pizza pizza

Last night our friends Kristen and Jason came over for an evening of feasting, Rick Warren's interviews with the candidates (boo, grr), and a game of Balderdash (did you know there's a veterinarian in England who founded a sanctuary for alcoholic donkeys?).

We are each other's guinea pigs for new recipes (luckily they always turn out well). Last night we decided to share a few varieties of Ian's latest culinary obsession: pizza. It's the best we've had here, aside from those made by renowned brick-oven joints like Lombardi's, Grimaldi's, and John's on Bleecker (the original, not the horrible facsimile in Times Square -- the scourge of Manhattan). Maybe when Ian has scored a book deal and I've worked my way farther up the ladder of journalism, we'll invest in a brick oven for our massive cook's kitchen (to come). For now, though, we'll "settle" for Ian's pizza, with its crispy olive-oil crust, bold tomato sauce, and gooey fresh mozzarella melted over the top, baked in our lopsided oven which I think is older than either of us. The one pictured below was covered with pepperoni and fresh basil and we also enjoyed a garlic and tomato one.

Not to be outdone, I made Sublime Lime Pie, an addictive recipe I first tasted at Cliffes' house (which I think was first made by Grandma Zahnle). I love it because it's citrusy without having that notorious bathroom-cleaner flavor some Key lime pies do. While it was baking, the top started to get brown prematurely, so I covered it loosely with aluminum foil. It did keep the top from getting any darker, but the two got stuck together when I was pulling it out of the oven and half the filling came off with the foil. Thanks to whipped cream (miraculous in both flavor and function), nobody was ever the wiser (until now...).

If you'd like either of these recipes, please ask. I have to make sure neither is a closely guarded secret, the dissemination of which is punishable by death.