Also, remember all that jazz I was making over how I loved cooking with the Parents, how we were spending "quality time" together and it was all just peachy? Good. Because now I am going to contradict all those things I said.
Cooking by myself is so much more enjoyable. I really appreciate the Parents for you know, bringing me into this world and all that. But honestly, I don't like it when they keep telling me what to do. I called it "helpful advice" before, but really that was just a euphemism for nagging.
Why don't you just wash all the mushrooms now, at once? Well what if I don't want to use all the mushrooms in this batch? Will God smite us from the heavens if I just, you know, put the rest of the mushrooms back in the fridge? Is my vegetable cutting technique really bothering you that much? Because you look like you're about to have an aneurism over these onions that look just fine to me. Urgh, just let me make my custom, "inefficient," one-at-a-time pizzas in peace!
This is Tabatha, pre-baked.
The way I see it, when I'm cooking, the kitchen is my kitchen. No one should be telling me how to do what I do, no matter how much more experience you have. Do you see me telling you how to run your electrophoresis in the lab? Do you hear me harping about how your kid is guaranteed to become a hobo if he doesn't go to school A and take classes B C and D? No. Because all of that is rude and such thoughts should stay in my own head. All you need to do is get your butt to the table the moment dinner is ready, and occasionally remind me where to find certain ingredients.
^ Damn. Minus 10+ years of cooking experience to be had, I definitely think I got the swag to be on some form of Hell's Kitchen. I would be all up in that reality show drama breathing fire at anyone who so much as looks at me the wrong way in my kitchen. I'd be an instant crowd pleaser: cute, child-looking asian girl with temper of a psychotic pregnant bear on cocaine. Yep, that's me.
Anyway, onto my pizza. Home made pizza is my newest obsession. But remember that one time where I said that if I could cook without reading a recipe that I would be like, the next Alice Waters or something? (that time being yesterday)
This is my first pizza, named Jack. I figured a generic meat pizza should be named Jack.
Baked Jack (ha ha)
Well, I didn't read the recipe this time, but I don't think pizza making counts. Especially when all your ingredients are already pretty much pre-cut and pre-cooked for you and all you do is assemble the goods and babysit the oven to make sure nothing burns. The most manuel thing I had to do was grill the onions (yum yum yum. Was generous with the salt, too).
I'm glad to see though that I keep setting up all these milestones for myself. So like, there isn't any direction but upwards basically. Once I pass one thresh hold, I immediately set new ones. So in reality I guess I'll never really be an "official" chef. There's always something new to be learned or improved upon. Looks like my parents did raise some good, standard Asian in me.
So yeah, regardless, I was still REALLY happy with my pizza today. It might be one of my favorite-est things I've made so far.
Ingredients I used (but so much room for experimentation! I'm lookin' at chu, blackberries)
-spring mix greens
-pesto / pizza sauce (store bought)
-sausage for the fam
-goat cheese / feta cheese
Willingness to make again: 10 x 10 x 10!!!
1. Pesto from Trader Joes was really strong, so try to use less of it? Or maybe make it myself one of these days when I'm feeling *extra* Berklian
2. We used this random tortilla stuff my mom got awhile ago. It was pretty thin, still good though! I love my thin pizzas, but can definitely buy actual pizza-crust for next time
3. Goat cheese on pizza is the BOMB.
4. 450 is a good temperature for the oven
Also, I realized from these posts that I may have an ego problem. I mean, remember the time I talked about creating edible pieces of, oh, I don't know, JESUS CHRIST? (how do I think of these things) So, to maintain my likability as just your average-joe, I'll share an embarrassing story with an embarrassing photo (who doesn't like a girl who can laugh at herself?). Today, I asked the Mom if I could use these to bake my pizzas:
To which the Mom replied: That would catch on fire. Followed by this face: -____-
Well, now the secret is out. I am just an average,