The oven in the apartment has this little quirk where the door does not stay open by itself. You can literally hang the most minuscule dish rag on it and it will stay open. Try to push it down and leave it, no chance in..Honduras (Yeah, that was really cheesy).
Tonight my cooking team and I attempted the never-before-done PIZZA. That’s right. Good, hearty, american style pizza with home-made dough; I used Mellow Mushroom as my inspiration. I have to admit it seemed near impossible but we had to try. You see, the team has been craving pizza for a few weeks now. The ironic part of it all is that this past weekend we all went and got pizza in San Pedro Sula–we did this in 3 separate groups.
Nonetheless, we set out on friday to do pizza on Monday and so we carried out plan through until the end. We strategically collected all of the ingredients at a super-awesome super market in San Pedro, and moseyed around the Sunday Market here in Cofradía to pick out the remaining vegetables and cheese. We even made the dough the night before so that we could execute in a timely fashion.
The dough had risen and smelled appetizing, the sauce was stewing on the stove, we had sliced all the toppings and we began constructing. We were doing it! It smelled wonderful. There was flour all over the apartment, but we didn’t we were successfully making pizza.
We pulled the first one out, and the comments starting coming, mouths started watering, needless to say, I was starting to feel pretty proud of my efforts so far. People were all eating and we were finishing up the second round of pizza.
We made a total of 6 pizzas. Numbers 1-4 were devoured in minutes and came out looking delicious. I even added a little touch I learned from “the Mellow” and added parmesan cheese on the crust with a little olive oil to make it stick. We were feasting. Then it happened.
We were pulling out the 5th pizza, our second margarita, to put the basil on for some final touches. Upon re-entry into the oven I let the oven door go. In an instant, the door came flying up and Giulio had no choice, drop the pizza or burn a hand. He dropped the pizza. Our beautiful tomato-basil creation landed face down on the floor of the oven. Admittedly, this was all my fault as I was the one who let go of the oven door.
In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am in Honduras. This means that we do not waste. Yes, I scraped the remnants off the bottom of the oven and smeared them on the bottom of our pizza. The “failure” was in the process of digesting in people’s stomaches within a matter of moments. WE ate the whole thing…it’s the DU DU.
The pizza was still good. Number 6 came out right, but a silly, insignificant, faulty oven door kept me from delivering perfection at the dinner table. Honduras, I will get you back.
Aggghhh F! (our new favorite phrase when something goes wrong)
If you are interested in donating a new oven door, please contact Laurence Birdsey at BECA.*
*Not a serious request, unless you are feeling super generous. We would much prefer velcro.
