So much more than a brilliant combination to play on a triple-letter tile in Words with Friends, za is what brings us together.
A and I recently reinstated pizza night. Being two years paleo, our pizza experiences were limited to biannual binges at Pete’s New Haven or Puputella’s. The substitute crusts I had tried to make were flimsy, soggy, or just plain pukable so for a year I gave up trying.
A few weeks ago, A was starving; we didn’t want to leave the house and delivery is not an option when clean eating is on the mind. So instead I whipped up a pizza crust. It was quick and easy cheesy peasy. Check it out:
from Jane’s Healthy Kitchen
- 1 2/3 cups almond meal or flour
- 1/2 cup arrowroot powder
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon unprocessed salt
- 2 eggs (Go for pasture-raised, organic if possible)
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic, crushed,
- 1 tablespoon basil or rosemary, chopped
Mix. Arrange in a pizza-crust shape. Bake at 350 degrees F for 20 minutes. Pile on toppings. Bake again for ten minutes. Nom nom nom nom nom nom nom
The best part about pizza night is it is, as A puts it, rejuvenating. We hang out in the kitchen watching the dough rise and prepping ingredients, laughing about what happened during the week and taking a breath to relax without letting our worries or stresses ruin our evening. It’s a grand old time.
And because sometimes on days like these it seems there’s no time for love or pizza, just remember
I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in blurry, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table.
I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as a starfish loves a coral reef and as a kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza.
I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. i will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey.
I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and as an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as the taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. — Lemony Snicket