Rescued Pizza

A fast fix for a supper meal is to pop a pizza into the oven for David.  The rest of us can wait for food, but he needs the food, especially on days when he has forgotten to eat his lunch.  He is sure he ate something, but he can’t remember what.  Bonnie is sure he didn’t eat anything, for there was no crumb, no core, no peelings, no evidence that anything had been touch.

But back to why a person would need to rescue pizza.  All that has to happen is to put the timer on for a little too long, and then wonder why there is smoke coming out of the oven.  At that point Bonnie choose an expletive I am not familiar with – well, I know it, it is just not one I choose to use.  Knowing that there would be no divine intervention, even if she was calling for some, I leaped in to skim the blistered cheese topping off of pizza, -- using a long knife and the bare tips of my fingers.  I then cut off the burned crusts and hoped for things to cool enough that David wouldn’t notice.  Sprinkling a little more shredded Parmesan on the pizza was easy, since it was still hot enough to melt it and had the damage I had done to the top of the product.  And the rescue, part II, involved slicing off the bottom crust, something Bonnie took on.  By now we just about had a new product … one that David would eat.  And we felt good about rescuing what initially looked to be a lost cause, a project  instead of doing Christmas baking.    

Arta