Friday Nights and Psychotic Serial Killers
I love Friday nights. The excitement of the weekend coming and all the anticipated fun makes it the day of days, night of nights.
Pizza! Thin, crisp, crust with blackened edges, sweet yet tart tomato sauce, whole-milk mozzarella cheese scattered with sweet Italian sausage...yummy. Add in a frosty pitcher of beer and you have my most favorite Friday night fare.
Tonight we are going out for pizza to our neighborhood pizzeria. Yeah!
(We are not dining with Condoleezza, had to say this because those two z's in her name bother the hell out of me, as opposed to the two z's in pizza or pizzeria. The word pizzeria bothers me in that I don't care for its spelling...why the E and not an A? Condoleezza's name with the double e and the double z looks to the eye like the name of a psychotic serial killer.)
Stare at that name for 10 seconds and you can feel the mania inherent in the name. Your palms are probably beginning to sweat...keep looking at it...your heart beat is getting faster and faster...keep looking...you feel a tightness in your chest and your neck muscles start to quiver...okay you can stop looking at the name now.
......
We always order sausage pizza. A large one because they use the same size dough ball for either the small, medium or large pizza. If you like thin crust you have to order a large...if you like thick crust go for the small. One-size ball fits all.
Our local place has a most unusual waitress, she hates you the minute she meets you. No amount of tip will change her utter disgust in having to bring you your pizza and beer. No pleasant small talk will ever be exchanged and she wears one facial expression and one only: repugnance.
Why she loathes us I don't know. Oh, it's not just us, it's every single customer she has, and she is the owner's wife. You'd think she would realize that we repulsive, horrid, nasty pizza eaters are keeping her in bras, and if you saw her bazooms you'd realize that for her a bra is as essential to life as breathing.
She is not petite, but the protuberances in her chest area are the eighth wonder of the world. They come into a room about 10 minutes before the rest of her does. Her ass which is quite ample, is dwarfed by her humungous knockers, which untethered would have to reach all the way to the nether world.
She has one speed: low, to go with her one expression: hate.
Have your mind made up by the time she gets to your table, don't make small talk, speak clearly and slowly: One large sausage pizza and a pitcher of Bud lite please. Don't look her in the eye and don't for godssake ask a question or change your order. Don't ask her to bring the pitcher now, for you won't see it until after your whole pizza has been eaten. Don't smile at her, in fact just don't smile at all.
But, the pizza is just wonderful, so you put up with her. Once you learn the rules of behavior she won't punish you too severely. On a good day you might get the pitcher before the pizza, on a bad day, you might not get either until your ass is numb. But the pizza is really really wonderful, and cheap too.
I love Friday nights. The excitement of the weekend coming and all the anticipated fun makes it the day of days, night of nights.
Pizza! Thin, crisp, crust with blackened edges, sweet yet tart tomato sauce, whole-milk mozzarella cheese scattered with sweet Italian sausage...yummy. Add in a frosty pitcher of beer and you have my most favorite Friday night fare.
Tonight we are going out for pizza to our neighborhood pizzeria. Yeah!
(We are not dining with Condoleezza, had to say this because those two z's in her name bother the hell out of me, as opposed to the two z's in pizza or pizzeria. The word pizzeria bothers me in that I don't care for its spelling...why the E and not an A? Condoleezza's name with the double e and the double z looks to the eye like the name of a psychotic serial killer.)
Condoleezza
Stare at that name for 10 seconds and you can feel the mania inherent in the name. Your palms are probably beginning to sweat...keep looking at it...your heart beat is getting faster and faster...keep looking...you feel a tightness in your chest and your neck muscles start to quiver...okay you can stop looking at the name now.
......
We always order sausage pizza. A large one because they use the same size dough ball for either the small, medium or large pizza. If you like thin crust you have to order a large...if you like thick crust go for the small. One-size ball fits all.
Our local place has a most unusual waitress, she hates you the minute she meets you. No amount of tip will change her utter disgust in having to bring you your pizza and beer. No pleasant small talk will ever be exchanged and she wears one facial expression and one only: repugnance.
Why she loathes us I don't know. Oh, it's not just us, it's every single customer she has, and she is the owner's wife. You'd think she would realize that we repulsive, horrid, nasty pizza eaters are keeping her in bras, and if you saw her bazooms you'd realize that for her a bra is as essential to life as breathing.
She is not petite, but the protuberances in her chest area are the eighth wonder of the world. They come into a room about 10 minutes before the rest of her does. Her ass which is quite ample, is dwarfed by her humungous knockers, which untethered would have to reach all the way to the nether world.
She has one speed: low, to go with her one expression: hate.
Have your mind made up by the time she gets to your table, don't make small talk, speak clearly and slowly: One large sausage pizza and a pitcher of Bud lite please. Don't look her in the eye and don't for godssake ask a question or change your order. Don't ask her to bring the pitcher now, for you won't see it until after your whole pizza has been eaten. Don't smile at her, in fact just don't smile at all.
But, the pizza is just wonderful, so you put up with her. Once you learn the rules of behavior she won't punish you too severely. On a good day you might get the pitcher before the pizza, on a bad day, you might not get either until your ass is numb. But the pizza is really really wonderful, and cheap too.
posted by mary bishop | 3:56 PM
6 Comments:
Do you have any idea how hungry I am for pizza right now??
Darlene, I hope you went out for pizza last night! If not, there's always today. MB
Wow, you definitely have a talent for imagery! That reminds me of the falafel place not too far away from my college. It's filled with humorous warnings that the owner is really mean, not to expect a smile, and that he grumbles all the time... but true to the rest of the "threat", falafel is absolutely delicious! (falafel for me is what pizza is for you) Yumm... just melts in your mouth. OK, I'm seriously hungry now... Gotta go unfalafel unpizza undelicious cafeteria food!
If Condoleezza Rice was a type of risotto what would it contain?
Me? I like my pizza New Haven style or Bronx (No, not Arthur Ave, but Crosby Ave, Baby!!) I love Crosby Pizza or Louie and Ernie's because you can get a large (one size) pie with cheese and sausage and 2 Coors Lites for 15 dollars.
What's better than that?
BTW: What the heck is falafel. I've heard that Mamouns in New Haven is the best, but was afraid to check it out.
Falafel
This Middle Eastern snack is also known as ta’amia.
8 oz (225g) chick peas
1 onion, very finely chopped
1 garlic clove, crushed
1 slice of white bread, soaked in a little water
1/4 tsp. cayenne
1 tsp. coriander, ground
1 tsp. cumin, ground
2 tbsp parsley, finely chopped
salt, to taste
oil for frying
Soak the chick peas overnight.
Cover with plenty of fresh water and cook for 1 - 1 1/2 hours until tender.
Pound or blend the chick peas to a purée.
Squeeze out the bread and add to the chick peas together with the rest of the ingredients. Knead well for a few minutes.
Let the mixture rest for 1-2 hours, then roll between the palms into firm 1” balls. (Wetted hands make this easier).
Heat oil (at least 1 inch deep) in a pan to about 360° F, 180°C, and fry the balls, a few at a time, until nicely brown all over — about 2-3 minutes.
Drain and serve hot with lemon wedges.
I want some soon, they sound yummy.
In restaurants, the put falafel inside pita with lots of other stuff, and sauces, so it's really, really good - and stuffing!
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