![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
And the sweet, sweet smell of burnt^H^H^H^H^cooked onion fills the air.
My first thought was: This will be pizza the way it ought to be made.
My second thought was: Holy crap, I'm going to have a lot of pizza.
"The way it ought to be made" is from scratch, beginning by dissolving yeast into water on the way to making dough. This is, naturally, the first place that things could go wrong. After all, I have no way of measuring 110-degree water, and if it's off by ten degrees either way PEOPLE DIE! So I guessed, and let the faucet get as hot as it could, and used that water, which naturally cooled off instantly. Unfazed, I started mixing up the dough, and let myself be fascinated as the flour did its magic. Eventually I had a blob of stuff that felt about right. Hey, I'm supposed to knead this stuff?
I push it around in the bowl, vaguely remembering and mimicing the fold-push-repeat motion that I saw somewhere. It was either a cookbook or a porn, and I'm definitely hoping the first. Eventually the stuff got awfully stiff and thick, so I cover it up and put it in the oven to rise. (The oven's been off since last night. I'm not entirely clueless.)
Next step, although rising is two hours of waiting, is to assemble the ingredients. Now, my pizzas are not to be trifled with. I once went to the Muddhole and asked them to make me a pizza with everything on it. (They refused.) But I went to the store last night with the direct purpose of finding anything I could reasonably put on a pizza, and getting some. As such, I came home with olives, mushrooms, and pineapple to supplement what I already have. Added to these are the ham, chicken, and onions I already had here - the latter two sauteed (frozen water into hot oil! fuck, my forearms, the splattering!) to kill stuff and dull the taste, respectively. Now the whole mess sits in a bucket in my fridge, waiting for the dough to rise.
I hope I have enough sauce. Correction - I hope I have enough sauce in the jar that I already have opened. If I open the second one, I'll feel compelled to use up the rest of it in the next week or two. Of course, I probably don't, with my luck.
Um, I'm making a giant pizza. I'm the only one here who'd eat it. Anyone interested in an impromptu cooking group, by which I mean you come over here and eat* pizza that may or may not actually turn out? It should be done sometime around 9:00. There's also the usual assortment of things to do that have already been here, which I've listed enough times before.
But OMG is there going to be a lot of pizza.
click
*Offer void where prohibited, outside the Claremont area, to vegetarians, kosher Jews, or those squeamish to fungus
My second thought was: Holy crap, I'm going to have a lot of pizza.
"The way it ought to be made" is from scratch, beginning by dissolving yeast into water on the way to making dough. This is, naturally, the first place that things could go wrong. After all, I have no way of measuring 110-degree water, and if it's off by ten degrees either way PEOPLE DIE! So I guessed, and let the faucet get as hot as it could, and used that water, which naturally cooled off instantly. Unfazed, I started mixing up the dough, and let myself be fascinated as the flour did its magic. Eventually I had a blob of stuff that felt about right. Hey, I'm supposed to knead this stuff?
I push it around in the bowl, vaguely remembering and mimicing the fold-push-repeat motion that I saw somewhere. It was either a cookbook or a porn, and I'm definitely hoping the first. Eventually the stuff got awfully stiff and thick, so I cover it up and put it in the oven to rise. (The oven's been off since last night. I'm not entirely clueless.)
Next step, although rising is two hours of waiting, is to assemble the ingredients. Now, my pizzas are not to be trifled with. I once went to the Muddhole and asked them to make me a pizza with everything on it. (They refused.) But I went to the store last night with the direct purpose of finding anything I could reasonably put on a pizza, and getting some. As such, I came home with olives, mushrooms, and pineapple to supplement what I already have. Added to these are the ham, chicken, and onions I already had here - the latter two sauteed (frozen water into hot oil! fuck, my forearms, the splattering!) to kill stuff and dull the taste, respectively. Now the whole mess sits in a bucket in my fridge, waiting for the dough to rise.
I hope I have enough sauce. Correction - I hope I have enough sauce in the jar that I already have opened. If I open the second one, I'll feel compelled to use up the rest of it in the next week or two. Of course, I probably don't, with my luck.
Um, I'm making a giant pizza. I'm the only one here who'd eat it. Anyone interested in an impromptu cooking group, by which I mean you come over here and eat* pizza that may or may not actually turn out? It should be done sometime around 9:00. There's also the usual assortment of things to do that have already been here, which I've listed enough times before.
But OMG is there going to be a lot of pizza.
click
*Offer void where prohibited, outside the Claremont area, to vegetarians, kosher Jews, or those squeamish to fungus
no subject