The Rule of Saturday

That would be mom's rule:  Pizza each and every Saturday night.  Mom wasn't the best cook in town.   When Saturday night rolled around brother and I sighed with relief knowing what was for dinner and not some god forsaking concoction of a meal.  Can't screw up pizza.

When it's bitching hot in Cowtown during the summer months it's best not to fire up the oven on a Saturday night.  Instead the pizza stone goes on the Weber and not in the kitchen oven.  Place a little nitty gritty corn meal on the stone which helps to slide the pizza off when it's done cooking, and you've got one hell of a meal.

My problem with making pizza is placing too many things on it.  Besides marinara sauce, Bell pepper.  Slices of white onion.  Sliced olives.  Pepperoni or thin slices of Italian ham.  Cheese.  Anchovies. Sliced tomatoes.  A sprinkling of oregono.  Good pizza.  Bad heartburn.

Trader Joes sells a killer pizza dough all ready to roll out.  Beats making it from scratch.  Saves time and the mess making from scratch creates.  I don't miss the mess of mixing my own pizza dough.  There's usually flour from hell to breakfast.

So mother, where ever you are, it's Pizza Night once again.  Need I mention that it is also Saturday?  I didn't think so.