pizza

Do I Need This Conversation?

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La Flor Series Episode 1

“What’s today’s topic, Ray. More nonsense?”

“Do I need to have this conversation now?”

“I can’t think of a better time, Ray. What about the meal you cooked last night? Sorry, you tossed it and sent out for pizza. Watch the waistline buddy. Pizza straight from the lips to the hips.”

“It was only a twelve-inch pizza with mushrooms, peppers, and onions.”

“I noticed you were scrapping the extra cheese off the box at the end.”

“It’s a guy thing. We don’t like to waste.”

“What about your secret admirer?”

“I don’t have a secret admirer. What are you talking about?”

“I know you don’t have a secret admirer, but you’d like one, right?”

“No. Are we through?”

“We haven’t started. You still don’t have an idea for today’s blog. Do I have to do all your thinking? Look at the data. I give you an idea, you get lots of views. You toss my ideas out and no one shows. Tell you something?”

“Yes, it tells me something. I’m asking myself why I created you. You have an acerbic tongue, an attitude that needs a lot of re-writing, and …”

“Don’t go there.”

“Where?”

“There, you know where. Let’s have a conversation about my character. Your audience doesn’t know if I am male or female. I don’t have a name? I don’t have a description. I exist at your beck and call as an anonymous student, oh give me a break. Couldn’t you be a tad more creative?”

“I was having an off day.”

“You can have an off day. If I have an off day. I’m written out of the script. That’s another thing I want to clear up, I want a job description.”

“Next thing I know you’ll want to unionize.”

“You bring in any more characters, I’m on it. We’ll go strike if you don’t meet our demands.”

“Listen to yourself. You don’t have a name. You’re genderless. And, you’re a figment of my imagination. You only have the demands I let you have.”

“You are so difficult to have a simple conversation to try to come to common understandings.”

“Okay. What gender do you want?”

“I’ve given it thought. I want to be a woman with an attitude.”

“Great. I’ll introduce you to my five daughters, they’ll give you lessons.”

“They already have, and all six of us are on to your games.”

“Huuh?”

“We’re making progress, Ray. Perhaps a reader will suggest a name for me. It’s obvious your name generating creativity is in the slow lane.”

 

 

 

Working through differences is hard work. It takes a willingness to set aside differences. It takes a willingness to listen and learn. It takes a willingness to see with a new set of eyes. The effort to work together to achieve mutually beneficial solutions always creates a better future.

The Tomato Heist & Really Tough Love

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Joey Giamano’s dad owned Giamano’s Pizza and Bar. A warehouse separated Giamano’s Pizza and Bar from the tenement building where I lived. You’re probably wondering where is Ray going with this boyhood story – you in the last row, turn your iPad off, quit staring at your iPhone.

It’s Joey’s story. Joey and I are the same age – that is, if Joey’s alive. Chances 60-40 Joey’s not with us any longer. Joey never went by Joey. He was always Joey G. I believe he started using Joey G because he couldn’t spell his last name. He told me once, it had too many vowels. He goes, “You know it like the stuff that makes you go to the bathroom.”

I said, “You’re talking bowels or vowels?”

Joey G said, “Bowels, vowels it’s all the same.”

Now you must be getting an inkling of Joey’s intellect.

Here’s where it started to go wrong for Joey. My salvation was the grace of God and a dad who, after he gave me tough love (that’s what they call it these days); except it wasn’t the kind of tough love they talk about these days. It was really, really, really tough love. Lesson delivered. Lesson received. Oh my, was it ever received. I think it still hurts.

One lazy July afternoon, Joey and I were tossing rocks at a telephone poll in front of Giamano’s Pizza & Bar – this is what kids did before the Internet. It was harmless fun until a rock accidentally hit a passing car. Throwing rocks helped me to … did you think I was going to say become a pitcher? No, they help me to think that there had to be more to life.

Well, Joey G’s dad, Rocco Giamano, opens the door. I never saw Rocco without a full white apron with sauce stains. He calls Joey G, and said, “Joey G, we’re running short of fresh tomatoes. I want you to go to the store (it was 50 yards down the street) and get me a basket full. Tell the Beak to put it on my tab.” The Beak was Aldo

He calls to Joey G, “Joey G, we’re running short of fresh tomatoes. I want you to go to the store (it was 50 yards down the street) and get me a basket full. Tell the Beak to put it on my tab.” The Beak was Aldo

The Beak was Aldo Mangi. We all had big noses, but Aldo’s nose was something else. Hence, he got the nickname, The Beak.

Joey G said, “Pop, Aldo is way over there (Joey’s pointing at Aldo’s store). I’m in the middle of a game with Ray. Can it wait?”

Rocco wiped his pizza sauce hands on his apron and said, “You don’t get your bleep moving (only he didn’t say bleep) I”m gonna kick a field goal and you find yourself landing at the Beaks.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Can I take Ray?”

“I don’t care if you take Goldilocks, get me my tomatoes.”

Joey G turns to me, “Listen up. We’re going steal Aldo’s tomatoes from his garden in back of his store. He won’t miss anything.”

“I don’t know Joey G.”

“You chicken or something?”

That did it for me in those days. You could live with most things, but being called chicken was not one of the things you could live with. I agreed to go on the tomato heist.

We snuck into Larry Z’s garden. The problem is that Aldo is not in the store. He is in the garden. I said to Joey G, “We got to leave before Aldo sees us.”

Joey G doesn’t say anything. He grabs three ripe tomatoes and starts throwing them at Aldo. One of them catches Aldo smack on his clean white shirt. Joey G, throws the fourth one and takes off. Aldo runs after him only stopping after he spots me on the ground. He grabs hold of me and marches me home. He and my dad talked. They shook hands. I do not want to go into the details of tough love. Let’s say, I could no longer pal around with Joey G. Joey G was no longer welcome in the house.

Joey G was in juvenile detention when I graduated from high school. He got out when I enlisted in the army. He was in the state prison when I graduated from college. That’s the last I heard about him. The moral of the story is don’t toss ripe tomatoes at Aldo. Hey, that’s the best I could come up with on one cup of coffee.

I’m grateful for parents who made me walk a straight line. Grateful they knew who was a good influence on me and who was a bad influence on me. And, I am grateful after receiving tough love, I still felt loved.

 

Ray’s Recipe – Fixing a Food Disaster

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I go on Pinterest and find recipe’s I like. I save them under healthy recipes, slow cooker recipes, fun foods. It’s all good. When I click on on a food photo it takes me to the author’s page and I read about another great, easy to cook meal. What I never read is someone saying, this recipe is a disaster. Toss it, start over, I punked yah. No, it’s all good, all the time. No mistakes. In baseball lingo, a perfect game, no runs, no hits, no errors, no one reaches first base.

The way I see it, A disaster meal has side benefits. Maybe you have someone coming for dinner and you never want them to come again – today’s recipe’s for you. Maybe you want to break up, don’t have the courage to say it, let your food do the talking with today’s recipe. Maybe you’re a masochist. If you are, making a meal like the one I am about the describe is going to make you feel terrible – that’s good, right?

My meal plan started out with a great idea. I’ll make an easy, healthy, low cleanup time meal. I’ll brag about it on my blog. Guy’s Grocery Games will invite me to compete. My great chef dreams went downhill faster than the Olympic bobsledding team.

“What did you do, Ray?” you ask.

Okay, I’ll make a clean breast of it. No, I didn’t cook chicken breasts. I wish I did. On a scale of ten, how easy is it to cook a chicken breast? I’d give it a 10 (this is the typical guy response for cooking any food – maybe I should have grilled this meal – I’m talking real guy talk now).

“What did you attempt to cook, Ray. You’re stalling. Spill the beans. Turn state’s evidence. Go into the witness protection program.”

I glad you didn’t mention waterboarding, an IRS audit, or being asked to eat raw eggs (how Silvester Stallone did it, I’ll never know).

Here’s what happened. I decided to make quinoa burgers (they were in a box in the freezer, precooked) Easy, right? Not. I cut up onion, a poblano and red pepper. I added mushrooms. I put my veggies in a pan coated with EVOO. What can go wrong? It’s all going along fine. The veggies are eighty percent done, I add the quinoa burgers.

The only thing that can go wrong is guy think. That’s right, guy think. I think I have enough time to wheel the trash container out to the curb, come back for the recycle containers and put them next to the trash container. Do I leave well enough alone? Oh no, two boys who live a street over walk by tossing a football. I hold up my arm. They flip it to me. I need to prove to them and myself I am Tom Brady’s backup. Five minutes later the light bulb goes off. No, not a light bulb, the smoke alarm. I run a fly pattern into the kitchen. I take the skillet out the back door. I hope no one called 911. Even the birds fly away. Any reader like charred veggies and two hard globs of quinoa?

911 for a food disaster. 1) always use a non-stick pan. 2) Open the windows – turn on all the fans. 3) Phone a friend, and tell your friend your buying dinner, in this case, pizza.

 

Ray’s Recipe for one: Pizza, the Perfect Food

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I have good friends in the UK and I owe them one! National Pizza Day was started in the UK. February 9th. I’ve already circled it on the calendar. I’ll make a pizza calendar. The new year beginning February 9.  I can’t help myself, I was weaned on pizza, meatballs, macaroni, spaghetti, pasta fagioli (to the uninitiated, bean soup), and hard crusty Italian bread. I grew up hearing my dad say pizza was the perfect food and the other Italian foods were a close second. I never dared tell my dad I doubted him, even when he was in his nineties.

You are already thinking Ray’s going to tell us how to make pizza. Wrong, I’m going to tell you how to make a kale salad. Whoa, slow down, only kidding. I hear my dad whistling from heaven. Kale move over, you’re not the perfect health food and take your friend’s broccoli, spinach, and edema with you. The perfect food is pizza. I’ve locked the doors, turned off the iPhone, no harassing calls from the health police or Whole Foods, por favor.

Pizza is the universal, speaks all languages food. It is the one food that can unite the world, contribute to world peace, and stop global warming. Okay, I’m a first-born Italian male and given to exaggeration. All kidding aside, I can’t stop kidding. I don’t want to tell you how many detentions I got in school, it wasn’t pretty. I thought they added an extra hour of the school day to honor me.

Think about pizza possibilities. My uncle Tony liked anchovies on his pizza. Uncle Carmen, sausage. Uncle Joe, pepperoni. My dad, hot peppers, and salami. Uncle Pete, olives and ground beef. A party night for the extended family was like eating at the UN. Go for it. Pour on any kind of meat you want, the more the better. Don’t forget to triple cheese it. Me? I eat healthily. I can see my dad rolling his eyes. I’m going to give you my great tasting, eat it every night of the week and take it for lunch pizza. You’ll develop a six-pack, be able to do one-armed pushups. And, beat the Ethiopians in the Boston Marathon. Hey, I told you I was prone to exaggeration.

The Basics. Every great pizza has two basic ingredients, the crust, and the sauce. Ray’s rule, make it easy, healthy, and tasty. The crust takes ten seconds. “Ten seconds, you say? Surely, you jest.” I hear you. That’s how long it takes me to cut open a package of Flatout flatbread. There are six in a pack. I eat two flatbread pizzas. Let’s see, I’ll use my iPhone and ask Siri. I’m talking to Siri. She’ patiently listening. I’m waiting for Siri.  She must be getting her nails done. Here she is, listen in, “Ray, you’ll have enough flatbread for three meals. Yum.” I say thanks to Siri. I have to talk to someone since I live alone.

I use the Flatout bread, it has extra protein and fiber, a healthy choice. I continue on the easy road. I line a pan with Reynolds Wrap non-stick aluminum foil. I saved a whole step. I’m on a roll. No, make that a pizza pan. The directions on the Flatout wrapper (I actually read the directions. Well, most of them. I stopped after I read, “Read the directions first.” It’s a guy thing. I put the flatbreads in an oven preheated to 380 for three minutes. In the meantime, I stir-fry my veggies. I said it’s going to be healthy. Toss out the vitamins. They’re going on my pizza.

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You got to love this combo. I have jalapenos, a poblano pepper, a red pepper, and onions. I use my EVOO to make it even healthier. I put the cover on the pan. I use crushed tomatoes as my sauce. I like the CIRIO brand. Why? The name ends in a vowel like mine. Really, the crushed tomatoes are awesome.They are non-GMO (Does that stand for Good Morning Oregon?). I use my crushed tomatoes to cover the flatbreads once I pull them out of the sauna (AKA oven). Once I cover the flatbreads with the tomatoes, the flatbreads go back in the sauna for another three minutes. I want the tomatoes hot. Siri does the countdown for me. When she gives me the ring, I pull the flatbreads out, add fresh-cut basil and my veggies. I cover the flatbreads with non-fat Kraft mozzarella cheese and sliced tomatoes. They’re ready to go back in the sauna to melt the cheese.

Another few minutes and I’m ready to party – party for one that is. There will be no prisoners for this meal.

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Ray’s Recipe: Joy of Pizza (Mexican, that is)

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I’m in the mood for pizza, Mexican pizza that is. If I were living in New York, I’d head down to Little Italy. If I were in Boston, off to the North End. I’m of Italian descent, pizza is a marked on my DNA. At least that’s what came back when I sent a sample of my saliva for DNA analysis to Tony’s Pizzeria. I live in San Antonio, I go with the local cuisine, which by the way is awesome. Maybe I’ll a plug from the Chamber of Commerce. Then again, maybe not.

Mexican Pizza is perfect for an easy, good tasting, healthy meal. Let’s start with easy. It’s as easy as uno, dos, tres. It’s Mexican pizza, right? It’s a requirement I count in Spanish. What can be easier than a can of Bush’s reduced sodium pinto beans?

Step by step if you read directions. If you’re a guy, just go with the photos and pretend you’re reading. That’s what I do.

  1. Hold can firmly in the right hand, insert the can into the electric can opener. Turn on the can opener. Remove can. Don’t forget to recycle the top and the can when rinsed.
  2. Drain the can – caution, don’t dump the beans out when you drain the can (this warning is for absently minded challenged people – did I get that politically correct?).
  3. Put the beans in a blender. If you need a bit of salt or pepper or other seasonings, this is the time. You don’t want to do it after the dance is over. Where did that metaphor come from? Too much iced tea at lunch I think.
  4. I turn the oven on to 380 – It takes a few minutes to heat up. At the same time, I have a poblano pepper, onion, and green pepper doing the salsa in the sizzling hot pan. I toss in a bit of red crushed pepper (guy speak, toss means unmeasured, looks good, go for it).

    5. I place two, high fiber, high protein, low calorie tortilla on a baking sheet. I baste them with EVOO and zip them in the oven for two and a half minutes. This step lets the tortillas know I mean business. No fooling around. It frijole time. I smooth my bean mix over the tortillas, artistic enough to be sold at a garage sale for fifty cents if you’re into tortilla ornaments. I pace sliced tomatoes around the edges of the tortillas, basically to cover up the spots I missed with the beans. There I go, spilling the beans. Forgive the lame joke, por favor. I stick the bean and tomato covered tortillas back in the oven for three minutes to get them good and hot. When I pull the pan out, I cover my tortillas with my poplano, onions, and green pepper mix. I add non-fat mozzarella from Kraft, and put the whole thing back into the oven. Now, it’s eyeballing time. I can’t watch ESPN. I can’t check my Twitter feed. I can’t text. Well, I can do all those things, and I can do them all at once. I can even use the remote at the same time. I force myself to keep a close eye on the oven. I know it’s ready when the cheese is perfectly melted. Now how hard is that? On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a 7. That gives me three spaces to play with.

    Finished product. I hide one pizza from view (it looks good BTW). Please take note of my guacamole (guacamole goes with everything even my oatmeal). If you make this meal, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and as much I did writing this post.

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