Quite uncharacteristically, I set aside my to-do list a little after the noon hour and walked downtown to my favorite Italian restaurant.. because it was sunny and gorgeous and I knew my list wouldn’t be done until it wasn’t sunny and gorgeous anymore.
Sitting outside in hot but refreshing sun, the kind that makes you smile and wave to strangers and think their dogs/babies/shoes are cute, I drank in the afternoon with the perfect beef carpaccio and some olives. The dog observed passers-by, and I ran my toes through her fur with my bare feet and sipped Sekt.
And it occurred to me, I feel like pizza tonight. I have homemade sauce in my fridge, fresh mozzarella, eggplant but alas.. my dough maker is not here right now. So I ask my waitress, who’s name I surely knew at one point but we know each other so well it doesn’t make a difference anymore- if I can take two balls of dough home.
“Dough?” Yes dough. Raw dough. “Oh you want pizza?” No. Just the dough. “So just dough.” Just dough. “Nothing else.” No. “Ok I ask.”
Ten minutes later.
“Ok owner says you can have dough.” Ten minutes after that I am greeted by Phillipo, the owner’s son. I have known the owner of this place for almost three years now, and despite his steadfast greeting of CIAO BELLA!I had quite frankly always assumed he was gay. But Phillipo is definitely related in his own “ciao bella” way, and he hands me a styrofoam container with two balls of dough in it. Well then.
On the walk back to my house they are power-washing the fountains in the castle gardens, and it’s warm, and it’s lovely.
And after a walk home and more of my list is done, I light the grill and pour a glass of wine. Grill-lighting is more fun with sun and wine, I have no idea why. I’ve grilled at -20 degrees, novel but not the same as in the Spring. Spring wins.
Dough on pizza paddle.
Sauce on dough.
Chopped fresh mozzarella on dough.
Sauteed eggplant on dough.
Dough on grill.
Dough turned into pizza.
Forgot basil and/or arugula in desire to eat pizza.
Shit. Oh well 🙂
Peel & Cleaver 
mmm…power washing
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Holy Moly! You should write a book. That was a great entry. What love, not for sex, but for food!! Your pizza sounds great as all (well maybe not all) your creations. I wonder if Jason is having the same wonderful sensations on his meals he is getting!!
Vegas Mun
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Ah sweetheart, you always could make something as simple as a walk and pizza into an adventure. There is such joy and awareness in your writing – a Zen thing.
Carpe diem..
Da Wizard
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Forgot – love the photos accompanying the narrative. You should print these out and put them in a binder – just in case the sunspots wipe out iCloud…
Da Wozard
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I love the smell of power-washing in the afternoon. You know, one time we power-washed for 12 hours. When it was all over, I walked up. We didn't find one speck of dirt, not one stinkin' speck. The smell, you know that earthy smell, the whole fountain.
Smelled like.. victory.
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Hehe thanks Mum and Wizard 😉
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let me say that I am not eating nearly as well here.
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Noooo…I miss me some Quadrato! I agree with Vegas Mum concerning your writing skills. Who knew an Easy Riddle education could produce such an eloquent writer?? 😉 I am sure Jason is having just as much fun eating food in the Dirty South right now…
– The Navy Guy
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