I have a bit of a confession to make. I don’t love to cook on the weekends, especially Sunday. I’m not exactly sure what it is, maybe because it’s the weekend and I would rather play with my family than hang in the kitchen? Or the fact that I just get a bit too relaxed to want to think about what to make for supper? Probably a bit of both. What this often leads to is cleaning up leftovers, having sandwiches and one meal of take out from one of our favorite restaurants.
This weekend I had a plan for Sunday night. It involved the latest installment of the Food Matters Project…whole wheat pizza dough. You see, pizza is a bit of a favorite around our house so I knew that everyone would be pleased with my answer to the frequent question of what’s for dinner? The only thing they like better than pizza is grilled pizza, so I decided why not just do that too?
With a stash of crimini and button mushrooms in the produce drawer, just waiting to be used, I summoned my 10 year old to help me out. I gave him a lesson in a ‘rough chop’ and cut him loose. Soon after, my 6 year old came in wanting to help too. I assigned him cheese grating duty, a task he never turns down. Not to be left out my middle son soon came into the kitchen, curious to see what his brothers were up to. At the moment I didn’t have a job for him so he decided to assign himself the job of labeling the piles of cheese his brother had grated. Shortly after, he set to work rolling out the risen dough.
Our plan was for two pizzas. One with mushrooms sautéed in olive oil and garlic, a little fresh rosemary thrown in at the end. The second was the usual margarita version we all know and love.
I stood back and watched the scene unfolding in my kitchen as the boys worked away. They sampled the mushrooms, declaring them the ‘most delicious ever’, then took bites of cheese from the piles of fontina, mozzarella and parmesan. Collectively, they decided that the fontina should go on the mushroom pizza, using words like ‘creamy’ and ‘smooth’ to describe it’s flavor. I smiled quietly at the words of my food loving children. Critical cheese decision made, they returned to their assigned tasks, flour flying as dough was rolled, cheese falling to the floor for our puppy to clean up.
Jobs completed and pizza on the grill the boys ran outside for a quick game of backyard football before supper. I surveyed the disaster that was my kitchen. It was the most beautiful mess.
I may have to start cooking on Sundays more often.