#Italian pizza flour

[petermorwood]

Our local Supervalu supermarket has a small but totally authentic Italian section, and @dduane bought this flour to try it out.

She prepared enough dough - once divided up - for three pizze, and the first one (Friday) was so remarkably good that it was half-consumed and thoroughly non-photogenic before either of us said "Pix...?"

So here are a couple of shots of what happened next (Saturday). Instead of pizza, Flammkuchen.

Dish from Alsace, recipe from Switzerland, flour from Italy, sour cream from Lithuania, smoked pork belly from Poland, onions from Ireland, cook from USA.

Today (Sunday) was pizza again, to finish the last ball of prepared dough, and it was nearly * as good as the first time.

This time, photos!

* Three days is enough for any one batch of dough, even when kept in the fridge. It no longer stretches as well, so this pizza crust didn't develop a nice puffy edge the way the first one did.

An insignificant niggle, noted for next time. Make and use immediately for best effect.

The imbalanced layout of the onions...

...is so DD can avoid eating too many and annoying her IBS.

So, onto the peel and into the oven (10 mins / 230°C).

Out of the oven...

...and into the diners.

Yum!

We're DEFINITELY going to buy more of that flour.

:->

[morethansalad]

Pizza Ebraica / Sweet Roman-Jewish “Pizza” (Vegan)

[levynite]

11am: I want pizza

2pm: mmmmmmm

[hiddenworldofmary]

it’s my one year anniversary of eating the last gluten pizza (and last intentionally gluten food) and in honour of that i recreated that pizza but made it gluten free and my god IT SLAPS

happy one year being gluten free to me 🥹🍕

[deanbottino]

Bread - Italian Pizza Dough No bread machine is needed for a yeast-risen pizza dough that's made the real Italian way.

[ollieloves2munch]

Detroit style pizza

[copperbadge]

This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: y/n pregnency!!

Grid Kids: Bun in the Oven

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: moments with the grid kids during your pregnancy

Series Masterlist

Kicking Up a Storm

“Did the little one just ...” Charles’ eyes widen as he pulls back his hand abruptly from where it had been resting on your stomach.

Lando, lounging on the other side of the room with a video game controller in hand, smirks, “Did what? Tried to escape? Can’t blame it, considering the rest of its siblings."

You swat playfully at Lando as Max and George, engrossed in assembling a nursery chair, look up in anticipation. “Come on, let us feel!” Max pleads, abandoning the chair pieces on the floor.

As everyone gathers around, taking turns to gently place their hands on your baby bump, you feel a flutter, a gentle kick responding to their touch. The room fills with gasps of wonder and joy.

“Feels like a future driver if you ask me,” George grins, looking at Sebastian, who chuckles, already imagining another Vettel on the tracks.

Lance, feeling a tad left out, decides to jump in. “Can it hear us? Hello in there, it’s your brother Lance! Remember to pick me as the fun brother, okay?��

Mick, who has been reading every pregnancy book he could get his hands on, chimes in, “You do realize the baby can’t differentiate voices yet, right?”

Lance waves him off, “Details, details.”

Cravings Are No Joke

“Pickles and chocolate? Seriously?” Max raises an eyebrow, holding up the two seemingly mismatched items as he stands in the middle of a grocery store aisle.

Lance, pushing the cart, shrugs. “Don’t question the cravings, just go with it.”

Charles, scrolling through the list on his phone, adds, “Oh and don’t forget the spicy ramen, blueberry pie, and ... pineapple pizza?”

George groans, “Pineapple pizza? Come on! Anything but that. I’m not even Italian and I’m still offended.”

Lando, with an impish grin, quips, “Remember when she wanted the mango gelato at 3 am? That was a fun drive.”

Mick chuckles, “Or the time we went to five different bakeries just to find that particular lemon cake she couldn’t live without.”

Lance pauses, looking thoughtful, “And wasn’t there a phase where she only wanted foods that were purple?”

George nods, “Yep, aubergines, purple potatoes, grapes ... I still can’t look at a plum without laughing.”

As the grid kids continue shopping, picking out items based on the rather diverse list you gave them, they share more anecdotes of the past months. The store’s other patrons watch in amusement as the young men navigate the aisles, often debating the merits of various brands or flavors, all to ensure they get it just right for you.

Later, back home, your grid kids proudly present their haul. You and Sebastian look on with affection as they lay out the eclectic mix of food.

“Did you guys get everything?” You ask, trying to hide your laughter.

Max feigns offense at being questioned, “Of course, we’re professionals.”

Sebastian leans in to whisper in your ear, “I’m just glad they didn’t try cooking this time. Remember the schnitzel incident?”

You giggle, recalling the disastrous attempt. “Of course I do. I was cleaning flour off the cabinets and ceiling for weeks. But hey, it’s the thought that counts.”

It’s a …

The preparations for your gender reveal are in full swing at the local park and your grid kids are at the heart of it. They’ve split into two factions: Team Girl, led by Charles and Lance, and Team Boy, spearheaded by Max and Lando.

Charles and Lance have laid out a series of pink challenges, including a three-legged race where participants wear pink tutus. “It’s going to be a girl, no doubt about it!” Lance proclaims confidently.

Max and Lando, on the other hand, have a blue-themed obstacle course, complete with a mini kart race. Lando, wearing a blue bandana, shouts over the ruckus, “I have no idea what you’re talking about because it’s definitely a boy.”

George has taken on the role of referee. Dressed in a striped shirt, whistle in hand, he’s ensuring that the competition remains friendly. “Remember, it’s all in good fun!” he reminds everyone, though his “Team Girl” badge suggests where his loyalties lie.

Mick, though undecided, has tie-dye patches of both blue and pink on his shirt. “I just want a healthy sibling for all of us,” he says with a gentle smile, standing back and enjoying the antics.

Sebastian, watching the chaos unfold, leans over and whispers in your ear, “Did we really think letting them plan this was a good idea?”

You laugh, “It’s a bit crazy but look at them. They’re having the time of their lives!”

The moment everyone’s been waiting for finally arrives. At the center of the park, a large, sealed box waits. As you and Sebastian approach, the grid kids form a circle around it, their playful banter coming to a halt.

With a shared look of excitement, you both pull on the ribbon. The box flaps open, releasing a cloud of ... green smoke?

The park erupts in a mixture of laughter and confusion.

Max looks baffled, “Green?”

Charles chuckles, “Guess neither team wins today!”

Lando, trying to waft away the smoke, jokes, “Alien? Oh my god, you’re having an alien!”

Mick wraps an arm around you, “Like I said, as long as it’s healthy.”

You smile, nestling into Sebastian’s side, “We thought we’d keep everyone guessing for a little longer.”

False Alarm

“Sebastian! The baby! I think it’s happening!” You exclaim, feeling a sudden tightening in your abdomen.

Sebastian, who was in the middle of mediating a lively debate with Max and Charles over who will be the baby’s favorite brother, nearly trips over the rug in his rush to get to you. “Okay, okay, okay. Deep breaths, in and out.”

Lance, eyes wide as saucers, frantically begins googling “how to deliver a baby” on his phone while George starts making a list of things needed for the hospital. “Towels! We need towels, right?”

Lando is somewhere on another planet, muttering to himself, “This isn’t happening. I am not ready to see a baby being born. Nope, nope, nope.”

Mick tries to restore some order. “Calm down everyone. Y/N, are you sure it’s really labor?"

Before you can respond, Charles bursts through the door, holding a bucket of ice. “I read somewhere you might need ice. Here!”

You laugh through the discomfort, appreciating the chaos ensuing because of your grid kids’ concern. "Actually guys, I think it’s just Braxton Hicks. False alarm.”

A collective sigh of relief sweeps the room. Sebastian, still slightly pale, pulls you into a hug, “You sure know how to keep things exciting.”

Lance looks up from his phone, “What’s Braxton Hicks?”

“It’s like a rehearsal for the real thing,” George explains, folding up his hastily made list.

Max, trying to regain his cool, smirks, “Well, if that was a rehearsal, the main event is going to be epic.”

You chuckle, patting your belly, “Guess the little one just wanted to see how quickly you all could jump into action.”

Putting the “Student” in “Student Drivers”

As you and Sebastian sit on the couch, going over your prenatal class schedule, a curious George peeks over. “What’s that? Are those the birthing classes?”

You nod, “Yep! We’re starting next week. It’ll help us prepare for the big day.”

Suddenly, Charles pops up beside George, eyes widening in interest. “Can we come?”

“That sounds cool! I’ve always wondered what those classes are like.” Lando chimes in from where he’s keeping an ear out in the kitchen.

Sebastian looks a bit overwhelmed, “I thought it was just going to be the two of us.”

Lance joins the group, scrolling through a magazine article about celebrity dads attending birthing classes. “Look at this! It’s a thing now. We could all go and support you both.”

Max adds, “Besides, we’re family. We’ve been there through everything else. Why not this?”

“Do they even allow so many people to join?” Mick ponders.

You can’t help but laugh at the eager faces in front of you. “I never thought I’d have to bring an entourage to a birthing class.”

Sebastian rubs his temples. “Okay, how about this? We’ll ask the instructor if it’s okay. If they allow it, you guys can join on one condition.”

Lando bounces on his toes, “What’s that?”

“No teasing or making jokes during the class. We’re there to learn and be supportive.”

Charles nudges Max, “That’s mainly directed at you.”

Max fakes innocence. “Me? I would never!”

You shake your head, “Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and see if our little ... or rather large group can attend.”

Your grid kids cheer, excited about the new adventure. As they scatter, already planning and discussing among themselves, Sebastian leans over to whisper in your ear, “This baby is already turning our world upside down and they’re not even here yet.”

You smile and squeeze his hand, “With this family, every moment is an adventure.”

***

The birthing center’s usual tranquil ambiance is slightly offset by the excited chatter of the grid kids as you all enter. The instructor, a calm and composed woman named Clara, raises an eyebrow at the large group but doesn’t comment. After all, it’s not every day that half of the Formula 1 grid walks into her class.

The session starts with everyone introducing themselves. Most couples share sweet stories of their relationship journey. When it's your turn, Sebastian starts, “I’m Sebastian, this is my wife, Y/N,” he pauses, motioning to the group, “and these are ... our sons.”

The room erupts in chuckles. One of the expectant mothers quips, “That’s a lot of kids! You two have been busy!”

Clara moves on with the class, demonstrating breathing techniques. Everyone’s earnest attempt to follow along results in a mix of deep breathing, snorts, and a few stifled laughs. At one point, Max, struggling to get the rhythm right, looks over at Lando and mutters, “I feel like I’m preparing to go underwater.”

When it comes time for practicing labor positions, the grid kids enthusiastically volunteer. George and Charles end up demonstrating a position, with George playing the supporting partner and Charles the laboring mom-to-be. The sight of Charles leaning into George, pretending to be in labor, has the room laughing, especially when Charles exaggerates with dramatic moans.

Lance and Mick take a turn next and when Lance offers words of encouragement to “pregnant” Mick, saying, “You’re doing great, sweetie,” you almost fall off your chair laughing.

Towards the end of the class, Clara demonstrates the use of a birthing ball. Lando decides to take a leap onto one only to bounce off, crashing into Max and sending both of them tumbling to the ground. The room is in stitches.

Despite their hilarious antics, your grid kids genuinely try to grasp the concepts, asking thoughtful questions and engaging in the exercises.

As the class wraps up, Clara approaches you with a smile. “I must say, this has been the most ... lively class I’ve ever taught.”

You grin, “That’s one way to put it.”

She chuckles, “But it’s clear they all care deeply for you and want to support you both in any way they can.”

Sebastian nods, wrapping an arm around you, “We’re very lucky to have them.”

For Real This Time

Lando and Charles are in the middle of a heated argument over the best way to make a sandwich (complete with props and charts) when you suddenly feel a warm sensation. Looking down, your eyes widen. “Uh, guys?”

“What is it?” Sebastian jumps up right away.

You swallow, “I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Then … mayhem.

Max yells, “To the car! Now!” while Lance scrambles to grab the pre-packed hospital bag.

George accidentally knocks over a vase in his attempt to find your phone. “Sorry! We can clean that up later, right?”

Mick tries to maintain calm, “Everyone, deep breaths, remember the class?”

Lando, eyes wide, mutters, “This is nothing like the class.”

Upon arriving at the hospital, the reception area becomes a scene of organized chaos. As Sebastian wheels you in, the grid kids follow in a flustered procession.

A nurse at the reception desk blinks in surprise. “Is there a convention in town?”

Mick, panting slightly, replies, “No, just family.”

Lando adds, “The biggest family you’ve ever seen.”

Another nurse, recognizing some of the faces, chuckles, “Formula 1 drivers in the maternity ward? Now I’ve seen everything.”

Inside, as the medical team preps you, the grid kids stand outside, pacing and nervously waiting. They take turns peeking through the small window, offering waves and thumbs-up.

Sebastian holds your hand and doesn’t complain once as you grab back hard enough to break every bone in it, “You know, I’ve faced pressure on the track but this ... this is on another level.”

You chuckle, squeezing his hand, “Just remember, I’m doing the hard part.”

Soon enough, after what feels like both a minute and a lifetime, the beautiful cry of your newborn fills the room. Your grid kids, hearing the sound, cheer loudly, causing several nurses to hush them.

Charles, tears in his eyes, says, “We’re big brothers now. Like, for real.”

“Wait,” Lando interjects, “aren’t you already a big brother?”

“Shush mate, let me have this moment.”

Max rolls his eyes but smiles, “Welcome to the family, little one. We’re a bit crazy but we already love you so much.”

[izzymissi]

Re8 Women cooking with their Partner HCs

Contains: Lady Dimitrescu, Donna Benevento, Cassandra Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Daniela Dimitrescu

ALCINA

-Alcina never steps foot in the kitchen... until one day, she decides to grace you with her presence. She towers over everything, moving with elegance but completely clueless about how to use half the utensils.

-"Darling, this wine is vintage, do you know how much it costs?" You try to convince her that it’s not necessary for your simple pasta dish. She insists on pouring it in anyway—while looking stunning, of course.

-At some point, she knocks over a frying pan and immediately blames the kitchen for being “too small” for her stature.

-If you even get near anything sharp or hot, she’s immediately by your side. "No, I will handle the knives. Do you think I’d let anything hurt my precious girl?" She dotes on you the entire time, constantly interrupting the cooking process with kisses on your forehead.

DONNA

-You thought you were being efficient by breaking the spaghetti in half. Donna gasps, then starts screaming in Italian, flailing a wooden spoon at you while Angie cackles from the counter

-Most of the time, Donna just quietly watches you cook, a soft smile on her face as she sneaks up behind you to hug you from the back. But the minute you make a mistake, she lets out a quiet "tsk" and fixes it herself, all while keeping her shy demeanor.

-She gives you a mysterious jar of herbs to add to the sauce, telling you it's a "family recipe." You're 90% sure they're from her greenhouse, but the taste is surprisingly delicious. "Told you it would work," she says with a wink.

BELA

-Bela is the type who follows recipes to the letter. Every ingredient is precisely measured, and she insists on cleaning up as you go. "We can’t cook in a mess, dear." You, on the other hand, prefer a more chaotic approach, much to her frustration.

-You both argue playfully over how much basil to put in the sauce. She’s convinced you’re adding too much, but when she tastes it, she begrudgingly admits, "Fine, it’s actually��� perfect."

-In between the playful bickering, Bela sneaks in soft kisses on your cheek while you’re stirring the sauce. You can feel her smile against your skin when she pulls away.

-At one point, she accidentally burns her tongue on a sauce sample. You laugh as she frantically drinks water, pouting at you for not warning her.

CASSANDRA

-Cassandra’s idea of "helping" in the kitchen is using her scythe to chop vegetables at lightning speed. "Look how fast I can do it!" she grins, but you wince at the chaos she leaves behind. A carrot or two ends up flying across the room.

-When you ask her to add a little spice to the dish, she dumps the whole jar of chili powder into the pot. "Too much? Babe, you’ll survive." Spoiler: You did not survive.

-Every time you try to concentrate on cooking, Cassandra playfully grabs you by the waist, spins you around, and kisses you passionately. "Why are you cooking when you could be kissing me?" She finally lets you get back to work after the fourth kiss.

-The kitchen catches fire for five seconds, and it’s absolutely Cassandra’s fault for leaving something unattended. But instead of panicking, she just laughs it off and says, "Well, looks like we’re ordering pizza tonight."

DANIELA

-Daniela wants to bake a dessert with you, but she ends up eating half of the cookie dough before it even goes in the oven. "What? I can’t help it!" she says with her mouth full.

-The kitchen is a disaster zone after cooking with Daniela. There’s flour everywhere—on you, on her, even in her hair. But she just laughs it off and smears some on your nose, playfully teasing you.

-While you're waiting for something to finish baking, Daniela takes the opportunity to start a tickle war, completely forgetting about the oven timer. The cookies end up overbaked, but neither of you cares because you’re too busy giggling and kissing on the floor.

-She sneaks little spoonfuls of everything you make, grinning like a child when you catch her. “I’m just making sure it’s not poisoned,” she says, though you both know she just can’t wait to try your cooking.

[fireandiceland]

Hetalia characters with dishes typical for their country - part 2 (part 1 here)

Spain: Paella de marisco (seafood paella) -> A surprisingly easy to make dish consisting of saffron infused rice with seafood. Other versions can also be made with meat from livestock (like the paella valenciana with chicken and rabbit) or be made vegetarian. The word "paella" is Valencian/Catalan and translates to "frying pan", the name of the dish originating from how it is traditionally cooked in a wide, shallow pan.

Prussia: Königsberger Klopse (königsberger dumplings) -> Named after the capital of East Prussia, these dumplings are made from minced vail, pork, or beef mixed with onions, eggs, and soaked white bread and cooked in saltwater. Some of the brewing water is then thickened into a sauce using roux, egg yolk and cream. It is traditionally served with boiled or mashed potatoes. Back then in Königsberg itself, the dish was known as Saure Klopse (sour dumplings).

South Italy: Pizza Margherita -> This flatbread made from leavened yeast dough topped with crushed tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and basil leaves. It is said to have earned it's name from appealing greatly to the Italian Queen Margherita when she tried the Neapolitan speciality, though newer reseach suggests that the name Margherita wasn't used until 40-50 years after the alleged incident.

Finland: Mustikkapiirakka (blueberry cake) -> Berries play a very important part in Finnish food culture, especially hand picked forest blueberries which are often turned into pastries and pies. A particularly popular pie is made with the pie crust eased into the tart tin with floured hands (not rolled out), then the blueberries and a custard filling are added and the cake baked until the top becomes golden-brown.

Sweden: Kannelbulle (cinnamon roll) -> Despite other Nordic countries claiming the invention of the sweet roll, very year on 4 October Sweden celebrates "Cinnamon Roll Day". A sheet of dough is covered in butter, sugar, and cinnamon, then rolled up and cut into the characteristic pieces. The are traditionlly baked in muffin wrappers and only dusted with sugar, they are lighter and less sweet than American cinnamon buns with icing.

Denmark: Flødeboller (cream puff) -> The fluffy, foamy inside of this treat is made from beaten egg whites mixed with sugar, dressed on a wafer and covered in chocolate. Often they are topped with coconut flakes, shredded almonds, or colourful sprinkles, making them a popular little "cake" for danish children to have for someone's birthday at school. They were first invented around 1800 in Denmark, but quickly became popular in France and Germany as well.

Norway: Kvæfjordkake (Kvæfjord cake) -> This sponge cake baked with meringue with almonds on top and then layered with vanilla or rum custard (sometimes mixed with whipped cream), is also dubbed the best cake in the world - Verdens beste. The name is based on the region it's inventer originates from. Starting in the 1930s as a variation of the kongekake ("king cake") with less almonds, as they were quite expensive, it is now a popular dessert for special celebrations.

Iceland: Rjómabollur (profiterole) -> A little sweet treat made from choux pastry filled with jam and whipped cream, the top dipped in chocolate and decorated with sprinkles. Traditionally, they are eaten on "Bun Day", the Monday before Ash Wednesday. Kids wake their parent up by smacking them with paper wands and every smack on the parent's bottom before their feet touch the ground translates into one bun which the parent owes to the child.

[elbiotipo]

Argentina pizza culture is interesting because it's a staple dinner for us, easy to make and cook. We buy pre-pizzas which are already made pizza bases and then you just put sauce and cheese on it, send it to the oven, and you're done. If you want actual pizzas with the base made from scratch you can do it yourself or go to a restaurant, and they sell flours for it too.

But there are some recognizable things about pizza in Argentina. The first is that homemade pizza sauce almost always carries onions, lots of them. In fact I call this the "pizza criolla" because it's the staple of Argentine pizza, it is not as common in restaurant or rotisería* pizza. Then you have the "pizza especial", which is just a normal pizza with ham slices and pickled peppers strips ('pickled' is relative term here, as you actually grab a fresh pepper, cut it, and put the strips on vinegar oil and salt). That's what makes it special. You can top it all off with shredded boiled egg.

As for cheese, we have muzzarella but for homemade pizza we often use "queso crema" which is NOT the cream cheese sold as a spreader. It's kind of muzzarella but more melty, almost like the spectrum between muzarella and cream cheese. It's a staple here too because we use it on all our foods. Interstingly I've heard it's actually the cheapest cheese, but I can't imagine living without it.

Well, as of types of pizza, we have Napolitana (with fresh tomato slices Calabresa (with salami, this is my favorite), probably both completely unrelated to their italian locations, and of course the very Argentine fugazetta wthich is just cheese and onions. We do like onions it seems. The regular pizza is called just a "muzarella". There is also pizza jardinera (with greens like spinach or green onion) and with palmitos which are... palmitos. Palmitos are palm cores which are extremely expensive now so it's almost an extinct kind of pizza to me.

*rotiserías are small fast-food places open at night which sell things such as pizza, burgers and empanadas plus a couple more things. Way cheaper and better than any big fast food chain. It also shows that Argentines always eat dinner late, as most rotiserías don't even OPEN until 20 PM.

[what-even-is-thiss]

european here (genuinely curious): in reference to your “american home-cooked food isn’t just fast food, it’s a lot like french/italian food” post, could you give some examples? I don’t know what foods are american home staples, but your post piqued my interest

Well stews and soups for one. When I read recipes for stuff like beef bourguignon it’s quite familiar to me. Less wine perhaps but the principles of the dish are similar.

Italian-American food often also makes for easy quick food on weeknights. Pasta is something that can be just as easy or complicated as you want. You can make it from scratch at every step or just make sauce from canned ingredients and boxed pasta. Tomato paste, flour, pasta, and dried herbs are staples in most kitchens. Pretty much every household has their own way of making pasta sauces.

Roasts are popular during the winter. Both roasted veggies and roasted meat. Potatoes are popular year round but in the summer things like potato salad or fries or bagged chips are more common than stewed, mashed, or boiled potatoes.

Americans commonly cook with butter and olive oil, though canola oil is cheaper. In recent years though there’s been health questions about canola oil and some people only use it for deep frying now.

French cream sauces are pretty similar to American white gravy which we make with cream instead of milk. We do also make white sauce too and will put it on most things. I find it especially good on pizza instead of red sauce. A lot of people also put it on pasta or vegetables.

A lot of the way we eat potatoes is pretty similar to some French dishes. What we call scalloped potatoes is very similar to a French dish called potatoes au gratin. Not identical, but extremely similar.

Stuff like French onion soup and duck a l’orange is also decently popular here even if not everyday food and are things you’d more commonly make yourself than buy from a restaraunt.

French style breads and pastries are also quite popular here. Baguettes are common things to cut up to eat with dip. Croissants with coffee are common things to eat for a small breakfast or an afternoon snack. French style breads both sweet and not are also common breads used for sandwiches. Italian style coffee is also more and more popular these days but that wasn’t true until relatively recently.

A lot of similarities really lie in the ingredients we use. We often cook things in butter for example. Or add flour to stews to thicken them. Or add milk to things. Or use wine to deglaze pans for the flavor.

A lot of home cooking in the US is affected by other immigrant populations. Tacos or curry are staples in my diet for example. But when you get down to more traditional comfort food it’s potatoes, cream sauces, stews, herbs, roasts, and pasta. Stuff that’s not identical to French or Italian cooking but is very heavily influenced by it.

TLDR: It’s butter!

[joeliz99]

A Taste of Italy- Joe Keery

Description: In a serendipitous turn of events, (Y/N) celebrates her birthday alone in Positano, only to find unexpected companionship and romance as she shares a day of cooking and exploring Positano's beauty with the charming Joe.

Warnings: None, Pure Fluff, Non-established relationship, RPF Fic

Word count: 2378

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The small, intimate kitchen was filled with laughter as (Y/N) stood uncomfortably in front of her designated table. Usually, she considered herself a social butterfly, but today, it felt like her social skills had been drained. She was still trying to get over the fact that her friend had missed their flight to Positano, Italy, after planning this whole day for so long. Instead, she found herself alone in a cooking class she had refused to cancel at the last minute.

The instructor, with a thick Italian accent, provided an overview of the class. Almost every ingredient was laid out in front of her, and a glass of wine stood invitingly on the table. She stared at it for a moment before taking a sip, savoring the various flavor notes on her tongue. As she was about to go for a second try, someone stood next to her, removing his sunglasses and fixing his messy hair while muttering an out-of-breath hello.

"I'm sorry. Do you mind if I station here?" the guy asked, noticing her glance.

"Oh, not at all. Make yourself comfortable," she replied with a smile as he put on his apron.

"Thank you. I almost didn’t make it, you know? The streets are so confusing around here. I’m still sweating," he said. (Y/N) genuinely laughed. He was a bit of a mess, but he didn’t seem to mind at all.

"You'll get used to it. Give it a day or two and you'll have them all memorized."

"Are you sure? I’ve been here for a week now. I think I'm past that point," he replied with a grin, his sunburned cheeks now making complete sense.

(Y/N) was about to respond when the instructor’s voice filled the space once again. It was time to learn about Italian cuisine. Soon, the small kitchen was filled with low lounge music and the aroma of homemade sauces mingled with aromatic herbs and light chatter. Joe and (Y/N) worked on their pasta, each having a different experience. While (Y/N) had a natural gift for cooking, Joe struggled to knead the flour and ingredients into a smooth ball. (Y/N) glanced over frequently, almost wanting to help, seeing him with flour on his face, his hair messier than before, and a funny frown of concentration.

"Um... Mind if I help?" she asked after a moment. He looked up, noticing she was about to cut her dough, and nodded sheepishly. "It’s easier if you use your knuckles and press down. I don't know the logistics, but it works." She moved closer and demonstrated. "See?"

"Uhh... Yeah. Let me try," he said, taking over the job again. "How do I keep it from being clumpy?"

"Just keep kneading. It’ll come together soon."

They continued working with concentration, engaging in constant chatter while flattening the pasta, cutting it, and spiraling it into balls to cook in the boiling water.

"I'm going to need another glass of wine at this rate," Joe exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips dramatically. (Y/N) laughed, shaking her head as she took both empty glasses and walked over to the counter to refill them. He smiled excitedly and thanked her as she handed him a glass, and she took a sip from hers.

"I'm Joe, by the way. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand for a formal greeting, regretting it almost immediately when he noticed his hand was covered in flour. However, (Y/N) smiled and shook his hand without hesitation, her own hand looking nearly as floury.

"(Y/N), pleasure to meet you."

Joe took a sip of his wine and leaned against the counter, glancing at the bubbling pot. "So, if I don’t mess this up, maybe I’ll actually be able to cook this at home. Though, I’ll probably end up with takeout pizza instead."

(Y/N) smiled, swirling her own glass. "Pasta’s easier than it looks. If you can navigate a new country solo, this should be a walk in the park."

"Who said I was traveling alone, though?" Joe's teasing made (Y/N) blink in surprise, feeling her face flush with embarrassment as his laugh and friendly tap on her arm made the situation worse. "I’m just joking. You’re right, though. But you’re giving me too much credit. I almost burned my kitchen down trying to make toast once."

"Toast? That’s impressive," she teased, trying to regain her composure. "I think you might be in the wrong class."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, everyone has their talents. That’s exactly why I’m here. My life motto is: When in Italy, be a new man."

"Oh my God," (Y/N) muttered, rolling her eyes with a smile as they noticed it was time to finish and assemble their first plate of pasta.

Everyone had the chance to plate their pasta, adding homemade sauces, grating some cheese, and sitting down to enjoy their creations while listening to local music and comedic stories from the chef.

Joe and (Y/N) sat together, savoring every bite of their simple yet satisfying meal. It felt like an explosion of flavors, enhanced by good company and an amazing ambiance. After such a delightful meal came (Y/N)’s most awaited part: Tiramisu.

Joe noticed the happiness on her face as she helped the chef assemble the dessert, having been pushed to volunteer. Tiramisu was her favorite dessert. After a fantastic demonstration, they all tasted the chef’s recipe, and Joe smiled widely seeing (Y/N) enjoy every bite with her eyes closed and muttering praises.

"Amazing, right?" he asked.

"Every time I come to Italy, I need to eat like a thousand of these. No questions asked," she replied with a satisfied grin.

"So, you're a regular traveler of these parts? Lucky girl."

"Not really," she said with a shrug. "I wish. But who has the money to come here often?" She laughed softly, unaware of Joe’s thoughtful expression. "It’s my second time, actually. Last time I spent two weeks traveling around Italy. One of the best experiences ever. This time is kind of different."

He leaned in slightly, intrigued. "Special occasion, or just a much-needed getaway?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, then sighed with a sheepish smile. "Well… It’s actually my birthday today."

Joe’s eyes widened. "Wait, what? Your birthday?" His voice was full of surprise and warmth. "And you’re spending it here, in a cooking class?"

"Yeah, well… I actually love cooking," she chuckled. "My friend was supposed to be here, but she missed her flight. So, I’m making the most of it on my own."

"Well, happy birthday!" Joe said, lifting his wine glass in an impromptu toast. "You should’ve told me earlier! We could’ve made this a full-on celebration!"

(Y/N) laughed softly, clinking her glass against his. "It’s no big deal. Honestly, the day has been fun enough. And the food makes it worth it."

Joe looked at her with a lingering smile, as if something clicked in his mind. After the class finished, the two stood outside the small, rustic kitchen, the sun starting to dip behind the cliffs of Positano, casting golden hues across the town.

"Well, this was fun," (Y/N) said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks for being such good company, Joe. I hope you have the best time for the rest of your stay."

"Yeah, same to you. Take care, (Y/N)..." he replied, but as she turned to leave, something tugged at him. He hesitated, watching her walk a few steps away, before suddenly calling out, "Hey, wait!"

She turned, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"

Joe took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. "I was just thinking… You shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone. I mean, not if you don’t want to."

(Y/N) tilted her head, intrigued. "What are you suggesting?"

He smiled, a little shyly at first but then with more confidence. "Why don’t we spend the rest of the day together? I know a few places around here that will make this a day you won’t forget. We can grab drinks, maybe hit the beach, whatever you want." He paused, looking sincere. "I promise you won’t regret it."

(Y/N) blinked, taken aback by his offer but touched by his spontaneity. She felt her hesitation melt away as she smiled and nodded. "Okay, so... lead the way."

They began their afternoon by renting bikes to explore the charming streets of Positano. As they pedaled through the winding roads, the vibrant, stacked houses and stunning water views unfolded around them. The town’s narrow streets were a delightful maze, with antique cars parked along the curbs and locals strolling leisurely.

(Y/N) found herself wobbling a bit on the bike, struggling with the numerous curves and inclines. She tried to hide her clumsiness, but Joe noticed her occasional near-falls. “Having a bit of trouble there?” he teased with a grin.

“Not at all,” (Y/N) replied, though her tight grip on the handlebars gave away her struggle. “I’m having the best time of my life.”

Joe chuckled, adjusting his pace to stay beside her. “You’re doing great!”

Their banter continued as they cycled past picturesque scenes and lively street vendors. The vibrant energy of Positano made their exploration both exhilarating and memorable.

After a while, they parked their bikes and walked along the beach, where she eagerly began collecting seashells. Joe watched her with an amused smile, noting her focused effort. “Is this something you always do?” he asked.

(Y/N) looked up, a handful of colorful shells in her hands. “Only sometimes. I’m kind of amazed by everything that comes from the ocean. So... yeah. Something special to have with me.”

Joe nodded. “Let me help you then.”

They finally arrived at a beachside café, the sun beginning to dip, casting a warm, golden light over the scene. Joe and (Y/N) found a quaint spot where local musicians played lively tunes. They settled at a table with refreshing drinks, taking in the ambiance and the stunning view. As the music gradually picked up its tempo, Joe couldn’t resist doing what was on his mind.

With a playful grin, he extended his hand to (Y/N). “Care to join me?”

At first, (Y/N) hesitated, but his infectious enthusiasm and the cheerful music coaxed her into the small open space in front of the café. As they danced, the rhythm carried them into a joyful, carefree moment. Joe attempted to teach (Y/N) a few dance steps, and she couldn’t help but tease him about his “unique” moves. Their laughter and playful banter filled the air.

As the music slowed, they found themselves in a quieter, more intimate moment. They exchanged stares filled with unspoken understanding, their connection deepening in the soft glow of the setting sun. It was a silent acknowledgment of the bond they were forming.

After their dance, Joe suggested they head to a secluded restaurant he knew about. Tucked away from the bustling tourist spots, it offered a cozy atmosphere with a stunning view of Positano’s twinkling lights. They enjoyed a delectable meal, and their conversation flowed effortlessly. Their genuine interest and attentiveness created a deeper connection as they discussed favorite foods, travel experiences, and personal aspirations.

“So, what kind of cake would you like for your birthday?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.

(Y/N) laughed softly, shaking her head. “Actually, I’m not much of a cake person. Gelato’s more my style.”

Joe’s face lit up with a bright grin. “Perfect! Then we’ll do gelato.”

Following dinner, he led (Y/N) to a charming gelato shop renowned for its rich and colorful flavors. As they entered, they both ordered their own cones with an assortment of flavors. With a playful flair, Joe thanked the cashier and turned to begin singing “Happy Birthday” in an endearingly off-key voice. Patrons in the shop glanced over with amused smiles as (Y/N) looked on, touched by the effort and attention.

With their gelato cones still in hand, they took a final, peaceful stroll along the same streets they had explored earlier. When they arrived at (Y/N)’s BnB, the moonlight bathed the entrance in a soft glow. They stood there, the tranquil night around them creating a serene backdrop. Joe took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on (Y/N) as he hesitated.

After a moment, he leaned in slightly, his eyes searching hers. The warmth of their shared day seemed to wrap around them like a blanket. Joe's hand gently grazed (Y/N)’s cheek, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her face. His touch was soft and tentative, savoring every second of their close proximity.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I know this will sound somewhat crazy, but... I was wondering...” He hesitated again, his hand moving to rest on her waist, pulling her just a fraction closer.

(Y/N) could feel her heart racing as she looked up at him. The intensity in his eyes matched the tenderness of his touch. “Wondering about what?” she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe took another deep breath, his gaze roaming over her features—her eyes, her lips, the way the moonlight made her skin glow. “If maybe... we could do this again again sometime. Go out, explore more together.”

There was a charged silence as they both felt the weight of his words. Joe’s fingers lingered at her waist, his thumb gently brushing her hip. (Y/N) could see the hope and earnestness in his eyes, and she found herself drawn closer to him.

Finally, (Y/N) smiled, her eyes softening. “I’d like that very much.”

Joe’s smile widened, and he leaned in, closing the remaining distance between them. His hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her delicate jawline and placing finally his hand on her neck. Their kiss was soft and tender, an intimate connection heightened by the serene surroundings. The world seemed to fall away as they shared that perfect moment, each touch and caress magnified by the gentle moonlight.

As they pulled back, Joe looked at (Y/N) with a hopeful smile. “So, tomorrow sounds good?”

(Y/N) laughed softly, her heart full. “Yes, definitely.”

They parted with a warm, lingering hug, both feeling that this birthday had become a day to remember, filled with new beginnings and the promise of more to come.

[acidicteardrop]

low cal high protein pizza recipe!

ingredients:

for the dough:

1 1/2 cup + 1 tbsp all purpose flour

1 cup plain greek yogurt

1 tsp baking powder

pinch of salt

seasonings (optional)

for the toppings:

1/2 cup pizza sauce (homemade or store bought)

1 3/4 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

1/2 cup pizza blend cheese

1/2 trader joe’s spicy italian chicken sausage

couple baby bella mushrooms

any toppings you like on pizza!

instructions:

preheat oven to 400°f / 200°c

line baking sheet with aluminum foil or parchment paper & spray w cooking spray

put flour (not the tbsp save that), baking powder, salt, & seasonings in bowl & mix

add greek yogurt and stir

once mix gets more incorporated, dust counter w tbsp of flour & knead dough into ball

stretch dough out and place on baking sheet

spread pizza sauce & cover with cheese and toppings

bake for 20 mins

slice & enjoy!

feel free to adjust toppings to your liking! use more or less & get creative! my version came out to around 138 cal / slice!

[hannahssimblr]

I watch the clock above the whiteboard as the minute hand inches closer and closer to twelve. Four seconds, three seconds, two seconds…

It’s five. My chair scrapes against the linoleum and I start running. Past Mr. Doherty’s desk, out the door, into the hallway, down the stairs, damn it why is this school so big? Another hallway, a foyer, the front entrance… 

“Don’t forget to sign out!” The secretary calls after me and I huff and turn back around, yanking my student ID card out of my pocket and slamming it into the sign-in machine, and then I hurry out, down the steps, out the gate and onto the rush hour Clontarf streets. 

The air is like daggers on my face and my school bag is weighed with a ton of books. My stupid trousers and my stupid blazer are slowing me down too, as is having to wait for the stupid green man at the stupid pedestrian crossing. I don’t bother in the end, I just swerve through traffic and give the woman in the SUV who blows her horn at me the middle finger. 

The house is so far up the Howth Road that it might as well be in Killester, and I sprint the whole way with my bag jostling, as commuters alighting the buses onto the darkened winter streets glance at me with dull surprise as I thunder past them and shove through the gates of a little enclave community of Georgian houses concealed from the road. 

I knock on the door of number two.

“Oh, we thought you’d forgotten about us,” Ivy’s piano teacher looks rightfully perturbed when she answers.

I have to cling onto the doorframe and catch my breath, “I’m so sorry, they made me stay behind at school.”

“It’s ten past five, her lesson ended forty minutes ago. I had her sitting in for the entire duration of the lesson after hers.”

“I know, I know,” I wheeze, “Is she okay?”

“Well she’s a little upset,” She goes through the hallway door to retrieve my teary eyed sister from the practice room. “We thought you forgot about her, actually I tried to phone you several times…”

“Ivy…” I hold my hand out to her and she regards me with a furious clenched jaw and a hot, teary face. She fists her hands into my blazer and shoves her face into it so that her teacher won’t see her crying and I just lamely pat her shoulder in apology. “Um, well, I’ll pay you the money anyway, I’ll give you double for the trouble…”

“No, just the usual is fine.” Her teacher says with pursed lips, “These things happen but just know I’m on a schedule, and I’m not a babysitter…”

“I know, again, I’m so sorry. Thank you for looking after her, I… it won’t happen again. I’ll be on time next week.”

“I’m certain you will.”

Ivy tries to make me carry her home on my back as reparations, but I beg her for mercy after two minutes because she is not three and tiny anymore, my bag weighs as much as her and I’m still so gruesomely hungover that I’m not sure how far I can even carry my own body without needing to crumple up in a heap on the ground. She’s merciful today and lets me away with it, possibly because she can tell I’m off, but she doesn’t let me forget what I put her through. 

“I want you to make me pizza tonight,” she demands, “With pepperoni, and not chorizo like you got last time, it’s not the same. I want pepperoni. And do you remember that time you got that packet of it with spicy pepper around the outside? Well I don’t want that either.”

“Uh huh, how about you give me a break?”

“You left me at my piano lesson!”

“Yeah, I recall.”

She peers up at me, “Are you sick? You look horrible.”

“Thanks for that. Yeah, I am. I think I ate something funny.”

“Oh…” She looks troubled, “Well can you still make me pizza?”

The idea of going through the effort of the flour and the dough and the tomato sauce makes me feel slightly faint, “How about I buy you a pizza instead? Yeah? And I don’t mean a frozen one from the supermarket, I mean one from the Italian pizzeria down in the village.”

She gasps. 

“But you have to eat it in the restaurant. We’re not bringing it home and getting caught out by leaving the box in the bin. And when mom and dad get home later on you can tell them that I made you something healthy for dinner instead.”

“You’re a liar,” She says with a sly smile that creeps up her face, “We’re both liars.”

“Yeah, dead right. It pays off.”

“I’m still upset about the piano lesson.”

I muss up her hair, “No you’re not, shut up.”

“Uh huh! I am. When we get to the restaurant I might need a milkshake too.”

“You’re pushing it, Ivy, you can’t push me…”

“I can,” she shrugs, and it’s a fact so undeniable that all I can do is laugh. 

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that milkshake when we get there.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[forkfulofflavor]

Ultimate Loaded Pizza Bake This hearty casserole combines all your favorite pizza toppings in a deliciously layered dish that's perfect for a family dinner or game day. Ingredients: 1 lb lean ground beef 1 lb sausage mild or spicy, as preferred 1 cup chopped pepperoni 1/4 cup all-purpose flour 4 tsp Italian seasoning, divided 1 26-oz jar tomato basil pasta sauce 2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese 1 13.8-oz can refrigerated pizza crust dough 1 Tbsp olive oil 3 Tbsp grated Parmesan cheese Instructions: Prepare the Meat Mixture: In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the ground beef and sausage until browned and fully cooked, about 7-8 minutes. Drain any excess fat. Add Seasoning and Pepperoni: Add 2 teaspoons of Italian seasoning and stir in the chopped pepperoni. Sprinkle the flour over the mixture, stirring to coat the meat evenly. Add Sauce and Simmer: Pour in the tomato basil pasta sauce, stirring well to combine. Let the mixture simmer for 5 minutes until it thickens slightly. Remove from heat. Assemble the Casserole: Preheat the oven to 400F (200C). In a 9x13-inch baking dish, layer the meat sauce on the bottom. Sprinkle 1 1/2 cups of mozzarella cheese over the meat mixture. Add the Pizza Crust: Unroll the refrigerated pizza crust dough and lay it over the cheese, stretching to fit the baking dish. Brush the top of the dough with olive oil and sprinkle with the remaining 2 teaspoons of Italian seasoning. Bake and Add Cheese Topping: Bake the casserole for 12-15 minutes until the crust is golden brown. Remove from the oven, sprinkle the remaining mozzarella and Parmesan cheese over the top, and bake for another 5 minutes or until the cheese is melted and bubbly. Serve: Let the casserole cool for a few minutes before serving. Cut into squares and enjoy this deliciously hearty, pizza-inspired bake!