Thanksgiving Advent, Day Ten: Alternative Pizza Sauces
What? I never said all of the things I’m thankful for were going to be meaningful.
In this case, I am grateful for alternative pizza sauces. I am currently chowing down on a pizza crust that bears cheese, chicken, spinach, and pesto sauce. I could have had creamy garlic instead, and next time I may go for that. Mmmm, garlic.
Why am I thankful for this? Because when I lived in Bloomington, pizza was very nearly the only food you could get delivered.* And my friends and I gamed a lot, or watched movies, and the result was a whole lotta pizza ordering. Much to kniedzw‘s sadness (because he could eat pizza every night and be happy), after six years of this, I became so very tired of pizza that I almost never wanted to eat it. Three years on, I’m slowly regenerating my interest — but that’s helped a lot by restaurants that offer me greater variety in my choice of sauces. See, if it’s got a non-tomato-based sauce, it’s enough Not Like Pizza that I’m more willing to consider it. This, incidentally, makes not just me but my husband happier, and those are both good things.
*Except for Baked! And here I’m going to go on a tangent and talk about something I miss a great deal, and would be thankful for if somebody else would seize upon the WORLD’S BEST IDEA and make it available where I live.
Baked! was a restaurant that would, until about two or three in the morning, bake you custom-ordered cookies and deliver them to your door. Fresh. Hot. And you don’t even have to get off the couch. You could choose your dough (sugar, chocolate, oatmeal), your fillings (chocolate chips, raisins, nuts, etc), a frosting if you wanted it. I adored sugar dough with dark chocolate chips, craisins, and walnuts. You had to order at least a dozen cookies total, I think, and the minimum for any given flavor combination was three — but like that’s a hardship.
And yeah, the name was no accident; the business was basically run for stoners, by stoners, and sometimes forty-five minutes after you placed your order you’d get a phone call from a spacey-sounding driver who couldn’t find your house and turned out to be on the wrong side of town. But you know, that’s a small price to pay for fresh cookie delivery. Why this has not taken over the world, I don’t know.
