So today I'm catching the train to Bendigo to cook dinner for the Mulqueens and Folwer-Browns.
What could be better to feed a growing and starving family than PIZZA!
So last night I'm making pizza dough. Let me tell you, like everything else in this world "practice makes perfect". The first batch I made just didn't seem to be the right mix of wet and dry, and every time I dipped my hands in the water to give it extra moistness I was forced to dust a little more flour on top. So I'm doing the mixing right next to the kitchen sink so's that I can wet my hands at will when "POP"; the whole bowl ends up in the sink. Fortunately the dough mixture didn't sink and only received a quick shallow bath.
So I check on my little dough balls of joy this morning and, sure enough, the second lot I made have risen majestically t'ward heaven, whilst the first attempt sit their unrisen, embarrased, retarded.
I think we're having a garlic or margharita for starters; then a mushroom and thyme and garlic; a hot Mexican salami; a prosciutto rocket and parmesan; a real ham and pineapple; and to finish, a flaming banana pizza for dessert. I was originally in charge of the whole pizza thing, but when I explained my M.O. and the pizzas I had planned to make (Aussie with an extra egg; Marinara; Capricossa etc.) somebody decided that they were too meaty and too cheesy. Now suddenly we are all eating pizzas that may appeal to homosexuals. The Mulqueen men are more robust. I fear they may well go out for Maccas at the sight of our gay pizzas.