Warrior Woman pimped for me yesterday, bless her heart. She brought me a friend of hers who was very reluctant for a reading, but who came away from it very peaceful and glad she had decided to face her fears.
She brought another friend, who I had met previously, and while I did the reading in my office, the two others concocted food plans for the day. Her food buddy, Red, is a professional cook, and never cooks for Warrior Woman. Instead, she buys a load of food and schleps it over to WW’s apartment, and entrusts it to her excellent care.
Warrior Woman has a fetish for cookbooks, and by that I mean, get your mind out of the gutter, Knudsey. She collects them. She is a most excellent cook. I always look forward to her needing my techy help because she prefaces the request with an invite to dinner. Yum. It gives a whole new delicious meaning to “Will work for food.”
She hasn’t yet been able to replicate my most excellent homemade pizzas though, and it causes her pizza envy, Oh, be quiet, Knudsey.
So whenever she asks me if I have a hankering for my favourite red wine, I start a batch of pizza dough, because I know that’s what she wants for supper. She doesn’t ask directly for anything, rather she offers something first. It’s a funny little dance we do. The dance is funnier with the larger bottle of wine.
There is an art to making cheeseless pizza. (We both have issues). First, the crust must be thin. I use a rolling pin. And multigrain flour. I’m quirky that way. I also throw a few herbs into the dough.
The sauce is nothing special, just your everyday pasta sauce. I saute my onions and garlic before I put them on. I make sure I add herbs and spices to the mixture while it is frying. I use a mixture of ground pork and ground lean beef, suitably fried and spiced, and the thing that makes it so yummy is the sausage. Oh, the sausage. Sun-dried tomato sausage, fried and sliced up ahead of time. A few raw sliced mushrooms, and Bob’s your uncle.
It’s a lot of work to make pizza at casa witchypoo, but I cook a lot of the ingredients ahead of time and freeze them into pizza-sized portions.
It’s practically a tradition now. We only eat pizza when WW visits. If someone else came for pizza, it would feel like we were cheating on her. I guess you could say about me “Will cook for wine.”