There via the Pizza Portal

Maybe it was just me, but I’m guessing somebody out there is going to be able to relate to this:  Do you remember being a child and looking at your

parents, and seeing all that they had built, and were the caretakers of, and had authority over, and

thinking “I’m going to be THERE someday”?  Not there physically, or financially…  Just THERE. 

At the top end of the family food chain; the proverbial umbrella under which the kids and pets and

responsibilities all stood.  

I was probably eight or nine when I experienced that ‘here-and-there’ moment for the first time. 

I realized, quite clearly, that I was in a stage of life that was in the “here”; on the early part of a

growth-slope, ever climbing.  And that, someday (hopefully), I would be “there”; at the top of a mountain

of life that I (with God’s help and a loving husband) had risen up from non-existence to something

purposeful. 

It occurred to me that, upon arrival at the top, I would have reached the stage where my parents were

at then, having become to my children who theywere to me; protectors, providers, comforters, guides, tradition-setters, disciplinarians, examples… 

I would get to be the actor making things happen in life - as opposed, I guess, to the act-ee upon which

life was happening.  I would get to be the one who chose the paint colors and bedtime stories and

decided what we ate (or didn’t eat) for dinner.  I would get to pick the pets and the vacation destinations,

and show my kids all the things that I wanted them to see.  My world, my way, but with the ultimate goal

of sharing it with others. 

An awful lot of stuff that eludes proper description fits into the “there” that I mostly just felt, and could

never really articulate.  But somehow, as certain as I was that I was a child then in the “here”, I was

equally assured that I would eventually find myself in the “there”.  The right ingredients - if you will -

would come together (growth, maturity, knowledge, strength, understanding, a job and money, and

opportunities to express myself as an individual, and to create an environment and opportunities for

my family).  These ingredients would eventually produce “there” for me at some point in the future.  

The thought was both simple and profound, and I visited it occasionally after that first night at the dinner

table.  

In my childhood years I would think of it from time to time as just that sure destination down the road of

life, hard to see but certain to happen.  

Throughout adolescence, as the key pieces were coming together, I would check in on it with real

anticipation.  Things like getting my driver’s license, becoming a legal adult, and moving out for college

all brought me steps closer to being “there”.   

Eventually I began to look for it expectantly.  I got married, but something was still missing.  That was

okay, it couldn’t be far off.  

I had my first baby, but it was still out of reach.  

We grew a little family, and bought our first house, but I still wasn’t “there”.  

At some point I began to wonder what was missing.    

Then, during the sleep deprived fog of the early years of motherhood that were marked by having 4

daughters under 6 years old, I realized a whole new level of busy-ness and exhaustion.  Survival was

the goal, and even achieving just that overwhelmed my brain and senses, and left little room for worrying

about the “there.”  I forgot about it completely.  

And that’s what half of this post is about.  The other half is about PIZZA!  

Around about January of 2012, I was struggling to survive the daily grind of homeschooling my

kindergartener, safe-guarding my physically able/ambitious 4-year-old, potty training my 2-year-old and

feeding and changing the baby pretty much every hour.  The process left me feeling drained, and very

much “dulled” to a subhuman state of “all work and no play.”  So I decided that this was a good time to start a new family tradition.  (Of course, I had nothing else to

do, clearly...)   

But it couldn’t be just any tradition.  I had some requisites for it to meet.

I wanted it to be a way to carve out a night that was specifically for family time (which is really funny,

because every day already was ‘family time’ before my kids were old enough to drive and have social lives).  I think I was really looking

for an excuse to put aside the unfinished tasks and sit down to do something fun with my kids every

Saturday night.  Ideally, my new family tradition would be something cheap and easy, too, that we could

afford the money and time to do every week.  I wanted it to be something that could grow with us;

something that they wouldn’t get “too old” for.  I wanted it to be flexible; able to include guests or friends

occasionally, but would mostly be an “us” thing.  It needed to be something everyone would enjoy.  And

everyone needs to eat. Thus “Pizza Night” was born. 

I still have a picture of that very first one somewhere…  

Pizza night went through various stages of growth and development before becoming what it is now,

11 years after that first fateful one.  In the early months we started by having each kid roll out, and top,

their own little pizzas.  That route was abandoned pretty quickly, though, and I just started having them

all CHOOSE their toppings while I did that actual MAKING of the pizzas.  A few months in we introduced

ice cream for dessert, followed by a game or movie together.  Eventually I bought an ice-cream maker.  

Not everyone was as excited about it as I was at first.  There was groaning about the prep time it took,

and fighting over the ice cream flavor and the game and movie selection, and lots of dishes, and a few

burned pizzas…  Some nights we didn’t even get to the movie or game because everyone was tired and

cranky.  But by the time we moved to our new house the 5-year-old tradition was something everyone in

our family had grown to love and expect.  

Then one night, somewhere around year eight, I was standing at the kitchen island rolling out dough

when one of my daughters wandered through the house with a friend.  The friend saw the pizza

operation in full swing and asked about it, and something very close to the following conversation took

place as they passed through ~

Friend: “What is your mom making?”

Daughter: “Pizza.”

Friend: “She’s making pizza?”

Daughter: “Yeah, we have homemade pizza and ice cream every Saturday night.”

Friend (eyes wide): “Every Saturday?!”

Daughter: “Yeah. It’s so good.  And we usually play a game or watch a movie.  It’s like, my favorite tradition.  Except

Christmas…” 

And suddenly, quite unexpectedly, I was “there” at last.  

I can’t say whether or not it was actually the pizza that accomplished it; as if somehow the years-long, repeated culinary process of perfecting pizza had advanced me

through some mystical, pepperoni-lined portal to the elusive, adults-only realm of “there”...  or whether,

perhaps (and much more likely), the discussion about the tradition had simply caused the realization it.  

Either way, I had finally made it to the “there” I’d been searching for, by the grace of God, and with the

help of pizza.  

I still can’t really explain the feeling.  It just is what it is.  

So, now, if you’re NOT under the impression that I’m completely crazy, and you too have been hunting the elusive “there”, then don’t give up, and don’t try to force it.  It’ll turn up when

you least expect it.  And if you happen to be looking for a new family tradition, or just a fun recipe to try,

I’ll drop my pizza instructions below.  :) 

Pizza Dough Recipe:

(for a single 16” thin-rolled-stuffed-crust or hand-tossed pizza with a bit extra, or two 14” thin crust

pizzas)

3 cups All-purpose flour

½ tsp Salt

¼ tsp Onion Powder

Pinch of Garlic powder (optional)

3 tsp. Yeast

3 Tbsp. Olive Oil

1 ⅛ cup warm water (~88°F)

Mix the flour, salt, garlic and yeast in a bowl.  
With a stand mixer and dough hook (or wooden spoon) mix in the water and oil until dough starts to

form.  
Knead by hand or with a dough hook until dough is stretchy and doesn’t break when pulled.  It should

still be a bit tacky.  
Rise in a greased bowl until doubled (about 60 minutes), punch down and rise until ready to use.  You

can repeat this step several times; the more you do the more airy and crispy the dough will be.  
Preheat your oven to 500-510°F (yeah, you want it good and HOT)
Stretch/toss/roll out on a lightly floured surface.  Transfer to a greased pizza pan. 
Top accordingly.
Bake for 17-20 minutes (depending on your oven).  

Personally I make a 1.5 batch of the dough, and rise it at least twice if I have the time. This makes 2

stuffed crust pizzas.  I roll it thin and stuff the crust with strips of low-moisture mozzarella.  I do this by

rolling the dough about 4” wider in diameter than my pan, and lining the rim of the pan with the cheese

slices, and then folding the dough back over it and pressing it down firmly.  I usually use store-bought

sauce, but you can make your own.  I mix a 1:1 ratio of low-moisture and whole milk mozzarella that I

shred myself so it’s not powdery.  Each 16” pizza will need about 12-16 oz. of cheese to really cover it

well.  If you like, you can brush olive oil with garlic powder over the crust prior to baking and/or sprinkle

it with parmesan cheese as soon as you remove it from the oven.  

Thanks for letting me share pizza night with you!