Today we’re trashing it up. There’s nothing artisanal about this pizza. It doesn’t wear suspenders, a pageboy hat or do the whole fancy-talk about coffee. Think Lindsay Lohan passed out in the front seat kinda trashy. I’m pretty sure that’s where buffalo chicken pizza ranks on the scale of trash.
If you know me, you know that chicken wings of any form are my favorite food ever. I like Korean chicken wings, Japanese-style fried chicken, Thai chicken wings and of course, good ol’ American buffalo chicken wings.
This pizza exploits all those delicious flavors: hot sauce, chicken, ranch dressing and for good measure, some fresh Italian parsley and green onion.
In other pizza-making news, I haven’t made pizza for this blog for a very, VERY long time. It’s mainly taken me so long because I broke my pizza stone during a move and hadn’t replaced it…until…Baking Steel got in touch with me and sent me one.
This pizza is delicious. Like, really delicious. I think you should make it. And then I think you should take the next logical step and eat it…just don’t go eating it and then go shopping for a bathing suit, ’cause that’s just an awful idea.
I know it’s an awful idea because that’s just what I did. From said horrific shopping experience, I have a few ideas on how to make buying “outside underwear” a little more tolerable.
Rule 1: Don’t go to a place that rhymes with Schmorever 21 and expect bathing suits to fit well. They’re $7 for a reason.
Rule 2: Get “dressed” to go shopping. By “dressed” I mean put on some makeup, brush your hair. Look, you’re gonna be super annoying and overly self-critical, so at least look your very best. It helps.
Rule 3: American Apparel swimsuits are all a lil’ slutty looking. I think that’s the point. Sadface.
Rule 4: Like seriously, don’t go trying on swimsuits after a big meal. It’s just a sucky idea. Even if you don’t look full, you feel full. Just ugh.
Rule 5: Basically, don’t go to stores to try on swimsuits. Period. Buy them on a credit card and try them on at home and returns the ones that don’t work. Lesson learned.
For some reason, though stores have been selling clothes for, like, hundreds of years, most of them still haven’t figured out flattering dressing room lighting. WHY? It really can’t be THAT difficult. I mean, they put people on the moon…and have, like, multiple times.
Nope. It totally should be a picture of a pizza…topped with layers of ricotta, melted mozzarella, cubes of roasted butternut squash and broccoli rabe. That was the plan.
This pizza was supposed to convince me that broccoli rabe isn’t this gross, bitter leaf situation…well that failed. I tried. I did. I blanched it, I sauteed it with garlic, seasoned it…even paired it with something like the butternut squash to offset its disgustingness. Didn’t work. It’s just gross. It just is.
I was gonna post it anyway, thinking some of you lunatics actually might like it…but I dunno…looking at the pictures of the pizza bummed me out, so I decided to turn the leftover ingredients (from the pizza) into something more awesome!!
Sometimes I do things I’m not so proud of. This is true.
Like…putting ice cubes in white wine. I’m impatient. I dunno…in the privacy in my own house I like “mom” wine. Gross.
I sometimes buy three bags of groceries and then decide I don’t want to cook and go out to eat instead. Total brat.
I’m also known to back out of Saturday night plans…because sometimes sitting on the couch internet stalking–for some reason–sounds like WAY more fun. Lame. Totally lame.
I’m really bad at returning library books. I found two under my bed. I’m guessing I now owe LA County Library like thousands of dollars for two $10 books from the 70s. I’m also pretty convinced that those fees are going to end up at the DMV. LA doesn’t play.
Sometimes though…sometimes I do really good things.
Like look at my friends dead in their eyes and tell them that I love them. This makes them super awkward and squirm in their seat. And then they usually just tell me to shut up.
I really dig telling strangers “bless you” when they sneeze. They’re always pleasantly surprised.
Whenever a boy, who I don’t know, opens the door for me, I look at them in their face and smile extra hard. And not in a I-like-you-let-me-make-you-eggs-and-bacon kind of way, but in a thank-you-for-being-a-damn-gentlemen way…now let’s get married!! JK.
No, no. I just like saying thank you the proper way, that’s all.
If I’m feeling particularly rich, I’ll put $2 (instead of $1) in my barista’s tip jar. They totally deserve more. Maybe more money and a hug? I’m a handful without coffee.
I can also turn a sandwich into a pizza. I think this qualifies as one of the good things I did recently.
Summer’s totally in full effect. I haven’t watched TV in days, my nails are bright pink, I can’t leave the house without sunglasses, and all I want to do is sit outside while drinking pink wine and eating pizza.
And iced coffee. I’m eating that like crazy, too.
I’ve been playing with a lot of pizza topping combinations and I’m really digging the whole sweet fruit thing with cheese and some sort of salty meat. It’s a winner of a combo; made only better with a drizzle of this balsamic/honey reduction thing I made. Sounds fancy (meh)…nah! Totally easy.
I was going to use blackberries instead of the figs, but when I saw them perched, looking all cute in their pretty little basket, blackberries didn’t have a chance. Continue Reading
Do you know about this? If not, let me break it down: you order a pizza (via the internets) and then watch it go from “prep” to “bake” to “out the door for delivery.” First time I saw it in action my mind was blown.
I really had no idea how this could even be real. I embraced it…thinking, you know, we’re totally in the future. This is the future. But I still couldn’t figure out how this was logistically possible. Is there low-jack technology involved? Does my pizza now have a micro-chip in it? Am I going to EAT this micro-chip? What will it taste like…? Well guess what…none. Of. It. Matters.
A friend of mine–who was equally obsessed as myself–did some serious research and found out that the entire thing is fake. Well, it’s not fake…it’s just based off of statistics in your area. Bummer-town, USA, eh? Yeah, me too.
What does this have to do with this Fancy Hawaiian Pizza? Nothing really…except I usually order a Hawaiian Pizza from Domino’s. Tomato sauce, canned pineapple, Canadian ham and cheese. Holy yum.
I thought it’d be a fun time to make a fancy version. Umm…hi!!! This was delicious!
Fresh pineapple & mozzarella, caramelized onions, prosciutto, arugula…and I broke out a new-to me, fancy pizza dough recipe by Peter Reinhart.
Cutting my own bangs. It’s true. I tried it a few days ago because I was too lazy to drive 5 minutes to my hairdresser for a trim….aaaand now I’m grateful bobbi pins were invented. Not good at cutting bangs/fringe. Check.
I’m not good at moving furniture, lifting heavy boxes, using a drill, etc. Last week I tried to hang curtains and broke out in a sweat which lead to lots of cursing. I’m convinced that this is why boys were invented.
Lastly (because I’m just about perfect at everything else), grilling stuff. There are so many variables with a charcoal grill. Where is the hottest part of the grill? When are the coals hot enough? Why is there so much stupid smoke? Dangit, there isn’t a thermometer on the cover…blah blah blah. So basically what I’m saying is that this Grilled Breakfast Pizza stressed me out. But I did it. And it was totally worth it. And since I lived to tell about it, I can tell you exactly what you’re not supposed to do and everything you should do so you end up with an amazing pizza. Ready? Annnnd let’s begin….