Friday is Pizza Night

It’s a rainy super cold day here in Sparkle City.  A good day to stay inside.  I already ran outside (woo-hoo for me!).  It’s really more of a wun or a ralkrunalk, perhaps?  I am a big fan of running/walking intervals.  Around interval 6 the dog started shooting meaningful glances back my way through the misty drizzle, but I told her to man up (dog up?) and finish it.

Let’s do this thing, Boudreaux!  She was not inspired, but when you are attached to a person by a nylon lead, you do what they say.  For the most part.  Begrudgingly.

Anyway, Emma and I are going to a friend’s house for a girls’ movie night, but I am still making the sacred pizza dough for our never-forsaken pizza night.  Because 3/5s of our family will still be at home.  Justin cannot eat tomato sauce, so he gets his own special pizza.  The boys like pepperoni, and Emma is a plain-jane cheese kinda gal.

It takes a lot for me to get excited about making pizza dough, so here’s my special secret ritual:

First, one must have a recipe.  How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman is my go-to for pizza dough.  I’ve tried others, but this one is the most consistent for me.  Which is saying a lot, because I lose count when measuring out cups of flour.  Was that five? or six?  Yikes!  It’s always an adventure.  But he just says, if it’s sticky, add a little more flour.  If it’s dry, add more water.  This I can do.

Fleischmann’s RapidRise Yeast – two packets because I double the recipe.   I can count to two usually, so I do better on yeast than flour.
Dough blade for the food processor.  I keep all of my food processor accessories in Jack’s old lunchbox.
Pizza dough in a flash!  Love a food processor.  But I just got mine for Christmas, so before I would always use the dough hook of my stand mixer.  Results were still good.
There it is, my little bundle of doughy happiness.  Now it has to rise in a warm place for an hour or two.  Good luck in this house I tell it, because my eskimo-blooded husband has made sure there is no warmth to be had.  In fact, our heating bill was less than it was last year when there were two people in their eighties living here.  He is very proud of that, but I say it just goes to show you what I endure every day in the arctic tundra that is our home.  Though now that I think about it, I’m the only one complaining.  Will wears shorts every day.  Maybe I should be quiet.
The warmest place in our house is a bed, but I would have much to explain if Justin came home to a bowlful of pizza dough snuggled up under the covers.  I have decided against it.

I’m trying to warm my hands over this candle.  I also wash the dishes a lot in the winter, because I can get the water super hot and then linger over every bowl and spoon until the circulation returns to my extremities.  OK maybe I’m exaggerating.

 

Music while cooking is one of life’s little joys.  Plus the wooden spoons are handy microphones in case I need to belt out some Aretha Franklin while stirring.

Happy Friday everybody!

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