This weekend, after an outing at the Oregon Zoo, the family went to a fairly new pizza restaurant in town.
I am always up for pizza. And I love finding a new pizza place, in hopes that it will have good pizza. It’s hard to find good pizza around here, which is one of the reasons I work so hard at perfecting my own homemade recipe.
This place, The Rock, is good. It has a wood-fired pizza oven, their crust is decent, and they coat it with a really good house-made sauce. And true to their Rock’n'Roll theming, every one of their standard pies carries a name that harkens to a song title.
Michael, of course, would be having a special cheese-less pizza, while the rest of us would be choosing from the menu.
Sister S and Sister L were both undecided, but were both split on the same two: “Harvest Moon” or “White Christmas”. They asked my opinion to help them each decide.
The restaurant was loud and crowded, the service was slow, and I was hungry. So I tossed it back on them: “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”
They came up with the clever solution of each getting one and then sharing.
Once the pizzas were delivered we all dived in. White Christmas was a white-sauce based pizza, with garlic and mozzarella. It was very tasty. The other one was pretty good too, as sister S proffered up a sample.
“What’s this?” she asked, handing me a crusty bit of topping.
“I don’t know… tastes like cheese to me.” And it did taste like crunchy, well-toasted cheese.
“Are you sure it isn’t meat? I think this is meat,” she said, concerned. Sister S, as I have mentioned before, has chosen a vegetarian lifestyle.
“I don’t know… it doesn’t taste like meat to me,” I said, though by this point I was having my doubts. “What was on the pizza?”
“Garlic and olives and peppers and other stuff. It didn’t say anything about meat!”
“The ingredients list isn’t going to say ‘meat’, silly. It’ll say bacon or ham or sausage or something,” her mom said.
“Well I didn’t see any of those listed.”
By this point, the menu is but a distant memory, having been whisked away long ago by our waitress.
But of course, in this wonderfully wireless age, I have access to the menu via iPhone.
A few quick keystrokes and I had pulled up the ingredients list for the pizza Sister S ordered.
And sure enough, toward the end of the list, was Prosciutto.
Which is a fancy name for ham.
Which would definitely fall in the “meat” category of comestibles.
“It’s prosciutto,” I called out above the din.
“It IS MEAT!” I said, louder.
“Oh, geez.” She quickly and disgustedly began plucking the offensive substance from her pizza.
Her mom and I exchanged glances and stifled snickers.
“Didn’t you see that on the list?” I asked.
“I didn’t know what it was!” she said, still searching for stray bits of the detestable material.
“Well if you didn’t know, why didn’t you ask?”
“I don’t know!”
Another practical example of why it’s so important to get a good education. And to pay attention to the cooking channel.