So, I got a fantastic pizza oven for Christmas.
I had seen and experienced treats from my friend Jodi's pizza oven when I was in California this past summer, and loved and coveted hers, so on my Amazon wish list it went. Due to rehearsals, schedules and general holiday craziness, I haven't had a chance to use it until yesterday.
Point one: You should never try out a new appliance when you're in a hurry.
Point two: Googling "how to use a pizza peel" might not be enough to actually make one successful at it.
I decided to make several different types of pizza: grilled chicken and artichoke, pepperoni and mushroom, and green chili and bacon (That last is the green-striped piggy; if you haven't had it - try it). I did all the prep work, chopping and sauteing, and then went to put my first pizza in the oven.
Google said that to use a pizza peel, it works best if you use a LOT of cornmeal (I think the actual measurement was a crapton) or semolina so it slides off the peel and onto the pizza stone. Because I didn't happen to have semolina in my secret pocket, I used cornmeal. And you know what? It totally works. That first pizza came out like a freaking work of art. Michelangelo's David had nothing on my Green-Striped Piggy. But Google didn't tell you what happens with all of the excess cornmeal when you put the second pizza in.
What happens, Google, is that your pizza oven catches on fire, FYI. Just in case there's another person who has the same issue.
So I called in the teenager to help put out the fire and fan the smoke alarm so my ears would quit bleeding from the noise, and I began cutting the first pizza into slices. I couldn't find the pizza cutter, so, frazzled, I decided to use my super sharp new Cutco knives to do the job. and it worked beautifully. The serrated knife went through the pizza like butter. Unfortunately, I should have listened to the age old advice to use the right tool for the job, because that serrated knife also did a gorgeous job slicing though my finger. Point Three.
I didn't even notice for the first second, but then an enormous amount of blood started pouring from my person, prompting my son to say, "Uh, Mom? I think you're bleeding on the pizza."
Not, "Are you alright?" or "Can I get you a Band-Aid?," but "You're bleeding on the pizza."
Such a sweet kid.
So I wrapped up my finger in a paper towel and tried to wipe most of the blood off of the second pizza, clear up the mess from the fire and put the third pizza in.
That's when Mr. Sensitive pointed out that I was bleeding again.
Through the wad of paper towel. And on to the pizza. Again.
I re-secured a new bandage, threw out part of the finger blood pizza, and put in pizza four.
All the while, one of the neighborhood kids was watching all of this while waiting for a slice of pizza. God knows what he went home and told his parents. Sorry Bobby and Laci. Just... sorry.
After the fourth pizza, I decided that was it. I'd had enough. I needed to leave for a dress rehearsal, there was blood, and fire, and sweat, and insensitive teenagers and maybe some tears and couldn't stand one more minute in my kitchen. I blithely told Ethan to "Clear up that blood, please," got myself a band-aid and left the house.
Ten minutes later, I get this text:
I didn't have the heart to tell him that smell was his dinner and that I might have bled on his pizza. I ignored it and went on to rehearse. Thankfully, without further blood and fire. (There was a little pain involved, though. I won't lie.) And there was no pizza left when I got home, for better or worse.
Anyhow, Jodi, I might need a lesson from you (or Laith) to successfully use the pizza oven.
Because right now, I'm gun shy.