Pizza Night

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“Ponder well on this point: the pleasant hours of our life are all connected by a more or less tangible link, with some memory of the table.” ~Charles Pierre Monselet

Friday night is pizza night at our house. This weekly ritual was not planned, it simply evolved. When my children were young and the days long and hectic, I looked forward to Friday night because it was the beginning of a few days together without the bustle of school, work and scheduled activities. The evening meal was always something simple like tacos or hamburgers or, on rare occasions, a takeout pizza.

One of my earliest and fondest childhood memories was going to my grandmother’s house on Wednesday for dinner. My mother, who did not drive at that time, would walk to my elementary school and from there she and I would walk to my grandmother’s house. Upon our arrival we would be greeted by the smell of bread baking in the oven, fresh made pasta drying on a towel laid over the back of a chair, and a homemade pizza sitting on the counter as a pre-dinner “snack”.

Grandma’s pizza would not be recognizable by most Americans. It was thick, but light and the toppings were usually limited to tomatoes, cheese (not mozzarella), and the occasional anchovy--which I always removed. More like focaccia than store bought pizza, grandma’s creation was good hot, cold or day old for breakfast. It was the standard by which I have measured every other pizza. After my grandmother died my Aunt Ida replicated my grandmother’s recipe, which was not written down anywhere, and continued the tradition.

After years of ordering pizzas and trying the various products offered in stores, I decided to try my own hand at making pizza. Initially I purchased frozen bread dough and applied my own toppings. My children often helped, so even if the dough was less than satisfactory we were pleased with the results. As time passed, our expectations grew. Several years ago I purchased a food processor that could blend dough. I experimented with many different recipes and finally found one that comes close to my memory of my grandmother’s pizza.

Every Friday at noon I make fresh dough and let it rise all day. The toppings each week vary depending on what is in the refrigerator, pantry, and freezer. My son B makes a wonderful pizza consisting of canned tomatoes, bacon, caramelized onions, and oregano. I favor a pizza with fresh tomatoes, basil leaves, a variety of fresh vegetables and a thick topping of mozzarella cheese, My husband likes a traditional pizza with tomato sauce, meat and cheese. If I suggest that I make something other than pizza on a Friday night, I am met with complaints. Friday evenings have become a time of family, relaxation, tradition, and memories. Some of the best things in life can’t be purchased. They are created.

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