My mom was in town visiting and we were in the supermarket. There was sale on my favorite frozen pizza (Newman's Own, in case you were wondering) and I slowed down to take a look.
"Are you going to buy frozen pizza?!!!"
"What happened? Don't you make pizza anymore?"
"Of course we do. But sometimes I like frozen pizza."
Full disclosure here, Alex won't touch the stuff. He thinks it's an abomination. I take a different view. Back when I lived in Boston I had pizza for breakfast almost every day. Some days it was a slice that I picked up from a pizzeria that opened at 10:00am on Comm. Ave as I walked to Clio from the South End, where Alex lived. But if I was coming from my apartment, I was probably eating a Celentano's frozen cheese pizza for one. I loved those pizzas with their sweet sauce, questionable cheese, and cardboard crust goodness. I could buy them a local superette less than a block from my apartment without having to trek to an actual supermarket. Since I was hardly ever home there was very little food in my apartment. I would throw one in the oven before I got into the shower and have a hot breakfast ready by the time I was dressed. It was perfect.
Frozen pizzas have come a long way since them. There a million different variations in the supermarket. I'm still partial to the ones with that thin, cardboard crust. Amaya and I will happily eat a frozen cheese pizza for lunch on occasion. It has the aura of forbidden food because we know Dad doesn't approve of them. Today we discovered that adding a layer of homemade meat sauce to the top of the pie is the perfect hack. It made that cheese pizza into something that could justify my intermittent addiction to anyone, except my husband.
February 15, 2005