When I was a kid there were many weekends we ended with making pizza for dinner. I would watch my dad mix the dough he had poured from a box. While we waited for the dough to rise he would butter the baking sheets so the dough wouldn’t stick. He’d prep the toppings and pre-heat the oven. Once the dough was ready he’d meticulously knead the dough into the shape of the baking sheet. Pressing it tight into the corners and making sure it was the same thickness throughout. He’d spread the sauce, space out the pepperoni perfectly, and sprinkle on the cheese.
Our pizza dinners growing up were something I looked forward to and have started to do with my family. My son was the one who got us started. He began asking if we could make our own pizzas and seeing how I have fond memories of making pizza with my dad I knew we had to do it.
We make personal pizzas so everybody gets to put what they want on their pizza. I like this because I like to have more than just pepperoni and my son likes it because he gets to create the pizza he wants. He helps with everything but making the dough. And when we pull the final product out of the oven he’s so excited and can’t wait to get it cut.
It’s not perfect, it’s not instagram pretty, and the flavor is good but not great. The experience is what makes it worth the effort. Standing in the kitchen with my son at my side creating the meal we will be eating is why I don’t mind the extra work of making our own pizzas. Knowing that I’m creating memories with my family that will stay with me makes the mistakes forgotten. Taking the time to make traditions for our family is why I cook in the first place.