Monday, March 02, 2009

I Am an Italian Grandmother

Some days, I stand over my food and say, "Holy shit, look what I made." Then I eat it. The pizza pictured above is a great example of this because I managed to make the dough, the sauce, and the cheese from scratch. The dough recipe is courtesy of the Cease, whose pizza making experience includes a day with the big dogs and a subsequent homeschooling, not to mention the many undocumented pies that have graced his pizza peel. The sauce came from Batali, a fragrant and chunky mess that lent a rustic touch to my amateur pizza (I think I went a little heavy on the herbs). The mozzarella cheese was another "almost there" attempt on my part using Ricki Carroll's recipe (I'm hoping that a few more tries will finally yield that stretchy consistency I'm after). The prep ate up most of my Saturday, but knowing exactly where my food came from (almost) makes the time spent in the kitchen totally worth it. Buen provecho.

1 comment:

  1. Clearly Marcus, if you are an Italian grandmother you must be vigilant about shrinking until you disappear. Italian g-ma's don't actually die--they just shrink until you can't see them anymore.

    PS--did you utilize red pepper flakes and roasted garlic in the gravy? Because if you failed to so do, you are not my Italian grandmother.