Heirloom Tomato Pizza

     I stopped by my friend Debi's house after work on Wednesday.  She seems to have an overabundance of basil and cannot find enough uses for it.  We walked out to her garden, and I saw that her basil plants were so tall they were about waist high.  I hewed them down with a trusty pair of kitchen shears and made myself a beautiful bouquet.  She had offered to give me a jar of pre-made pesto sauce that she had in her kitchen, but what is the fun in that?  Especially since there is all of this gorgeous basil that is crying out for purpose.

     I brought my bundle of herbs home and put them in a glass of water.  I pulled off enough leaves to measure two cups worth.  I looked though my fridge.  Oh yeah.... I ran out of garlic last week.  I looked through the fridge again, hoping I was mistaken.  No hidden jar of garlic.  I checked the cupboard where I usually keep an extra jar.  Nope.  Then, a thought struck me.  Earlier this spring, Jeff had mentioned that the garlic we had planted a couple of years ago had sprung up where the garden used to be.  What are the chances it is harvestable?  I had to check it out.  I donned my sandals and headed out to the far reaches of the yard.

     The area where Jeff had seen the garlic sprout was completely overgrown with weeds.  Not just any weeds, either.  These were super-colossal giant man-eating weeds.  I took a deep breath and dove in.  I found an onion.  I found several greens that look like it could be harboring a bulb of garlic underneath, but there was nothing under the dirt.  I searched a little while longer, hopeful that there was something tasty back there, but the weeds and the mosquitoes won.  I headed back inside with no garlic nor any facsimile of garlic.

     Once more, I looked through the refridgerator.  I emptied the vegetable drawer, I actually moved items (even dumped some scary looking containers that may have been food at one time), and I rearranged all of the pickles, jellies, mustards, and various condiments, looking for anything I could substitute.  I was rearranging the cheeses in the deli drawer, when I found it: half a bulb of garlic!  Eureka!  It wasn't much, but I figured it could get me by for now, and I could always add more tomorrow after I had gone to the store.

     I threw the basil, the garlic, and the oil into the Vitamix.  I opened the fridge again and realized I didn't have pine nuts either (again.... or still).  I still had hazelnuts, though, and that seemed to work great last time.  I threw those in and whirred it up with some Parmesan.  The licorice-y, green, garlicky aroma filled the kitchen, and my concoction became a beautiful bright green paste.

     I went back outside to get my heirloom tomatoes from the garden.  I hadn't been out to the garden for a few days.  Last time I was out there, there were several tomatoes on the plants, but they were mostly green still.  There were so many, in fact, that the plants were falling over and taking the tomato cages down with them.  I had righted them at the time, but I saw that some of the plants had rebelled again.  I walked inside the gate of the garden, and I was just heartbroken.  The chipmunks or squirrels or some hideous rodent type creature had been taking bites out of all the tomatoes.  Whatever it was wasn't content with taking a tomato or two and eating it all.  No, it had to take a bite out of each one and let the remainder of the orb rot on the vine.  Out of 30 tomato plants, I was only able to find 5 whole ripe tomatoes.  On the bright side, most of the ones I was able to salvage were zebra tomatoes.
     Once I was back in the kitchen, I looked over the second pizza recipe on the schedule.  It was called Smorgasbord, and the directions basically said to make any type of dough; divide the dough into 15 small pizzas; and bake it without toppings.  The idea was to set out several spreads, meats, and other stuff that each person could build their own snack.  I chose the rye crust and let my Kitchen Aide make the dough.  I set is aside to rise, while I enjoyed dinner with my husband.

     Unfortunately, I had forgotten about my poor dough until I was on my way to bed.  When I walked through the kitchen on my way, I saw the shiny metal bowl with the giant bubble of dough inside.  If I were to bake the little pizza doughs at that point, I would be up for another hour at least - dividing the dough, rolling it out, waiting for them to bake, and then waiting for them to cool once I had pulled them out of the oven.  I couldn't bring myself to do it.  I covered the mixer bowl with plastic wrap and placed the whole thing in the fridge in the empty spot that had been created earlier in my garlic search.  Then, I went to bed.

     Pam had texted me on Wednesday and told me she wasn't going to be able to make it for Thursday.  Jennifer was out of town and wasn't sure if Roger and the kids were going to join us.  She said she would make sure that they called if they were going to show up.  I hadn't heard from them.

     When I got home from work Thursday, I realized it was going to be a romantic evening for two.  There is no use in making 15 mini pizzas for the two of us AND an heirloom tomato pizza AND drink of the week.  I already had the dough, though, for the mini pizzas, so I was going to have to cook the crusts.  I could use them for anything, though, so it wasn't a big deal.  And, if Jeff and I decided that the one pizza wasn't enough, we could always throw some of the suggested toppings from the Smorgasbord recipe on top of a mini pizza or two and add those to our meal.

     I rolled out the grilling crust dough.  I sliced a couple of the zebra tomatoes and a "big mama" tomato.  I shredded half the Fontina and sliced the other half, and then I headed outside to the grill.  After it had warmed up, and I was able to scrape last weeks spillover off the grates, I plopped the dough on the grill over the burners that were on.  After a couple of minutes, it was ready to flip, and I carefully built the pizza - I spread the pesto over the crust, placed the sliced cheese on top of the pesto and alternated the green tomatoes and red tomatoes around the pizza.  I sprinkled chives, oregano, and sage over the tomatoes.  I covered the tomatoes and herbs with cheese and closed the lid of the grill to let the magic happen.

     It was fabulous - juicy, tart, cheesy.  It was both bright and creamy at the same time.  Jeff and I ate the entire pizza in no time flat.  We even considered licking the paddle on which it had been served.

Onion & Anchovy Pizza; Apple and Cheddar Cheese Pizza; Cherry Sling

     I had originally thought I was going to cancel pizza night.  My parents and Pam and I were planning a weekend trip to Washington State to visit relatives, and I thought we were leaving Thursday night.  I skipped my Sunday/Monday grocery trip.
     On Tuesday morning, I was informed that we were actually leaving Friday morning - early.  Our flight was at 7:25am on Friday, so we would have to leave my house around 6am.  No human should be required to get up earlier than 6am any day of the week, and I was thinking I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy the evening before if were to have to get up at 5:30am or earlier.  However, I convinced myself otherwise, because I can always sleep on the plane (and always DO), and I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have my peeps over for pizza and drinks.  So I made a quick trip to the grocery store on the way home from work on Tuesday.

     I decided to start on Wednesday with the Brioche dough.  I mixed the water, sugar, and yeast in my little measuring cup.  I never used to "proof" the yeast before I used it.  I was too impatient and I usually just popped the dough into the freezer instead of baking it right away, so I thought I might use up all of the bubbling before the crust was baked if it started out bubbling.  I started doing it recently, because I had other things I could do while it bubbled away on the counter, and I am frequently putting the crust in the fridge for a slow rise instead of the freezer.  I just love the smell the yeast puts off when it's combined with water and sugar.  It is like fresh-baked bread - it is a warm, homey smell that instantly makes me hungry.  It is fascinating to watch, too.  It just keeps swirling around in the cup and starts foaming up, so it looks like a mini-cup of cappuccino.

   I threw the flour, salt, and eggs into the bowl of my Kitchen Aide.  Once the milk and butter had cooled, I threw that in there as well.  I mixed for a bit, but the dough was still very wet.  I probably ended up adding another full cup of flour (if not more) to keep it from sticking to the bowl, my fingers, and anything else with which it came into contact.  It seemed like a lot of dough, but I bagged it and threw it into the fridge for tomorrow.  That was about as far as I could go in preparing for the Apple Cheddar pizza, because the apples would brown if I would cut them in advance, and everything else would be fairly easy and quick to pull together.
     I looked over the recipe for the Grilled Onion and Anchovy pizza.  I realized that I did not purchase any anchovies, nor did I purchase any nicoise olives.  It may have been a message from my subconscious.  I have never been a fan of anchovies.  I have included them in previous recipes and even enjoyed them in the final concoction, but I don't like touching them, and I certainly don't like the thought of them (hairy fish) while I am eating.  I don't completely LOVE olives, either.  As a general rule, I do keep a supply of various olives on hand, but nicoise are not part of the repertoire. 

     I ran through the reasons one would add anchovies to a pizza.  It gives it a salty, oily flavor.  OK, what did I have that was salty and oily?  Blue cheese!  It was salty and oily, but would add a lovely level of creaminess to the pizza.  And, I could use a different type of olives.  I had regular black olives.  I find blue cheese and black olives to be a very delicious combination, so that was it.

     I decided to caramelize the onions.  Apparently, there is a thin line between "caramelizing" and "burning".  I may have traversed across that line with a toe or a couple of feet or maybe I tripped and fell over it.  Anyway, my onions were a little Cajun-style.  They were "blackened".   I thought I could throw them onto the stove at a low temperature and go find my husband to ask him about his day and chit chat with him for a while before checking on them again.  Either I was incorrect, or he was more verbose than usual.  I blame him.  I tasted the onions, though, and they tasted good - they just looked bad.  I decided to use them.  Any bitterness that was caused by the blackening would be neutralized by the blue cheese.

     After I made the garlic oil, I decided I had done enough damage, and I went to bed.

     When Jennifer arrived, I put her to work rolling out the Apple Cheddar pizza dough.  I set Pam up with the apples and asked her to cut them into "D" shapes.  I was a little worried about it, because last time I allowed her to slice, she was unable to produce thin, uniform slices.  Oh well, apples will look rustic in the pie if they aren't similarly shaped.  She actually did very well, however.  Jennifer's rolling skills were called into question, however.  She made, what I like to call, a rustic crust.  She did decide (and I agree with her decision) that the amount of dough was a greater amount than we needed.  She cut the dough in half and put one half into the freezer.  Meanwhile, I melted the butter and the apricot preserves.

     After reading through the ingredient list for the apple cheddar pizza, I decided that instead of making a rim to the crust and baking it on a flat pizza stone, I would put the crust into a deep dish pan, ensuring that there would be no spill-over.
     Jennifer combined the applesauce, the sugar, and the cornstarch and spread it over the crust.

         Pam's "D" slices and Jennifer's artistic arrangement made for a beautiful pie.  We brushed on the apricot/butter combo over the apples as instructed.  We arranged the "julienned" cheddar over the top of that.  I don't think that we arranged them to look like a star burst, but it was pretty.

     It was even more beautiful after it was cooked.

     Jennifer brought a "commercial" meat-lover's pizza for the kids and Roger, and that was also gorgeous and delicious!

     I pre-poked the crust for the grilled pizza, and it seemed to help.  We didn't get that usual tumor bubble in an awkward place in the crust.  It stayed as one cohesive piece of bread.  I flipped the crust to the cool side of the grill and topped it with the garlic oil, the "blackened" onions, the anchovies (er, I mean the blue cheese), and the olives.  I closed the lid of the grill and let it swelter in the indirect heat.

     We nibbled on the meat-lover's pizza while we grilled the onion and anchovy pizza.  Just after we sliced the grilled pizza, the back-yard gate opened, and Becky and Eric, our long lost neighbors walked in.  Becky and Eric grew up next door to us and are more like a sister and a brother than a "neighbor".  They both happened to be visiting from Colorado and decided to pop in.

     We Freese Sisters had already had a couple of Cherry Slings, but I ran inside to make them some.

     The fresh sour has now become a staple in our home.  Jeff scoffed at me when I told him I was going to make my own.  He said you can buy a whole liter of it for $1.33 at Cub, why would you waste your time squeezing all of those lemons and limes?  Once he tasted it, though, he was hooked and actually asks me to refill the pitcher once it's empty.

     I did not want to purchase cherry heering or Benedictine for the drink, since I already had kirsch and cognac.  I actually didn't have enough of the kirsch to cover this drink, but I did have Evan Williams Cherry, which I added to make up the difference.  Pam asked what it was, when I pulled it off of the liquor shelf, so I gave her a mini-shot to try.  She really enjoyed it.  It is sweet and cherry, but there is just a hint of the whiskey underneath that gives it its name.  I didn't have pretty cherries, like the ones in the picture, but I did have cinnamon cherries that I tried to hang on the sides of the glass. Since none of them were attached to another by the stem, though, they simply fell to the bottom of the glass.  This wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  Sure, you didn't have the pretty dressing while you were drinking the concoction, but once you are done, it was like a little present at the bottom of the glass.

     When I did the encore for Becky and Eric, I only had enough ingredients to make a mini drink for each of them.  They both tried it, and Becky said that it was pretty strong, and she probably couldn't drink a whole one anyway.  Eric, of course, liked it and slurped it up in a moment.  New drinks were required!

     I tried to replicate the drink without the crushed ice.  I threw some ice in a shaker and added the Evan Williams Cherry, the cognac, the pineapple juice, the black cherry jam, the gin, and sour.  I shook it and poured it into martini glasses.  I thought it was even better than the original - no diluting of the precious liquor.  Becky choked on it a little bit and made some comment about me giving her a stronger drink after she told me the first one was pretty strong.  I thought I was just toughening her up.

     After catching up, and after we had eaten as much of the main dishes as we were going to (we filled our main dish pocket, but not our dessert pocket), we were ready to move on to the apple cheddar pizza.  However, we had been outside for the entire meal, and at this point, the mosquitoes were jealous of our feeding frenzy and decided to start one of their own.  We moved the party inside, and with that the discussion blossomed into a massive political discussion.  I should mention that our sister from a different mister and our brother from another mother (and father, for that matter) are liberals, and the rest of us are not.  I, diplomatically, stayed quiet.  I am not as strong leaning as Pam and Becky and Eric are (in either direction), but it was fun to listen to the good-natured arguing.   It doesn't matter what your tilt is, it is amusing to watch the animation that goes on between friends in such arguments.  Neither believes that the other is correct, but at the end of the day, they are still friends.

     The apple cheddar pizza was great, though!  There were seconds served to a few, and I even sent the final (single) piece home with Becky - reportedly for her mother, but I suspect that she ate it on the way home.  It was sweet, but the sharp cheddar was a nice foil - it created a rich, creamy counterpoint to the sweet apples, but added a little kick with the sharpness of the cheese.  We all agreed that it was quite delicious, but more cheese might have made it spectacular.

Pizza Egg Rolls, Grilled Vegetable Pizza, Green-Eyed Lady

     I need to know how you buy a honey dew melon.  I thought you were supposed to sniff it, and it was supposed to smell like the flavor of the melon.  I sniffed all of the melons that Cub had, and none of them smelled like what I felt the melon should taste like.  I also have heard that you are supposed to knock on the melon, and it should sound hollow.  That theory is what I ended up going with, because none of them smelled like anything I wanted to eat.  Maybe none of them WERE something I wanted to eat.  I tried the melon after a couple of days, and it definitely didn't taste like I wanted it to (think water chestnuts with extra water).

     I cut the thing up any way.  I didn't know what else to do with it.  I cannot just throw it away and start over.  I guess I was hoping that it would magically ripen or that the small sample that Jeff and I had was the "wrong" part of the melon, and the right parts were quite delicious.

     I decided to make more sour.  Jeff really sucked up the remainder of the last batch I made, so even if we didn't need it for the drink because we decided to scrap the drink for the reason of the unripe melon, Jeff would make good use of it with whiskey.  I squeezed four lemons and four limes and added the simple syrup.  If I keep this up every week, my forearms are going to be really buff!

     I wanted to make the pesto in advance, so I wouldn't be scrambling for herbs when my guests came the following day.  I went out to the green house to gather my basil.  Alas, it was still the same stumpy plants it had been all summer, even though I have replanted it several times.  I snipped what I could, but I didn't have enough to fulfill the requirements of the recipe.  I looked around me.  I snipped some oregano.  Still not enough volume.  I took some chives, some garlic chives, and a smidgen of tarragon.  That ought to cover the amount of herbs that I needed.

     I came back inside, rinsed the herbs, and threw them into the Vitamix.  Next ingredient was: pine nuts.  I was sure that I didn't need to buy these.  Actually, I forgot to read the recipe for the pesto before I constructed my shopping list, so I didn't buy any.  I looked around the fridge, because I always seem to have pine nuts for some reason or another.  Nothing.  I did have hazelnuts, though.  That ought to work.  I threw those in.  Next:  Garlic.  I ALWAYS have garlic.  I usually have a jar, another jar on reserve, and a bulb or two just in case.  I looked around.  I had an almost empty jar of pre-chopped garlic in the refrigerator.  I looked in my emergency stash cupboard.   It was completed devoid of any garlic.  I made do.  I poured in the rest of the jar that was in the refrigerator and sprinkled a little of my dried garlic granules into the mix.  I also added in some chunks of Parmesan (don't need to pre-grate with the Vitamix).  I whirred everything up and then added the olive oil.  I kept whirring until everything seemed sufficiently combined.  It was a lovely bright green color.

     Next on my list of things to prepare was the vegetables.  It called for paddy pan squash.  I didn't have that, and I refused to buy any type of squash during the summer, when I am usually overrun by zucchini and summer squash.  Unfortunately, though, three of my four summer squash plants were killed in some freak drought incident (meaning, we never watered them, and they shriveled up and died).  I was able to rescue ONE zucchini, however.  That was my substitute for the paddy pan.  I sliced it thickly for grilling. 
     For the mushrooms, the recipe didn't indicate what kind I should use, and, since they are my favorite and (in my opinion, the most flavorful), I chose portabella.  I removed the hard stems and left them whole for grilling.
     It didn't call for it, but I also sliced up thick chinks of cucumber for grilling.  Jeff and I have been grilling them all summer and really enjoy it that way.  It has been our zucchini substitute.  On first taste it is very similar to grilled zucchini, but once you bite in, it has a nice squirt to it - a juiciness that crosses the vegetable line and makes it more fruity.
     The recipe also called for grilled cherry tomatoes, but we didn't grow any this year, and I couldn't foresee buying ANY type of tomatoes, when I have an entire field full of other kinds of tomatoes.  So, I sliced some large tomatoes thickly, thinking that if they were thick, I could sear them at a high heat, flip them, and sear the other side without turning them into mush.
     I brought all of my pre-sliced veggies out to the preheated grill and threw them on.  Unfortunately, after a couple of minutes, my tomatoes still disintegrated.  I was able to salvage some goo, but they weren't the seared solid planks that I was hoping for.  Everything else turned out pretty much as I had expected.  I set them aside to cool.
     While I was grilling the vegetables, I looked into my kitchen through the window and saw my husband on the home phone.  Later in the evening, I asked who had called, and he told me that it was Pam, putting in her pizza reservation (which I thought she had already done via voicemail earlier in the day).  He also said that Judy and Jeb were also coming with dessert.  Awesome!  Judy, our self-chosen "adopted" sister hasn't been to Pizza Night for quite some time. I was looking forward to it.

     For the egg rolls, I retrieved some mild Italian sausage that Jeff had purchased at a drastically reduced price (in massive quantity, of course).  I simply browned that up and set it aside.  Once it had cooled, I mixed it with some jarred spaghetti sauce, the mozzarella, and some grated Parmesan.  Then, I put everything away, started the dishwasher, and went to bed.
    
     I raced home from work and started in on making my house presentable (enough) for company.  I unloaded the dishwasher, swept and mopped the kitchen, and wiped down the counters.  I was really glad that we were going to have a house full of people. 

    Then, I started up the deep-fryer, which I had filled with peanut oil.  I grabbed the sausage, cheese, sauce mixture from the fridge, along with the egg roll wrappers.  The directions for wrapping up the pizza filling left a little to be desired.  It said to put a heaping tablespoon in the center of the wrapper.  That really didn't seem like enough to me.  Maybe I was using too large of a wrapper or maybe I just am an over-stuffer, I don't know.  So, I added a little more than a heaping tablespoon of filling.  I can't figure out why it didn't make all twenty-four pieces that the recipe promised.  I got 14, and since there was only one wrapper left, and it seemed a shame to save it or throw it away, so I threw some ham and cheese in the last one.  Also, it instructed me to fold the wrapper over the filling in such a way that they ended up being square packets.  I was hoping they would be more egg roll shaped, but I wasn't sure how to go about that.  So I obediently followed the directions.

     Pam and the Liggetts showed up with a meat-lover's pizza from Costco and dug in to help.  I put Pam on crust duty - she rolled out the crust for the grilled pizza.  Once she finished that project, she sat on the sidelines and talked with my Dad, who was hadn't been to a pizza night in quite some time.  He was in town to help Jennifer and Roger remodel their kitchen.

 

     Jennifer attacked the frying duties.  I had heated the oven up to 200º to keep the egg rolls warm until they were all ready.  Half-way through, however, I remembered the meat pizza and figured we should start cooking that.  I turned the oven up to 400º.  Jen and I had discussed this maneuver and came to the conclusion that it would only crisp up the egg rolls more.  When Jennifer opened the oven after a bit to add more egg rolls to the pile, we found that they didn't crisp more.  And, in fact, some of them had started leaking their filling.  We decided to remove them from the oven. 

     We baked up the meat-lover's pizza, but not before we noticed that the label claimed it had five meats, but only contained beef and pork.  Apparently, there was bacon, hamburger, salami, pepperoni, and sausage.  And, we were hoping for venison, elk, moose, bear, and caribou. 
     Meanwhile, we mixed up a batch of the Green-Eyed Lady.  Nothing had changed with the melon.  It was still pretty bland.  I threw it into the Vitamix anyway.  I added the absinthe (Lucid) and the Midori in equal parts, and poured in the sour.  I put in a cup full of ice and let it do its thing.

     About this time, Judy and Jeb showed up.  They brought dessert - Babka (I think that was what she called it) - and a present for me!  Judy had made me a pair of earrings for me.  What an awesome surprise!  These two are always so bright and cheery, it really is a pleasure to be around them.  Maybe it will rub off on me...  Hmm, maybe not.  Jennifer, Pam, and I had already finished the first pitcher of Green-Eyed Lady, so Judy and I headed in to make another batch.  She had tasted Jennifer's drink and didn't hesitate when I asked if she wanted her own.  It was sweet and fruity, with just a hint of the anise on the back end of it.   Judy exclaimed that she was going to have to figure out a way to lick the bottom of the martini glass.  I have to say that the booze and syrup drastically improved that melon.  I think this is what I will always do with a melon that hasn't lived up to its potential!

     I had put the crust on the grill just before this, and the drink-making took longer than I had anticipated.  I scorched half of the top of the crust.  Since the crust puffed up on the direct grilling, I was thinking that I could just rip off the burnt parts and drive on.  That didn't really work very well, though, I was starting to make holes in the crust.  Jennifer suggested that with the pesto and all the yummy grilled vegetables, not to mention the blue cheese crumbles, we wouldn't notice or even be able to tell that there was a little char underneath.  I do believe she was right.  The pizza was delicious!

     This is the second drink in a row that we have made that had whole fruit in it.  It seems like (based on these two instances) these types of drinks are more filling than the ones with no fruit.  Of course, it could be that we liked the fruit drinks so much that we drank much more of them than the other drinks.  Hard to say which reason is correct, but I was full after one egg roll and one slice of pizza.

     Even though we were all full, we were all ready for the dessert.  By unspoken mutual agreement, we (well, OK, just the adult females) started bringing dishes inside and loading the dishwasher.  Leftover pizza and egg rolls were portioned off into Ziplocs.  The last of the pitcher was poured into glasses, and the counters were wiped down.  While the last of the dishes and food was coming inside, the boys started scrambling for the inside.  Apparently, the mosquitoes were on the hunt, and they love humans that have a hint of sausage flavoring to them.  Dessert was going to be enjoyed inside.    And, it was.

Shirred Egg Pizza; Duck Breast and Dried Plum Pizza; and Grape Expectations

     Jeff and I went on a duck breast adventure Sunday.  We had gone to Cub, and they disappointed me.  I saw that they had whole ducks there, but I was at a loss at where one might find just the breasts.  I asked the butcher-lady that was there.  "Do you have just duck breasts?"  She said, "No, but we have turkey breasts".  Oh, right.  That is the same thing.  I will take that, thank you.    NOT. 

     We loaded up on the other items that we would be needing for the week, and we went down the "ethnic" aisle for the tahini paste.  I must have walked up and down that isle four times, looking for it.  I know that I have purchased it there before, but I cannot remember which aisle it was in, and I certainly couldn't find it where I thought it should be.  I checked the "Indian" section, the "Italian" and general "Mediterranean" section, and couldn't find it.  I even scoured the "Asian" section and didn't find it there either.  When Jeff went off to look where he thought it might be, a Cub employee appeared before me to stock the Asian items.  I asked her if they had any, and she thought it was interesting that I would ask, because she had just heard the buyer talk to the sales representative that supplies them with tahini, and the verdict was that the supplier had been out of tahini for at least three weeks, so NO, they didn't have any and wouldn't be getting any soon.  Another disappointment.

     We went home and put our groceries away.  I started thinking about how I might obtain the remaining two items on my list.  I may be able to kill two birds with one stone at the Indian grocery store across the street from my work.  However, getting a lunch break to go investigate that option is sort of hit or miss.  I couldn't go Monday after work, because my book club meeting was scheduled for then.  Tuesday was out, because that is bill-day, and Wednesday was more or less out, because that is pizza prep day, and I like to have my ingredients before I start prepping.  If I go before prepping, I may not have time to get everything done that I need to before Thursday.

     We had to go out again anyway to pick up Jeff's car at the oil change place.  The place we take our cars, doesn't have a quick turn-around on the oil change, but they are reasonably priced and are very friendly and close to home.  So, we drop a car there, go home and hang until they call us, then go back and pick it up.  They had called for us to come pick up the latest vehicle, so I suggested to Jeff that we just go up the street from there and check out Lund's before we pick up the car.  We shopped around there; we inquired at the butcher counter about the duck breasts.  The butcher said that they used to carry them frequently in the frozen aisle, but they haven't for a while.  He informed us that they order from the supplier on Mondays, and he could put in a special order for us, if we would like.  Unfortunately, the order wouldn't come in until Thursday morning.  Jeff told him to order 6 breasts, and he would be in to pick them up on Thursday morning.

     That wasn't good enough for me.  I knew that the breasts had to be cooked before pizza assembly.  I was hoping to find smoked breasts, so I could just run with them as they were.  Our lack of success in finding ANY type of breasts thus far, convinced me that I was going to have to cook them myself before I used them in the pizza.  We went home with our $9 tahini (and, of course, some odds and ends that Jeff decided we needed).
     I knew Jeff was itching to take the Corvette out for a Sunday drive, so I called Kowalski's in Eden Prairie to see if they carried duck breasts.  I am not sure who or which department I got a hold  of, but when I asked if they carried duck breasts, it was almost as if  I was speaking a foreign language.  She said, "I don't understand you."  I repeated, "Do you sell duck breasts?".  She said, "Duck roasts?".  I reiterated, "The breasts of duck".  Again, she said she didn't understand.  It was all I could do not to say "BOOBS, lady, I want the BOOBS of the duck!"  I am not sure at this point what I actually did say, but she promptly transferred me to the meat department.  I wish she would have done that in the first place, but had I asked her in English, she may have done just that.  The person in the meat department said they did have them, but they were filleted and frozen.  Perfect.
     Jeff and I have these friends, the Pampuches (Don and Lisa), who are very down-to-earth people.  We used to be in a wine club with them, and Don used to grumble that every time he is with us, I make him eat some "yuppy turd-head" concoction wrapped in a leaf.  We have gone to several restaurants with them, and he usually rates them on some sort of internal "yuppy turd-head" scale.
     I told Jeff that we could take a small ride into Eden Prairie and check out Kowalski's, because they claim to have the elusive duck breasts.  We were on our way, we skipped across Bloomington into Eden Prairie and parked next to a BMW after passing a couple of Jaguars and other such lovely cars.  We went in, got our duck breasts and went back to the 'Vette.  Before Jeff started up the car, he turned to me and said, "We just went on the Ultimate Yuppy Turd-Head Adventure:  We jumped in the 'Vette and drove to EDEN PRAIRIE for DUCK BREASTS!".  OK, WE thought it was funny

  I decided to work on preparing for Pizza Night on Tuesday, because Jeff had called me at work and informed me that Jenna and Jari were "in" for dinner at our house on Wednesday night.  I didn't realize we had extended an invitation.  Sure, Jeff had said that I "should call Jenna" and arrange something for Wednesday night, but frankly, I forgot about it and never called her.  He must have extended the invitation and forgotten about it.  Anyway, I thought I should take care of my prep work for Thursday on Tuesday, so Wednesday, we could hang out with our friends and not worry about what I wasn't getting done for Thursday.

     I thought I should start with this "Gougere" thing.  I had assumed it was some kind of pastry crust.  The description in the book didn't really enlightened me.  I am not quite sure what a small tartlet tin is...  I figured a muffin pan would fit the bill.  I greased one 6 muffin pan.
     I read on.  OK, so I need to boil the butter and water with some pepper.  I skipped the salt, because I wasn't using unsalted butter.  I reread the ingredient list: "1 cup of butter (8 tbsp)."  Hmm, that doesn't seem right.  I pull out a stick of butter.  It says right on the package that 8 tablespoons is 1/2 cup.  Now, the dilemma is: how much do I put in?  8 tablespoons or one cup?  I decided to go with the diet version and use the 8 tablespoons.  I put that in the pot of water and dashed in a couple of grinds of pepper.

     While that was going on, I measured out my dough and started googling how to grill a duck breast.  I found very few recipes for grilling.  I settled on a recipe that called for marinating the breasts for about an hour in a mixture of lime, lime zest, Worcester sauce, soy sauce, and brown sugar after scoring the fat layer.
     I just started putting the breasts in the marinade, when I heard sizzling.  That's weird, I thought.  Maybe the citrus and the duck fat have some sort of chemical reaction that makes a sizzling noise.  Oh, NO!  It is the butter-water, boiling over onto my stove!  I am not sure how much of the liquid I lost, but it was a somewhat substantial amount.  However, since the amount of goo was in question from the beginning, I figured it wasn't really going to matter.
     Even with the amount that was left it seemed like an awful lot of liquid to go into just a measly cup and a quarter of flour, but I had never made a "Gougere" before, so what did I know?  After the liquid had cooled, I mixed in the flour.  It was very gooey at this point.  I looked over at the 5 eggs that I was now supposed to add in.  It got a lot gooey-er.  Maybe the Swiss cheese would firm it up some.  Nope.  Still the consistency of pancake batter, and it was A LOT of pancake batter. 
     The recipe cautioned against filling the "tins" too full.  How full was too full?  Especially if this giant vat of batter was supposed to only make 6 crusts.  I started filling the "tins".  I filled each muffin cup half way up.  I still had twice as much batter left.  I greased another muffin pan and started filling that halfway.  I still had quite a bit of batter left, so I decided to just fill them all the rest of the way up.  The recipe said that it will "puff up", but maybe it will puff up and then fall, creating a cup for the eggs.  I popped them in the oven.

     While those were baking, I started the grill and let it heat up for my duck breasts.  I turned on all burners and let it get heat up to an eyebrow-searing level.  Once it was there, I turned off all burners except one and placed the breasts on the part of the grill furthest away from the flame.  There was a nice, satisfactory sizzle the second they touched the grates.  I was hoping for that for a nice crisp fat layer.  I let them sizzle there for about 3 minutes before flipping them.  I checked after about four more minutes with my instant-read thermometer - 140 degrees.  I took them off and went in to check on my Gougere.

     I peeked into the oven, and saw that they had puffed up, all right.  They had doubled in size and formed little peaks like the giant muffins you get at Perkins.  I took them out of the oven, hoping against hope for the fall I had envisioned when I filled the pan.  They smelled wonderful!  Cheesy, warm, and buttery.  I couldn't help myself, I ripped one of those tops off and popped it into my mouth - I only needed six, anyway, right?  It was delicious!  Unfortunately, it wasn't fluffy.  There was no chance that these babies were going to go concave and provide a nice little basket for my eggs on Thursday.  I decided to let them cool, and I would give myself the next day to think about how to fix the situation.

     They smelled really good, though, and the little taste of them that I had awoke the beast.  I pried a couple out of the pan to add to my and Jeff's dinner for the evening.  There were twelve, and we (theoretically) only needed 6, right?  They were delicious!  A perfect accompaniment to Macaroni and Cheese.
     After we ate, I decided to make the sesame sauce as well, since I had the time.  This was going to be the sauce for my duck breast pizza.

       I poured everything into the Vitamix 5200 and let it whir.  Instead of  pouring this mixture into a fresh, clean sauce pan, I decided to go ahead and let it cook in the Vitamix.  The blades of the machine move so fast that it actually creates heat and cooks your ingredients (that is why you shouldn't try to make pie crust in the Vitamix).  It boiled in the machine, and came out glossy and thickened, just as prescribed in the recipe.

     I had some time to think about the "muffins", and by Thursday, I had decided that I would somehow rearrange them into my oval ramekins or au graten dishes.  When it came time to put my theory into practice, I wondered how that would come about.  I have these small round muffins, and I wanted to cut them in a way as to line these oval dishes.  My original thought was just to scoop out the center of the muffins and pour the egg and whatnot into the hole and cook it that way, but I was worried about the egg - it may take longer to cook, therefore hardening the yoke, and making them (in my mind) inedible.  I decided to slice them into three or four slices and line the oval as best I could.  It left gaps, and I was worried that the whites, when cracked into the oval, would ooze into those gaps and overcook and get rubbery.  I was able to push three slices into the bottom of the oval, one upright down the center, and 6 slices around the outside edge.

     Instead of chopping the ham and tossing on top, as the directions would have me do, I decided to leave the slices intact and line the "muffins" with them, creating a barrier against the gaps.  I sprinkled the diced tomatoes over the top of the ham, cracked an egg in each half of the oval, and sprinkled the cheese on top.  I put them in the oven and hoped for the best.

     I gave Gracie a slice of muffin to try.  She ate it and went on and on about how awesome it was and how she wanted another one.  I held her off, because I wasn't sure how many I would need, or whether we would need some extra in case the first batch failed horribly.

    The original directions indicated that 12 minutes would cook the egg perfectly without hardening the yoke.  After 12 minutes, the whites were still extremely jiggly - so much so that Jennifer and I could barely look at it.  We hit the timer for another 3 minutes and checked again.  Still jiggly.  Another 3 minutes.  Still jiggly.  Another 3 minutes - the whites stopped jiggling, but the yolks were almost solid.  Bummer.

     While we were futzing with the eggs, we had put the pizza crust on the grill and come back inside to blend our drink of the week.  I had pre-chopped the ingredients and measured them out.  Gracie saw the bowl of prunes - er, dried plums - and asked if she could try one.  Jennifer told her that she could have a whole one out of the original container, because the bowl of chopped fruit were pre-measured.  When Grace pulled one out of its original container, she scrunched up her nose.  She wasn't sure she wanted to eat something that looked like that.  She tried it anyway, the brave soul, and liked it.   She has a much more open mind than I did at her age.  If you had handed me a two-thumb-sized wrinkly black object and told me it was something good to eat, I would have promptly run away.

     I had made the sour for drink of the week the day before.  It didn't take nearly as many lemons and limes as the recipe indicated.  Jeff humored me when we were at the grocery store, and I told him I needed 8 lemons and 8 limes, but in all actuality, I only needed 4 of each to make a cup of juice from each.  Jennifer was in charge of the final mixture.  She hedged at adding the ice - don't want to water down the liquor, but she acquiesced, and we got some ice blended in.  It was sweet and tart and there was no evidence whatsoever that it contained any liquor.  Also, it was a lovely greenish color.  Roger took one sip and rejected it, but Jennifer and I thought it was lovely, and proceeded to down two blenders-full before the evening was done.

    I had thought that the kids wouldn't be interested in the shirred eggs, but I was wrong.  Gracie had whetted her appetite with the cheese-muffin and couldn't wait to try the final product.  She was interested in the entire procedure, asking me why I was building the little forts in the oval dishes, sampling the ham (which she declared was the BEST ham EVER), and repeating that she couldn't wait to try the final product.  Jonah wasn't interested at all until we brought them out to the table.  He was a little skeptical at first but asked to try Jennifer's.  He enjoyed that enough to ask for his own portion, which he finished (except for a few scraps of muffin that his parents stole off of his plate when he wasn't looking).  Gracie, however, was disappointed.  She did not care for it as much as she thought she would and picked at various components of the dish until she announced that she was done (at which time, her leftovers were scooped up by her mother).

     Even though the yolks were over-done, the final dish was delicious.  The yolks weren't quite solid, but they certainly weren't still liquid.  The cheese, the egg, the slightly gooey muffin made an omelet-type end product.  It was delicious!

     Once the pizza crust (over the flaming side of the grill) had puffed up and had gotten a nice grill-grid pattern on the one side, I flipped it over to the cool side of the grill and started assembling.  I spread the sauce around as well as I could.  We did lose some to the grill grate gods, but there was still plenty there.  Then, I arranged the duck, sprinkled on the plums and green onions, and covered the whole thing in cheese.

     Then, I closed the lid and enjoyed my company for a while until the top started to brown on the pizza.  The duck stayed tender and moist, and its creamy richness was counterbalanced by the salty sauce and the sweetness of the fruit.  I was surprised at how the plums sort of melted into the sauce and created a kind of Uber Sauce, and the provolone was the perfect match, texture-wise, to the velvety duck breast.  The flavor of the cheese was mild enough to bring out all of the elements of the pizza.  I think that if I HAD found the sharp provolone I was hoping for, it may have overpowered the other flavors.