Pizza!

The other day, for the first time ever, I made my own pizza at home! Look at it. It's beautiful.

In my world of limited culinary adventures, this is A Very Big Deal. The pizza wasn't made completely from scratch, however. I used Bob's Red Mill Gluten-Free Crust mix, although I added my own touches (sprinkling of parmesan cheese) to it for baking. I can eat wheat and don't have celiac or anything, but I've noticed that I tend to feel better when I don't over-do it on the wheat. I'm always interested in the options. Good gluten-free pizza crust is hard to find, and I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked it. Even TBF liked it. Well, he just might have felt like he had to say so, but more on that later. I bought a canned pizza sauce, but I also doctored that up with herbs from the garden, garlic, and a few sprinkles of red pepper flakes. I used tomatoes and basil from my garden as toppings, in addition to olives, marinated artichoke hearts, mushrooms, and a sprinkling of leftover tomato Field Roast the TBF and I had used for sandwiches. Delicious!

Another reason why making my own pizza was A Very Big Deal is that TBF and I had just arrived home after a lovely sunset motorcycle ride on the Uly through Leschi to Seward Park. On the way back, we ended up on a back road up a hill that overlooked the I-90 bridge across Lake Washington. The view was gorgeous in the evening light with the huge, faintly orange moon making an appearance in the distance. By the time we got home, it was on the late side for dinner, and I felt even more pressure about the pizza turning out. By the time it proved to be a dud, our dinner options would be limited.

Luckily dinner came out as lovely as it did, but there was one problem. Even though I heavily greased the pan, the crust still stuck rather firmly to it in places. It was a chore to cut and serve the slices. It added serious time to the overall preparation. Destruction was imminent. I had come so far to nearly see my hopes dashed by sticky crust. So, naturally, I freaked out a little bit.

TBF came into the kitchen to see if he could offer assistance, and I ended up snapping at him, "It's sticking! I don't want you to watch me do this!" I continued to wrestle with the pan with my various tools while he retreated back to the safety zone: The Couch. A few moments later, I looked over and noticed him huffily flipping through my Lucky fashion magazine. I could hear him thinking, I bet Jessica Alba doesn't get all neurotic over pizza! Among other things.

Can you get a good look at the pizza pan in the picture? It's one of my parents' throwaways from my childhood. I'm positive it's at least as old as I am. Ancient. After this little fiasco, I figure I should pony up for a new one if I want to make pizza again. Every day I'm still learning these little life lessons. Rustyoldbattered pizza pan = Bad.