BBQ Anyone?

I suppose that I'll do one more post for the month of April.  That, and I'm stalling because I don't want to revise my research proposal.  Believe it or not, I think that with this post, I am finally making good on my promise of posting one food post for each day of December.  If I'm wrong, don't tell me.  I really don't care.  That said, I think that every so often I'll do another food bit...just for fun.  That is, if I can remember to take a picture of it.

For Sam's birthday, he wanted pizza.  Can't imagine where he ever got that idea.  So we made homemade crusts.  (I'm not posting that recipe, but whatever your favorite crust recipe is, it'll do.  You could even use one of those disgusting pre-made ones if that gets you salivating.)

1. Load the toppings as outlined:  Sauce--1 part pizza sauce to 2 parts BBQ-again of your choice (I used Sweet Baby Ray's Hickory Smoke and Brown Sugar this time); shredded chicken (I like to season with black pepper); diced red onion; sliced black olives (not pictured, as we were out); tons of bacon bits; shredded smoked Gouda cheese (sometimes I mix in some mozzarella and cheddar).  I only top half of it with crazy delicious mushrooms because Amy won't eat them.  Add any other garnishes as you see fit: Parmesan cheese, red pepper flakes, etc.

2. Follow the crust baking instructions.  This recipe was for 20 minutes at 400 degrees.

3. Savor.

4. Wish you had made another.

Tradition!

No, Tevya, this is not Kosher eating today, so sorry.  Every Christmas Eve (yes, this is the retroactive 24th post) we have a tradition of going to a matinee and gorging ourselves at the Brick Oven.  So today's food that makes me happy comes to you from the Brick Oven.  Back when I was working my way through college, I was the Brick Oven.  For two and a half years I slaved in the back of the house, but I still never tire of this American-Italian cuisine.  Today's fare included a sample platter: all-you-can-eat pizza, soup, and salad.

Om nom nom nom nom nom nom!

Game Time!

So, to ring in the bowl season, we packed up the whole famn damily and headed to my parents' house to watch BYU destroy SDSU and make homemade peanut butter cups. (Thanks, Amy, Mom, and girls.)  Of course, the menu needed to include classic sports food: pizza and wings.  I'm not a wing snob, or a pizza snob, but I do enjoy the good stuff when I can get it.  And, yes, I do know the difference.  This particular fare rated fair on my scale.  Those that know me well, know that even though I love all foods, I could live off pizza for every meal eight days each week (as long as there's variety), i.e., trip to Philadelphia where all I ate for three days included pizza, stromboli (pizza's cousin), and cheese steaks.  But back to this pizza here and now.  It served its purpose and vanquished my hunger both last night and this morning.  The wings were Dad's responsibility, and I have no idea where he got them, although I believe they were pre-seasoned for our postseason match.  (Pun very much intended.)  He got honey barbecue and chile lime.  Not bad.  The burn is still smoldering somewhere in the recesses of my intestines.