Pizza is life

There is an ultra-steep learning curve to making a wood fired pizza.

The first part of the problem is getting the oven up to a high enough temp. You must decide at what time you might like dinner (preferably prior to midnight), subtract about four hours from that, and light your woodfire no later. Dinner at 6? Start the fire at around 2.

The second part of the problem, is having the right type of dough. It has to be tough enough to hold up to a bit of handling, not to mention support the toppings-which, in a true Italian-style pizza will be placed with restraint.

The third bit, and this might be the most critical, you must have the personal agility to correctly place and move the dough into and around a 700-900 degree oven.

My husband, as handy as he is handsome, built a backyard pizza oven during the first summer of the pandemic. We were tired of mediocre pizza in the Midwest. We were, as was everyone else, ready for more human interaction. So, being social foodies, we decided to do something about it.

The build was a labor of love and a source of excitement. We watched a lot of YouTube videos prior to picking a design and schlepping a ton of bricks and concrete into our backyard. It came together brilliantly, after many hours of heavy lifting.

So, the oven built, we were pumped to have a real live get together (after months of isolation), with great food to boot.

We planned for the day, made the dough, and set up for the party, but somehow misunderstood the part about heating up the oven for several hours ahead of time. That would have been fine if the dough had been sturdier. And all of it would have probably not mattered as much if my husband, an aspiring pizzaiolo, knew how to handle a pizza in the oven. 

That first night wasn’t exactly a disaster, we did eat some blobby, misshapen pizzas around 10 pm, but it wasn’t the brilliant Italian-style bash we were all hoping for.

Since then, we have corrected our biggest problems. We realized the preheating period was critical. I found a perfect dough recipe.  And the hubbs found and purchased something known as a “speed peel” or the long-handled paddle-like instrument that helps move a pizza around the oven for even cooking.

Now, when we throw an outdoor party, we have confidence that each and every person will get a perfectly cooked, delightful pie. Our gracious friends will, with a sly jab or two, remind us of how they endured our learning curve.  Of how they politely downed half-baked ash-covered discs after polishing off the supply of appetizers.

And you know what? I love everything about it.

The fact that we tried something new, no matter how bad. The fact that we gained a skill. The fact that our friends show up for the good or the bad.

The pandemic put us all in a desperate lack of social interaction and levity. Maybe it was a little over the top to hand make an ancient cooking device in our backyard…but it provided a means of bringing friends together.  Because we needed a get together and a good laugh. And we all need it still. The connection, love, and humor feed us far more than even the best made pizza pie.

As I cue up a few batches of dough for another pizza party, I’m thankful to be on the other side of the brick oven learning curve. I have even greater appreciation for the life that I am living, particularly after the personal and global difficulties in the past few years. And, I recognize the beauty of the life not just in spite of but often because of the tough times.

And truly, most of us are living beautiful lives. We don’t always see it or feel it…until a level of contrast arises that wakes us up; until something difficult catches us off guard, we can’t focus on the wonderful beauty that was there all along.

I’ve been slow to learn this concept. But, lately, I’ve been overwhelmed with the incredible love, beauty, and true magic in my life. It took a whole lot of dark days to recognize the lightness that already existed for me. That I, at any time during the most difficult hours of the past few years, could have stopped and felt the gratitude for it all, good or bad.  

Which brings to mind a saying…even if you’re eating bad pizza, you’re still eating pizza.

Or…

Even when life is a slightly undercooked, misshapen pancake, toppings askew, it’s still life. In spite of major structural issues and a burnt crust, it exists in all of its hideous glory, dammit.