Everybody Loves Pizza!
A picture of me at hour five and a half. My face tells it all... cooking dinner and cleaning up the war zone that is the kitchen afterwords, STINKS!
After a morning of frustrating meetings with the school principal where we tried to figure out our next move in this master chess game against the weather, I decided to help out a little around the house! I emailed Rimma and said dont worry about dinner tonight... I got it covered. I ambitiously decided to make homemade pizza.
I quickly learned that homemade food in the US is quite different from homemade food in Suzdal. For example, at home I would have hopped in the car and went down to Market Basket, where I would have bought already prepared pizza dough and all of the necessary ingredients. In Suzdal, I had to learn why tribal women recieved the title and worked ten hour days in the occupation of gatherer. It took three hours to assemble the necessary ingredients to pull of a simple pizza. First I needed to make the dough. We had yeast, oil, salt, and sugar in the house. My host mom tipped me off to a farm up the street where I found an old couple that make their own flour. I traded some cucumbers for a good size sack and then headed off to the next stop. In the garden behind our apartment, I made similar trades with the neighbors for red bell peppers, mushrooms, and an eggplant. I then went into our garden plot where I picked, right off the vine, ten fresh tomatoes and a handful of basil. Italian cheeses are hard to come by, so that took quite a few phone calls and long walks to markets. I finally found some mozzarella and parmesan. Back at the apartment I took a few minutes to regroup with a nice cup of Russian tea. I had everything I needed, including step by step dough directions from the mastermind blogger of the urban kitchen transforming www.generationyfoodie.com, Dara Reppucci herself!
Dough proved to be an easy task. Luckily I am a seasoned vet at simmering up a fresh tomato sauce thanks to mom's directions last week, so I thought that I was on the right track. Now it was time to turn a heap of dough into pizza pies. Sounds easy... unless you dont have a rolling pin. Thats right, I embarked on the hour-long forearm workout of the century. After both figuratively and literally wrestling with pizza dough on the floor, I had three sort of pizza like flatbreads. Like the Russian cousin of Emeril Lagasse, I juggled various fresh toppings while dancing around to the Whitney Houton's greatest hits tape in the 1982 tape deck on top of the fridge. The answer is yes, Whitney did wanna dance with somebody on the other side of the iron curtain. If twenty five years ago Whitney made her way to Suzdal, then it is safe to say that her debut album made more of a diplomatic impact than anything attempted by Washington in 1985.
In the end, I made three pretty damn good pizzas. I also would like to say to mom... "Thank You!" I never really understood what cooking dinner for a family and then cleaning up afterwards really meant. I can now say with confidence that it sucks! To think that for twenty-one years you have worked a full day and then returned home to put a delicious meal on the table for your children, makes me want to faint from imaginative exhaustion. I never realized how much of a pain it is because you always made it seem so effortless! Kudos to you and to all the moms or dads who cook for their families everyday.
Though I am exhausted and will be only ordering pizza that some other poor shmuck has labored over from here on out, I must say that the huge smiles and rave reviews from Rimma and Sasha made my war againts the kitchen completely worth it and I can go to sleep tonight proudly asserting that, though I lost a few years on my life, I won the battle!
P.S. Mom, please do not interpret my sudden realization and appreciation for your efforts as a cry to cook and clean more around the house. My point is that, I can now say their is no shame in ordering a pizza!
I quickly learned that homemade food in the US is quite different from homemade food in Suzdal. For example, at home I would have hopped in the car and went down to Market Basket, where I would have bought already prepared pizza dough and all of the necessary ingredients. In Suzdal, I had to learn why tribal women recieved the title and worked ten hour days in the occupation of gatherer. It took three hours to assemble the necessary ingredients to pull of a simple pizza. First I needed to make the dough. We had yeast, oil, salt, and sugar in the house. My host mom tipped me off to a farm up the street where I found an old couple that make their own flour. I traded some cucumbers for a good size sack and then headed off to the next stop. In the garden behind our apartment, I made similar trades with the neighbors for red bell peppers, mushrooms, and an eggplant. I then went into our garden plot where I picked, right off the vine, ten fresh tomatoes and a handful of basil. Italian cheeses are hard to come by, so that took quite a few phone calls and long walks to markets. I finally found some mozzarella and parmesan. Back at the apartment I took a few minutes to regroup with a nice cup of Russian tea. I had everything I needed, including step by step dough directions from the mastermind blogger of the urban kitchen transforming www.generationyfoodie.com, Dara Reppucci herself!
Dough proved to be an easy task. Luckily I am a seasoned vet at simmering up a fresh tomato sauce thanks to mom's directions last week, so I thought that I was on the right track. Now it was time to turn a heap of dough into pizza pies. Sounds easy... unless you dont have a rolling pin. Thats right, I embarked on the hour-long forearm workout of the century. After both figuratively and literally wrestling with pizza dough on the floor, I had three sort of pizza like flatbreads. Like the Russian cousin of Emeril Lagasse, I juggled various fresh toppings while dancing around to the Whitney Houton's greatest hits tape in the 1982 tape deck on top of the fridge. The answer is yes, Whitney did wanna dance with somebody on the other side of the iron curtain. If twenty five years ago Whitney made her way to Suzdal, then it is safe to say that her debut album made more of a diplomatic impact than anything attempted by Washington in 1985.
In the end, I made three pretty damn good pizzas. I also would like to say to mom... "Thank You!" I never really understood what cooking dinner for a family and then cleaning up afterwards really meant. I can now say with confidence that it sucks! To think that for twenty-one years you have worked a full day and then returned home to put a delicious meal on the table for your children, makes me want to faint from imaginative exhaustion. I never realized how much of a pain it is because you always made it seem so effortless! Kudos to you and to all the moms or dads who cook for their families everyday.
Though I am exhausted and will be only ordering pizza that some other poor shmuck has labored over from here on out, I must say that the huge smiles and rave reviews from Rimma and Sasha made my war againts the kitchen completely worth it and I can go to sleep tonight proudly asserting that, though I lost a few years on my life, I won the battle!
P.S. Mom, please do not interpret my sudden realization and appreciation for your efforts as a cry to cook and clean more around the house. My point is that, I can now say their is no shame in ordering a pizza!
Russian style pepperoni
Red Peppers, Eggplant, and Mushrooms
Marinated Chicken and Red Peppers
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