I Guess I Can Call It My Mutt Pizza

I know someone who goes to London, frequently.  He is aghast at what they call pizza over there.  His description was Jarred Spaghetti Sauce with Cheddar Cheese.

No, Really.  It sounds like an abomination.

Mind you if you try to serve me Pineapple Pizza, you will wear it.  I am flexible but it needs to taste right.  Pineapple belongs in an upside down cake.  Period.  Or perhaps on a different dessert.  Keep that dreck to yourself.

When I moved here to Florida, I was struck by how mediocre the pizza was.  Think sauce from a can and flavorless cheese.

I set on a path that allowed me to develop a recipe that my Italian Mother would be proud of.  It tastes like a 1970s Pizza Shop sauce.  The kind of place you walk in and see a giant vat of the stuff reducing on a slow flame on the stove.

Remember to add the spices when you take it off the heat.  You want the punch of oregano to shine through.

Today I came home from a marathon on the bike.  That seems to be my normal workout at this point.  Today was 28.02 miles - I was close and made sure to round out the distance.  After two hours, and getting hit by some light rain, and I wanted the pizza.

This thing's crust is not so very good.  It is a large tortilla.  Sure, it saves me about 300 calories but it is kind of soulless and I describe it as an "Italian Quesadilla".  Nothing against Mexican cuisine, I love and respect that and this mashup is strange.

I was in a rush so it has its place.

I did want to use up some of the oddball ingredients I had on hand.  The Mozzarella I had ready was only about half of what I needed so I got "creative".  Adding in the main flavor of the Parmesan would help this effort greatly. 

Still I was short.  I remembered the discussions of the British Pizza.  If we want to laugh, we look at each other and say "Cheddar Pizza" and cringe. 

At this point I realized either thaw out some more Mozzarella or get the Cheddar.  It's a good Cheddar, I equivocated, but it is still a cheddar.  It also was on the "old side" and I had cut out all the "spots".  It needed to be used up.

Ok, admittedly, all the ingredients were weird, let's make a pizza out of these bastard ingredients.  I cook to get a flavor profile as well as a balanced amount of protein with a specific calorie count.  That meant that in order to make the pizza 1000 calories, I needed 5 ounces of cheese total.  I ended up putting a mix together of 1 ounce of rather good sharp Parmesan, 2.5 ounces each of Mozzarella and Extra Sharp Cheddar.

Assembling the pie or quesadilla, I poured a glass of Chardonnay.  Taking a sniff of that glass, I realized it was for cooking.  We made Beef Stroganoff and it put the "Ordinaire" in the term "Vin Ordinaire".  Not great stuff.

Somehow the combination of that wine and the strange pizza worked well together.

I guess the moral of the story is not to be so rigid.  If you have to use Cheddar, it isn't the end of the world, just make sure that you have a strong sauce, and that the Cheddar is Extra Sharp.  Having it be the minority cheese in a mix won't ruin a pizza, it will pass if you are caught up short.

And a glass of Ordinary Wine never hurt anyone.

I don't advertise my lip reading business. It's all word of mouth.

Be safe out there.  I'm going to blow off some steam and go carve some large circles around a gasbag.  





 Two lumberjacks, Bill and Frank, are out in the forest cutting down trees.

Not paying attention, Frank gets too close to the saw and gets his arm cut off. In a mad scramble, Bill wraps Frank’s arm in plastic, and rushes his dismembered friend to the hospital.

He goes to visit Frank the next day, and to his amazement finds him back in tact, playing ping pong in the physical therapy area.

A few days later the men are back in the woods, cutting down trees. This time, Frank loses his leg after again getting too close to the saw. Just like the last time, Bill wraps his friend’s leg in plastic and rushes him back to the hospital.

He goes to visit Frank the next day, and this time to his amazement finds Frank in the physical therapy area, all in one piece, running on the treadmill.

A few days later, the pair are back in the woods, sawing down trees. This time, Frank gets too close to the saw and gets decapitated. Bill, now an old pro at this, wraps his friend’s head in plastic and rushes him to the hospital.

He goes to visit Frank at the hospital the next day, only to find out that his friend didn’t make it. Distraught, he asked the doctor what happened.

“Well,” the doctor said, “your friend would have made a full recovery, if some idiot hadn’t wrapped his head in a plastic bag.”

Cassette tapes had an A side and a B side, so it makes sense that their successor would be the CD.

I have to say that while I am not terribly fond of this kind of story, the punch line made me laugh loud enough to make the dog look up at me wondering why I lost my mind.





An Englishman, Scotsman and Irishman are all working on a construction site, building a new skyscraper in London. It's lunchtime and they're all sat atop the building. the Englishman opens up his lunchbox to see what his wife has packed him.

"Ugh... Ham and cheese sandwich... again. I'm sick of ham and cheese sandwiches, it's the same every bloody day. If I get another ham and cheese sandwich in my lunch box tomorrow I'm jumping off the top of this building."

Next, the Scotsman opens up his lunch box.

"Aackk, jam sandwich... again. I cannee go on like this eating jam sandwiches every day of me life! If I get the same again tomorrow I'm jumping as well."

Next it's the Irishman's turn.

"Ohh for fecks sake! Not another egg and cress sandwich! That's the fourth one in a row this week! I'm with you boys, one more egg and cress sandwich and I'm jumping!"

So next day they sit at the top of the building to have lunch. One by one they open up their lunch boxes... The Englishman finds another ham and cheese sandwich, so off he jumps, and splats into the ground below. The Scotsman finds another jam sandwich... Off he goes...Splat. The Irishman, egg and cress sandwich... Splat.

A week or so later later the three widows are talking at the memorial service. The English widow says, through tears, "I still can't believe it, had no idea George hated ham and cheese so much, if only I'd known..."

The Scottish widow says "Duncan did say he was getting a bit bored with Jam, but I didn't realise he hated it that much, I just wish he'd have let me know how he really felt."

The Irish widow says "I... I just don't understand... Paddy packed his own lunch."

Air Fryer Brownies? Here is the recipe!

 

Everything was new once.  I once microwaved a chicken.  It actually came out well done but I can't say I would do it again.

I once had a Curry Chicken recipe that I really would love to find for that same microwave again but this was a time long past and a lost recipe.

Every new cooking fad has a peak.  The Air Fryer is having its moment right now and I find it to be amazing.

Worse comes to worse, this will bake well in the conventional oven, same time and temp.

Anything frozen, chicken parts both thawed and frozen, pork parts, fish sticks and fillets.  All have come out wonderful and wholesome.

This is an online recipe that I shamelessly stole.  The "pan" is my silicone liner that I oiled and poured the batter into.

Note:  I measured everything with a gram scale.  I have one and it works well, however typically volumes are used.  Maybe next time, huh?

I followed the recipe below faithfully and got some wonderful treats.  It fell together in about 10 minutes.  Cooked in 15.

Whenever you cook in an air fryer, I find that I have to check frequently and make sure the internal temp comes up to the correct level for meats.  I used a toothpick for the brownies and we have enjoyed them.

They. Were. Excellent!

Ingredients:

• 1/3 cup (42 grams) whole wheat flour or all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup (29 grams) Dutch-process cocoa powder (sifted if needed)
• 1/16 teaspoon salt (nobody has one of those, I eyeballed "half" of a 1/8 tsp)
• 1/4 cup plus 2 teaspoons (65 grams) coconut oil or unsalted butter (melted and slightly cooled)
• 1/2 cup (100 grams) granulated sugar or coconut sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 large egg (about 50 grams, out of shell)
• 1/4 cup (43 grams) chocolate chips, plus extra mini chips for the top

How to make them:

1. Prep your pan: Line a small cake pan or air fryer-safe dish with parchment paper.
2. Mix the dry ingredients: In a bowl, combine the flour, cocoa powder, and salt. Set aside.
3. Mix the wet ingredients: In a separate bowl, stir together the melted coconut oil or butter with the sugar and vanilla.
4. Once blended, mix in the egg until just combined.
5. Combine everything: Add the dry mix to the wet bowl a little at a time. Stir gently until almost no flour is visible. Fold in the chocolate chips.
6. Preheat the air fryer: Set it to 340°F (170°C).
7. Pour and top: Transfer the batter into your prepared pan. Sprinkle mini chocolate chips on top for extra gooeyness.
8. Air fry Cook in the air fryer for 14 to 20 minutes. The top should look set with a thin crust.
9. A toothpick in the center will come out a bit wet. The edges should have soft crumbs.
10. Cool before serving: Let them cool completely in the pan. They’ll continue to firm up as they sit.

If you give these a try, let us know how they turn out. They're dangerously easy to make.

In order to have a murder of Crows, there must be probable Caws.

 Oh!  Yeah!  Blog!  Just getting ready to go to the park and bike a marathon.  I realized that I need to stop playing with sprinkler heads and listening to the news on CBC/BBC and get to it!

When I get there, I'll say CAW! to the crows, Roar! at the iguanas, and try to avoid the ducks that are damnably everywhere.

On Yer Left!

Meanwhile, I have been seeing this discussion on social media way too often and I see it this way.





A guy was talking to his neighbor over the fence. “I mowed the lawn the other day, and after doing so I sat down and had a cold beer. The day was really quite beautiful, and the drink facilitated some deep thinking.

My wife walked by and asked me what I was doing, and I said, "Nothing."

The reason I said "nothing" instead of saying "just thinking" is because she then would have asked, "About what?"

At that moment, I would have needed to clarify that men ponder deeply on diverse subjects, sparking further inquiries.

Finally I pondered an age old question: Is giving birth more painful than getting kicked in the nuts?

Women always maintain that giving birth is way more painful than a guy getting kicked in the nuts, but how could they know?

Well, after another beer, and some more heavy deductive thinking, I have come up with an answer to that question.

Getting kicked in the nuts is more painful than having a baby, and even though I obviously couldn't really know, here is the reason for my conclusion:

A year or so after giving birth, a woman will often say, "It might be nice to have another child."

But you never hear a guy say, "You know, I think I would like another kick in the nuts."