© |
|
| © |
 |
||||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
suggest your mother, tell your story: click here |
 |
|
pizza and mein papaby Diana SerbeIf it wasn't for pizza, my father would never have set foot in the kitchen. That was woman's work and my mother was a fabulous cook. However an inventive Neapolitan in the 17th century conjured up pizza, and my father found a culinary interest that led him to discover recipes for authentic Neapolitan pizza. My mother enjoyed his cooking, since it gave her that rare break from the kitchen. His children enjoyed it as well, in part for the food, in part for the elfish sense of humor that attended his experiments. Pizza and laughter went together, just as my father and wicked puns went together. He argued gleefully with other pizza lovers about pizza dough, pizza stones, pizza ovens. He experimented constantly with the placement of stones and the positioning of pizza in the oven. Should it go ONLY into the oven, or did it need a quick browning under the broiler? He preferred Neapolitan style pizza which has the thin, crisp crust - the same kind that take-out places delight in turning into a soggy mass of excess oil and cheese.When Dad was experimenting with toppings, he'd be exacting and careful in the placement of ingredients, all of which had to be of the top quality. Then he became fascinated with the possibility of using the dough as a wrapping and he went on to conquer calzone, made with carefully trimmed bits of prosciutto. Dad was a slender man who eschewed fats. Basically he was a traditionalist and claimed that the people who were strewing broccoli on top of their pizza were eating burnt vegetables. He stayed with the traditional tastes and learned to cook them perfectly. We remember pizza, but we remember, too, that Dad's main characteristic was his sense of humor. Though he took himself very seriously in the kitchen, he was also laughing at himself being serious. The combination was magical, because he was always ready to laugh at his mishaps. Thank you, Dad. I feel you always, sitting on my shoulder helping me to laugh at my own predicaments. the
history of pizza
top of page previous papa next papa go to the mothers contact us membership agreement
|
 |
||
 |
||