You know what I see?
I see victory.
You know what Brian sees?
He sees both a few ways to insult me and a few ways to compliment me.
Me: I finally succeeded at making pizza! I think it tastes like New York style. …Do you like it?
Brian: (flat tone) Yeah. It’s alright.
Me: (after a while) I’m gonna need you to be more excited about this. This is my first time succeeding at making homemade pizza. I made the crust. I made the sauce. I remembered the pepperoni!
(Brian HAS TO have pepperoni or it’s not technically pizza. He’s very picky about this.)
Brian: I’m eating it, aren’t I?
Me: Pfffffffffff… *mocking, as if it’s complimentary* “I’m eating it aren’t I?”
Brian: Ha ha. You know what I mean.
Me: Is it at least better than Little Caesar’s?
Brian: Definitely better than Little Caesar’s. But not Papa John’s.
Me: I’m okay with second place.
Brian: Third. First there’s Papa John’s, then there’s Vocelli’s.
Brian: No wait, fourth. First there’s the Papa Johns, then Vocelli’s, then Pizza Hut… No, fifth…
Brian: Domino’s… No, wait. Sixth. FIRST is the pizza at the Winchester Mall, THEN Papa John’s…
Me: Well, am I at least better than Cici’s?
Brian: Oh, definitely better than Cici’s. Look, you’re at least better than all the pizza I’ve ever had in New York.
Me: *thinking* That’s an ironic compliment given the fact that I prepared him for the first bite by comparing it to a New York style pizza.
I think Brian and I lost count as to how far behind I was trailing the more established pizza joints. Given the fact that the pizza didn’t stick to the pan (thanks to the advice to use corn meal under the crust), I felt like it was a home run.
To recap: The crust came from a Pinterest recipe calling for equal parts Greek yogurt to self-rising flour. Easy-breezey. I pre-baked the crust for 5 minutes at 400 degrees before topping it with sauce, cheese and pepperoni, then baking it for another fifteen minutes.
We can now commence a weekly tradition.