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I wish I could show you what I’d like to show you on this auspicious occasion, but I can’t. Can’t even tell you why I can’t. It’s that crucial to the future of pie in Richmond. I will say that unless it’s a graham cracker crumb crust or the like, I don’t see the point of crust on and under pie. Not my thing.

Since it apparently is National Pie Day, I thought I’d be true to form for lunch and have my favorite thing–leftover homemade pizza. It also helped that we made a trio of pizza pies last night for dinner. BBQ Chicken w/ Caramelized Onions, Pesto w/ Chicken Sausage and a really good white pizza of my husband’s design with lots of stuff leftover from the other pizzas and mozzarella and such. Small pieces of the three, I swear.

Pizza Tonight Gluten free dough, FYI.

Pizza Tonight Gluten free dough, FYI.


In an unplanned pie day event, I ended up making a quiche. I use the ole Moosewood Cookbook recipe as my base and riff from there. It has never failed me though this one–in the oven now–certainly could. I used Swiss Cheese, sauteed onions and red pepper, added some leftover sage sausage that we had and, I’m embarrassed to say, pulled out some leftover greens from a container in the fridge and threw them on, too. I seem to recall their being a part of a meal in the not-too-distant past. Not sure what their mooshy-ness is going to add to the mess. Not to mention the mish-mash of flavors. Eggs and cheese cover a variety of mistakes.

Now and again it becomes painfully obvious that I shouldn’t be allowed around food. Or I shouldn’t be responsible for food that people expect to eat. Or I shouldn’t have dropped the lovingly hand-crafted gluten-free pizza dough that I had carefully topped with homemade pesto (not so lovingly prepared–more like panicked pesto since the basil took a turn for the worse after I got it from the South of the James Market), chicken, mozzarella, and tomato onto the oven floor.

Pizza from Aziza's is much better than mine, but you knew that already.

Good thing friends who like blackened chicken showed up soon after because we had some. Blackened oven, too. Blackened mozzarella just hasn’t caught on yet.

I could not get a job at Aziza’s, where Greg Boone makes some of my favorite pizza ever. Lucky for me, I’ll get to taste some next Saturday when we do our next Real Richmond Shockoe Bottom/Church Hill food tour. It works out much better for all concerned–especially the people eating–if I’m allowed around food only when talented people prepare and serve it. Otherwise things get a little messy.

I spilled milk every night of my childhood and though that isn’t a crying shame, I think it set the tone for my relationship with food and drink. I’m a kitchen clutz.

I’m back!