It isn't every day that I eat pizza or pasta. Hardly ever, in fact. I made a deal with myself long ago that because of my love for chocolate (see my Valentine's Day post), I decided not include other delicious things that I cherish in an effort to maintain a healthy physique and "order in the house"... well, ahem... currently, that has been tossed out the window. You might be aware that it has been an unusually bitter and protracted winter here in New York. I keep saying to myself, "when I'm overcome with heat during the city's oppressively humid summer, I'll wish it was cold like this!" But because winter has been so ferocious, I have actively sought out THE MOST comforting comfort foods, and am having quite a lot of fun with the results.
Not too long ago, I decided to make a pizza. Two small ones, in fact. I usually go for red and saucy but this had none, save for a drizzle of olive oil at the end. I had seen it from recipe grazing on the web over a year ago, and saved it for who-knows-when. The ingredients are simple and yet the result is so flavorsome I would make it again in a heartbeat: a crust with just the right bite, oozing cheese, meaty mushrooms, and buttery slivers of potato... What's not to love?
In my story, there's also a lasagne tale... Scroll down for the juicy bits on that. :)
This recipe is divine! Please let the pictures (and my vigorous encouragement) speak for themselves. :)
My lasagne has a somewhat sad ending, but fear not. There is romance and passion, and it turned out amazing. There's just a wee problem that happened along the way...(notice the absence of my gorgeous, baked and bubbling tray of lasagne?)
What happened I vow will never happen again. So delighted was I with my tray of perfection, I hurredly scurried with oven mitts and hot pasta to the studio from the kitchen. While pulling a board from the shelf to set it upon (not looking at said tray in the other hand), it promptly slid right off my mitt and exploded on the floor. CRASH. I was red, shocked by the calamity in front of me.
There was no way to repair this defeat and all I could do was scoop the poor thing off the (thank god freshly cleaned) floor... all the lessons we get taught by parents or bosses or teachers or whoever flashed before me and I could have just kicked myself, dammit. Because I am a masochist, I had to know what exactly I had ruined with a little nibble from my trashed masterpiece. It was outrageously tasty...I think this means that somewhere down the road there is a lasagne re-match awaiting me. Hopefully, it won't take another crazy winter to bring me to the stage, so I can indulge in its spicy, cheesy, incredibly savory layers for real.
Thank you for sharing in this little drama, and have a fantastic weekend!