you know what's even F*ing better than deep dish pizza?
TWO deep dish pizzas.
i did it, again.
i had the dough, i had the drive, and god only knows how,
but i have the shark-gluttonous tendency to terrorize waaaaay too much food.
rules IS rules after all.
for the second day in a row,
i fired up the oven, and force-fed my face a tall order of new hottness.
i'm glad i did it, too.
i didn't have the same pizza again.
i'm not a total A*-hole, neighbors.
this time around, i opted for the burly, stick-to-your-riblets heaviness,
and it paid off hugely in dividends of robustness for my whole dang body.
check the deepest-dopeness-type teleport:
the crust was even flippin' better with another 'nother long day of cold proofing.
that's the stuff!!!
cakier, flakier, fluffier, and way more expert.
i used the custom underchee' on the bottom,
followed by caramelized onions-
two of 'em , because the ones i had were so small.
on the ones, if you can't hang out with onions,
i'll never shed a tear over you.
that's a new decree.
then there's a whole mess of daiya mozzarella,
and thick slices of oven-roasted oil & black-peppery potato,
and broth-braised broccoli florets.
i keep a little spent seitan broth on hand for just such occasions.
and then MORE chee',
and crushed tomatoes, and a dusty blast of nootch boostin' nutrients,
and vegan sausages,
with upgraded spicy ho'sauce and smoke and cayenne and black pepper-
because too much is the right amount.
and that's the truth, forever.
......and just to turn it up,
i hit it with three full cloves'-worth of fried garlic sprankles.
there's pizza time, and then there's pizza time.
i prefer the monumental moments over the cheap slices of sh!t.
also, a day off yielded a MUCH sexxxier shot of this 'za.
timing is everything, and daylight isn't gonna wait for me.
pizza is good for you.
pizza is GREAT for me.
making food, and eating more of it than i think i can fit,
is basically what i DO.
there's other stuff, for sure,
and all of it keeps spilling out from a font of spirit and memory
that makes my whole head hurt as it erupts in great spouting gouts of
words, and pictures, and art, and action.
the pizza almost seems like small potatoes, comparatively.
and not for nothin', but the potato element in that deep dish?
level eleven omega-hott boomfire for my face.
i need a change.
i need a break.
the thing of it is-
there's still so much work left to be done,
that my needs will have to wait for a while.
let's hope that the anti-venom that is good food can counteract the
toxic levels of repetitive stress that threaten to echo forever from
the first to the last of each and every day.
that's not exactly uplifting, is it?
but true stories are what i've got.
no matter the viciousness of a low-viscosity cycle,
a tar pit of forward motion,
or a sinkhole of quicksandy hourglass curves,
there's always room for another little bit of that deep dish.
you find your bright spots where you can, man;
never quiet, never soft.....