Since traveling to visit my sister in NYC last year and re-aqauiting myself with Italian cooking, I've been making pizza from scratch. I've finally perfected THE METHOD. I cook it out on my gas grill with a pizza stone on the grate. It's just like what you'd pay too much money for from a greasy pizzeria. But so much better.
Inside the grill, I get the temperature at a constant 550 degrees and then put the pizza topped with whatever I want, on the stone. I watch it pretty carefully, making sure the crust turns a bubbly, crispy brown and then I slide it onto my pizza paddle. (Yeah, I own one of those. Deal with it.) It tastes just like a wood fired pizza. Yum.
But it wasn't all good pizza all the time. I managed to drop a bunch of flour and cheese onto the kitchen floor which meant I had to get out the vacuumn cleaner or as I like to call it, Lord Watson Wellfleet, my adorable Pug. Here's his photo and admire PugMan. The beauty with him is my lovely daughter, Blythe.
Just so Ya'll know, Watson lost a few pounds since this photo was taken. I took a pretty good tongue-lashing from the vet last year because of Watson's girth. His kibble portion's been cut in half and he's been whining ever since.
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