three cups of a/p flour, because it was about what I had left in the bag and I wanted to get rid of it. So I did. It was pretty damn good. WW pizza dough wants a bit more salt, I think. In any event, mine was excellent, and NS said his was good as well.

Here is the one NS built:

Standard teenager pizza; red sauce, white cheese, meat. It works.  It has Ragu, grated mozz, grated parm, and pepperoni. He was happy.
And now I have to go bake a cake, so I can frost it in the morning, and brown some ground beef and onions and garlic for taco soup, because I’m going to make a crock-pot full of that stuff to eat tomorrow night and to take to Crystal and family when they get home.
So you and y’mama ‘n ’em have a good evening while I go back in the kitchen and get busy again.

Thanksgiving detritus

November 28, 2010

Ouefs en cocotte. Made even fancier with an addition of cheese grits.

Some time later….stock, minus stuff in it, is sitting on the front porch, chillin’.

Well, one to-go cooler, two loads of dishes, and a big bag of trash later, all the remainders of Thanksgiving are dealt with.

The bird’s remains are simmering on my stove, for turkey stock that’ll be strained, reduced and frozen for future meals. Meat plucked from the bone is in a baggie in the fridge, waiting to be portioned out with stock (to be frozen for future casseroles/soups/etc.). and to go in the to-go cooler. My holiday house guest is leaving this evening, and I’m sending home with him all the leftover stuff the kids didn’t like and I’m tired of eating, as well as sharing the turkey and the cranberry salad, albeit grudgingly for the latter. I’ve thrown away dribs and drabs of stuff, and I’m finally about to be where I can live with my fridge and my kitchen again.

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Bite me, Papa John's. I got yo' ass whipped. I'm just sayin'.

Hello, family. Hello, kitchen. Hello, blog. Hello, readers — if there are any of you left out there, in the wake of my hiatus. Been home three nights, cooked two of them, including this veritable masterpiece tonight.

Pretty thing, isn’t it? Last night was lasagna, which I will blog later this weekend, because I’m going to make it again, more of which later. But tonight, I for some reason had a jones going for perhaps the first time in 25 years for homemade pizza. And homemade pizza we had.
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