Checking the clock, I finally pull myself away from my book to check the dough. I’ve been trying read more, but my ebook of The Magician King was taking ages to read. I had the bad luck to put it aside just before the real action started, and as soon as I load it up on my iPad I’m sucked right in and having trouble walking away.
The dough I’m attending to is just like any other bread; water, flour, yeast, and time turn it into a stretchy, pliable clay to bend to my will.
I can never seem to make a round pizza. Somehow in the process of rolling out it becomes jagged, shaped like a cartoon SPLAT sound effect. Oh well. Pour some tomato sauce over it, unevenly spreading it with a spoon.
My third hand donated cheese clumps together when grated, but I dump it on top of the pizza in little spots anyway. It’s best if you can still taste the tomato.
Leftover meat sprinkled on top along with a probably excessive dose of seasonings, and then my fingers pinch the edges like a pie crust into a slightly more conventional shape. Into the 500 degree oven it goes.
Shit, the fire alarm. I fan absentmindedly at the alarm with my book in the other hand until I realize that I’ve gotten so sucked into the book that I forgot I was still fanning.
But it’s all a sensual, comforting ritual. Knead, shape, bake; read, laugh, analyze. I hope you’re lucky enough to have days filled with delicious food and compelling books.