Sorry for the cliched italian stereotype but I made homemade pizza today for the first time!
The summer after my freshman year in college, I went back home to live with my folks. They were fine with that but my mom insisted that I get a job. I worked for the high school the previous summer but they only hired recently graduated seniors so I had to look out of town for a job. I applied and was hired at Valentinos Italian Restaurant in North Platte as a prep cook. I had to get up at 4am, drive 45 miles to North Platte so I could start sometime between 5:30-6. I worked for 10 hour shifts, preparing italian food in a small back room with a scary guy with numerous tattoes who talked about being born again a lot. My only link to the outside work was a radio tuned eternally to a country station. I got one break, for fifteen minutes but I was told I couldn't go anywhere because I was on the clock and I couldn't bring any food in because it would be "outside food contamination." They told me I could have the buffet food if I got to it between when the buffet got broken down and when it got thrown away. Yes, it was highly illegal but I was young and naive. I lasted for three days. It rained all three days too. When I quit, I swear that angels parted the clouds, the sun finally shone and I could hear harps.
Despite the bad association, I quite enjoyed cooking my pizza today. It didn't turn out the best. I could have worked the dough better. Still it was a respectable first attempt. Well, a first attempt on my own terms anyway.
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