Homemade Pizza

The first Friday of the month is reserved for recipes. You can see additional First Friday Food posts here.

The Reason:

When I started doing First Friday Food posts, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do with them. I think I had a vague notion of maybe using it to try out new recipes? However, they’ve very quickly turned into a repository for all our best recipes, and I mainly use it to look up all the stuff I need to cook.

So, that being said, I can’t believe I haven’t put this recipe up before! I don’t think we go a single week without making pizza.

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The Journey:

I know a lot of pizza is consumed in America. What do people do? Is it all takeout? Please tell me it isn’t all frozen pizza.

Pizza from a restaurant is so different than homemade pizza that, to me, they’re like separate food items. There’s pizza, and then there’s homemade pizza. Entirely different animals. I could have homemade one night and store-bought the next and it wouldn’t seem weird.

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When I was a kid, we always made our own pizza. It was kind of “our thing” as a family. I remember having friends come over to stay the night and they would be so excited to make pizza. They had honestly never heard of making your own pizza.

I remember one year we made personal pizzas for my birthday party. I suppose these days that’s not that unusual, but back then it was a big deal. Kids went nuts. My mom let us put whatever we wanted on our pizzas. For all my friends who thought pizza could only come pre-made, it was like leaving prison for the first time in 20 years and being handed a million bucks. A little too much freedom. I remember some kids putting ketchup instead of sauce, I think maybe even someone put mustard on one, a couple of people went with gummy worms…it was getting out of control.

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It’s fun to carry on the tradition with my own kids. They love it. We had to buy an extra rolling pin to avoid fights.

There’s just something liberating about tossing anything and everything on the pizza. It’s great, because you can use up whatever you have in the fridge, different people can have different toppings and make it just how they want it (Evie has just crust and sauce, that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less (unless there’s bacon)), and it’s never the same thing twice!

Some of our regular toppings include:

  • Onion (white or red)
  • Peppers (of a variety of colors)
  • Tomatoes
  • Fresh mozzarella
  • Parmesan
  • Pesto (instead of tomato sauce)
  • Assorted spices (e.g. black pepper, oregano, crushed red pepper, garlic powder, dill)
  • Bacon or crumbed sausage
  • Sundried tomatoes
  • Sliced garlic
  • Artichokes
  • Radishes

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The Verdict:

I mean, what’s there to say? It’s homemade pizza.

It’s amazing. Everybody loves it. It’s relatively healthy. It’s pretty easy to throw together. It’s fun. It’s both a food an activity.

Enjoy!

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The Recipe:

  • 1 1/8 cup water
  • 1 Tablespoon sugar
  • 1 1/2 Tablespoons oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
  • 2 Tablespoons wheat gluten
  • 2 Tablespoons flax (ground)
  • 2 1/2 teaspoons yeast
  1. Add everything to your bread machine and run the “pizza” cycle, if you have one. Ours takes 45 minutes and kneads periodically.
  2. Allow the dough to rise for about 30 minutes.
  3. Preheat the oven to 550 degrees.
  4. Roll the dough flat and place it on a pizza pan or cookie sheet. We make two pizzas with this recipe.
  5. Add whatever toppings your heart desires.
  6. Cook for 8 minutes.
  7. Turn off the smoke detector which absolutely always goes off during this time.
  8. Rotate the pizzas and cook for no more than 5 minutes more.

Evie and the “Bee”

Evie and I were swimming in the pool (or rather I was swimming and she was receiving a “dolphin-back ride”), when I heard something large buzzing around my head.

“Is there something buzzing around us?” I asked Evie. “I can’t see it.” “Yeah,” she said, “A big bee.”

I started swimming away from the corner of the pool, but it’s hard to move very fast with a kid hugging your windpipe like it’s her favorite teddy.

“Is it still around us?” I asked, not hearing it anymore. With Spock-like calmness she replied, “It’s on my head. It’s stinging me.”

Just about then I reached a shallow enough part of the pool where I could stand up. I took her off my back and she was as calm and still as could be. Later she told me, “I was thinking, it’s stinging me. Is this what stinging feels like? Why does everybody make such a fuss about it?”

Fortunately for her, I discovered it was not actually a bee on her head. Unfortunately for her, it was a horsefly the size of a silver dollar, and it was positively burrowing into her skull.

I’m sure that a bee sting would have been worse, but there is something absolutely, revoltingly, primally, abhorrent about seeing a giant insect burrowing into your daughter. I shudder even to remember it now. My first reaction was just to pull her under water (which I luckily didn’t do, because I’m quite sure she would take giant biting insects over a surprise dunk in the pool any day of the week), or just get her away from that thing as fast as humanly possible. I actually don’t even remember what I did, maybe flicked it off? And then ran in the other direction? I don’t know.

By the time I got her safely to the shallow end, there was a lot of blood. I quite brilliantly said, “Ohmygoshthere’salotofblood!” It was only at this point that she started to cry.

Now obviously, at the end of the day, all was well. However, as I reflected back on the whole thing I was completely floored by how brave she had been. Thinking that a bee was stinging her repeatedly in the head, she absolutely did what we’ve always told her to do: she stayed still and calm, trusting that startling it would only make things worse. She didn’t panic, she kept her head, and if only it *had* been a bee, she probably would have been fine. Keeping your head in a crisis is a fine trait to have, it’s just unfortunate that it was a horsefly intent on FEASTING ON THE BLOOD OF THE INNOCENT.

Someone wise once said, “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Clearly, this one’s jedi training is coming along smashingly.

 

Quote Monday goes camping

::Ollie getting out of the shower at the campground::
Ollie, to the feet under a different shower: “So, I see you’re done with YOUR shower!”

That boy can start a conversation with anyone…

Me: “Oh no, I forgot my hat and now my head is in the sun.”
Ollie: “Well, I could ride on your shoulders, and then my hat would protect you too!”

Evie: “I’m going to go talk to Grandma about going to the store.”
Me: “Honey, it’s too early, the store’s not open yet.”
Evie: “Well, there’s no sign saying we can’t talk about the store when it’s not open.”

Me: “Can you say thank you to Grandma for buying you that shirt?”
Ollie: “Well, I picked it out.”

Me: “Don’t fall asleep right now, we’re going to stop in a minute.”
Ollie: “You know what? I don’t fall asleep on purpose, I only fall asleep on accident.”

For only the price of a coffee…

I am just so tired of this argument.

These days, everything is Kickstarter or Indigogo, pledge drives or pleas for donations. “Oh, for only the price of a coffee, you could support this, or donate to that!”

Well first off, Mr. Rockefeller, I don’t know who you pal around with, but I don’t know anybody that drops $5 on coffee and doesn’t think twice about it. Maybe on a special occasion to splurge or something, but I guess if you have the kind of money where you spend $5 a day on coffee without blinking, maybe you should be donating some of it.

Coffee club at work cost $0.20 a cup. Twenty cents. So you’re not asking me to give up one cup of coffee, you’re asking me to give up 25 cups of coffee. Twenty five. You’re basically asking me to give up drinking coffee altogether.

That better be a hell of a magazine.

And that’s just your fundraiser. What about the 15 other people who want me to donate to them, “just the price of a coffee”? I can’t bankroll everybody, and I don’t want to. Donations are no way to run a business. Maybe there isn’t a market for some things. Maybe the market is already over-saturated. Maybe you’re just not that good at running a business. I don’t know.

The fact of the matter is, I don’t mind buying a product to support something that I want to support. I even donate on occasion. Just don’t make it seem so trivial. “Oh, just the price of a coffee! So simple!”

It’s not so simple. It’s money. If it were so simple, you wouldn’t be asking me for it.

Garden 2014

I haven’t had a post yet about the garden this year, but it’s going as strong as ever. Lots and lots of tomatoes (15 maybe?), as well as kale, swiss chard, strawberries, and two extremely under-performing basil plants.

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There is also some mystery squash / pumpkin / cantaloup / the Audrey II slowly exploding out of / taking over the chard. We didn’t plant it, but it seemed too big and healthy to pull. A little TOO big and healthy at this point, but we might as well see it through.

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In addition to the garden, we added an additional “garden annex” in the parking lot out back. This one is mostly maintained by the kids, who planted everything, keep it watered (more or less), and eat the peas. Evie’s in charge of the pots, and Ollie is in charge of his “box”, which was made by Grandpa Ron as a birthday present.

parking lot garden

Ollie had two specific things he wanted to plant in his box. His “flowers” – bachelor button seeds given by Lisa that he’s been dying to plant for years…

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…and his pumpkin seeds. Last Halloween, Ollie dismantled several pumpkins at school and saved approximately 200 pumpkin seeds in a box for MONTHS. He was so excited to plant them, but I thought there was *no way* that they would grow. Until, sure enough…

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Unfortunately, the strawberries were really popping while we were on vacation, so we mostly missed out on those. However, we did get enough from elsewhere for Sara to can more than 20 pints of strawberry jam. We also did some mulberry jam, so if you were planning on poaching mulberries from around the neighborhood, too late!

With our jam supply secured for the year, we now wait in hopefull anticipation for all of those tomato plants. Next up, salsa!