Because I look like I know what I'm doing?

At the pizza party I was handed a hunk o' dough and invited to make whatever kind of pizza I wanted. But here's the thing. I didn't know what to do with it.

I didn't know you had to worry about over-working it. Or that you want to gently stretch it. And that there really is a reason for flinging it up in the air.

My partner in pizza, A, took over part way through and started flinging. And then we pressed it into what was meant to be a circle.

Which turned out to be a not-circle. But, interestingly enough, a heart! A heart-shaped pizza was OK with us.

We negotiated ingredients, came to agreement, and popped it in the oven quite delighted. Because it was going to be a fantastic pizza. And so charmingly shaped! No?

When our pizza, which we just knew would be amazing, came out of the oven, A asked if I wanted to cut it. And I told him he was welcome to do so.

He, very cleverly, cut a jagged line down the middle. Because what suits a heart pizza more?

When people asked what was on a broken heart pizza, we said that the toppings varied by individual. I mean, you could start with tomato sauce, peppers, pesto, spinach.

But depending on the person, you might include any or all of the following: one-night stands, liquor, regrets, chocolate, crying jags, drunken phone calls...

Really, ingredients for a broken heart pizza are wide open.

The pizza turned out to be not so great. The peppers we thought were hot were not. Our crust was too thick, thus doughy (mea culpa). It was pretty on the outside, raw on the inside. Alas. But perhaps fitting.

And hey, on a completely unrelated note, although it does nicely fall under today's rubric, it's my six-month anniversary in the world of blog!