Distractions
As I was sitting down getting ready to work on this blog post, my wife, Jan, came into the office and started talking to me. With the greatest of effort, I managed to say something like "Pizza". A simple one word answer to the question, thus fulfilling my obligation to respond to her question without totally having to stop what I'm doing and engage in a full blown conversation. It's not that I didn't want to talk to her, but my man brain can only do one thing at a time- especially when I'm on the computer. When I go to Hoonah Trading, up to the office where she works, she has the ability to count money or post invoices or look for a billing address at the same time as she's talking to me. I don't know if all women can do that, but she can. She can talk to me while she reads with the TV on. When I'm watching something on TV, I don't want to answer questions about what's going on or who did what or why so and so killed Joe Blow. It drives me nuts. My daughter Jen does the same thing and it's terribly distracting. Sometimes her and Jan will start carrying on a conversation while the TV is on, which in itself is irritating, but then something happens and they want me to fill them in, which of course I can't do any too well, because I was unable to hear above the din in the living room.
This past week Jan had to go to Juneau and I was left to fend for myself. Not a big deal normally, but lately I've been working extra hours to finish a project, so she bought me a Di Giorno Pizza to fix for supper. I've made frozen pizza's before, just follow the directions and its a piece of cake. I heated the oven to 400 degrees and set the timer for 28 minutes so that the crust would be softer. I don't like a hard, cruchy crust. I took the plastic cover off and put it on a special pizza plate that a friend had given us. The pizza turns out so great when we use it normally. I popped it in the oven and went to do something while I waited. After the timer went off, I pulled it out and let it cool for a few minutes before I cut it. The cutter went through pretty well, but when I put the server under the pizza to get a slice, it wouldn't come loose. What the... So I cut it again, thinking maybe we needed a new pizza cutter. We don't eat so much pizza that we would need a new cutter every six months, but who knows, maybe it was made in China like everything else. When I still couldn't get a slice to break loose I started getting a little angry. I contemplated picking the whole thing up and eating it like a sandwhich. I was starting to think maybe the pizza was made in China too. After the third attempt at slicing it, I discovered that I had forgotten to remove the cardboard from the bottom of the pizza and had cooked the whole thing together. Maybe I was made in China. In any event, the part of the crust that actually baked was stuck to the cardboard. Through a great deal of travail, I was finally able to separate most of it from the packaging, though as you can see from what was left, it doesn't really resemble pizza too much. At one point I had thought of rolling it up into a ball and throwing it back in the oven, but I was hungry and I wasn't sure what the end product would taste like. As it was, it was pretty doughy, but the pepperoni was cooked and the cheese was pretty well melted. It's a testimony to the Di Giorno folks that you can cook the cardboard with the pizza and still have a fairly tasty product, however, unless you want to discover new and possibly unpleasant frontiers, take the plastic off before you bake it.
only you dad :) should have stuck to the Corn Flakes. Love ya
ReplyDeleteSorry about your pizza dad, but that's funny!
ReplyDeleteDamn Chinese Di Giorno pizzas...maybe it was only the cardboard that was made in China....indestructive...probably edible too!
ReplyDeleteI think I was still feeling the effects of the Clown Flakes I had eaten last week.
ReplyDeleteugh..funny stuff...David came to work and told me about this post because I hadn't had a chance to see it yet..he was crackin up laughin...woooow...how..HOW...father...do you leave the cardboard on a pizza?
ReplyDelete