when the moon hits your eye

Tomorrow marks the one-week anniversary of our pizza stone, so I thought some commemoration was called for.  All week I’ve been rather shamelessly bragging to my friends of the culinary delights emanating from my small kitchen.  As they say, though, the proof is in the pudding, or in our case, the pie.  ta da:

The greatest strengths of the pizza are two-fold.  One, an excellent Italian dough recipe.  Two, home-grown basil and tomatoes:

Thanks are also due for pollination to our friendly neighborhood bee:

Also to the dough-rolling and rosemary-chopping skills of my co-chef, seen below enjoying a rosemary, roasted garlic and onion pie. (note for sticklers: the mushrooms were on his half)

I’m unfailingly delighted when something that requires a little technical expertise works out properly for me, like growing tomatoes or making dough that actually rises.  So, as you can imagine, pizza-making is a series of rewarding moments all piled on one slightly-crispy, slightly-crunchy crust.  Ah, the good life.  That’s amore.