by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett
Take my friend Jean for instance. Her husband is a chef. When they have pizza it's an ordeal. First of all, her hubby MAKES the pizza from scratch. But before he does that, he first gets out his big soup pot. Yup, pizza night for them means homemade chicken soup comes first.
When I was growing up, pizzas were few and far between. The only place around us that made pizza was a little hole in the wall called Chicken Delight. (And as you might guess, the pizza wasn't very good--but what did we know--we hadn't had much to compare with--except for that rubber monstrosity they made at school with was 90% uncooked dough, 8% bad sauce, and 2% rubber cheese.)
Mr. L says it makes him want to puke.
He, on the other hand, either has a beer or a glass of scotch (unless we're reheating it at lunchtime and then he drinks--ick--Gatorade).
What do YOU like with your pizza?