Even when we are on vacation, I cook. Yes, I know that vacations are supposed to be about rest and relaxation, and they are for me… believe it. The thing is, eating out all the time would get really boring… not only for me, but for my family as well.
I don't cook every night when we are on vacation, but I do on most evenings, and last night was not different. Last night, as is our Saturday night custom at home, we went to Whole Foods (and boy, let me tell you, the Whole Foods, here in Orlando, is a whole different place than the one in Springfield, Virginia!) and got all of the stuff that we needed to make pizzas, and then went "home" to settle in for some TV time and some good chow.
While Bridezillas and other scintillating shows were on, I was about to roll out our pizza dough (whole wheat), when I realized that our kitchen didn't have a rolling pin! The lack of a rolling pin could have been a major deal breaker, so I used my McGyver-like intuitive skills, and decided to use a large beer bottle (1 pint, 6 ounces) that I had sitting on the counter that I was going to use in a beer review*.
Having rolled out our dough into a quasi-circular shape (I admit that I thought the dough was shaped vaguely like Australia) I brushed it with white clam sauce. Yes, I know people brush pizza dough with olive oil, and yes, I have olive oil in the cabinet, but hey, this is my recipe, ok? So, after brushing with white clam sauce, I sprinkled that dough with a bit of Italian seasoning, garlic powder, and parmesan cheese (all amounts to taste, of course).
Next I spread some of the sausage that was already browned and diced (I used spicy cilantro chicken sausage), and then used the cheese grater to grate some gorgonzola picante around the dough (not too much, mind you, because that is strong cheese). Finally, I sprinkled that "fiesta blend" cheese and the remains of the sausage on the dough, and we were oven-ready.
I baked the pizza at 385 (Fahrenheit for those that might be reading from the metric lands) for about 15 minutes, until it was all golden on top! Here are your results. For the sake of full disclosure, I have to report that I made two pizzas one for me and the Mrs. and one for Soccer Girl. Soccer Girl's pizza was mad the same, except that I used Kalamata olives instead of sausage (hey, she has her own tastes, you know?).
So, last week, I mentioned that I was going to go back to my blooging roots and start writing for me again. I also mentioned that I was going to "Write hard" as my friend Becky calls it. Well, I hope that at least some of you remember, this is what I spent a lot of time talking about on the old blog.
I like to cook, I like to eat, I like to write. There it is.
- The beer was called "Beer of The Gods", from the "High & Mighty Beer Co." It is described as "unfiltered, unpasteurized and uncompromised hoppy blonde beer". It should have been called "Syphillitic Mule Piss of The Gods". I have never tasted worse beer in my life. Never… and trust me, warriors, I have made the consumption of good beer (and good vittles) part of my life's work (which is why I resemble a chocolate brown Jabba The Hut, but I digress), and I know good beer from bad. I am telling you quite seriously, this beer was bloody awful. Don't drink it, even on a lark.