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Bread Pizza

June 9, 2011

Pizza Friday came early this week. We had French Bread Pizza. My original intent was to buy some french bread and make the pizzas. The kids like adding their own toppings and all the cheese and sauce that they want (or don’t want). In the end the week got really busy and I decided to serve them French Bread Pizza just like Mom used to make – frozen and heated in the microwave.

I haven’t bought these frozen french bread pizza in ages (or possibly ever on my nickel), but for a couple of years when I was a teenager I think a good quarter of my diet was pizza. The Stouffer’s French Bread Pizza was a staple in our house. At the time I think it was a new concept and it worked well because it had a crispy crust if you took the time to bake them in the oven. We didn’t have any of the fancy “rising crust” pizzas that almost everyone makes today (and we liked it that way, now get off my lawn!). Pulling the little pizza’s out of the box was very nostalgic for me and it was pretty much the same experience as 20+ years ago. All of the pepperoni was piled at one end of the packaging and you have to redistribute it. Sometimes you will get one that is still too frozen and eat a half cheese/half pepperoni pizza. The one new thing is that they include a cardboard tray with reflective material to help crisp the bread in the microwave, but the crispness seemed about the same to me.

The kids were less than impressed. Sarah thought it was too greasy and that they had “a lot of sauce.”  However, everyone ate an individual French Bread Pizza. Even Melanie ate one because they have one that is just cheese bread. From a making-sure-everyone-gets-something-to-eat perspective it was a success. As for me, I enjoyed mine so much that I ate two of them. For a frozen pizza it was pretty delicious.

Damn Interesting Quote of the Day: I spent the time chatting with the scarecrow.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 11, 2011 7:53 am

    i don’t think i had pizza, ever, until i was in my 20s. my dad didn’t approve of “fast foods,” which meant that my poor mother starting cooking every afternoon around 3 p.m. in order to put a gourmet meal for 12 on the table by 7 that night.

    no shortcuts. is it any wonder that when she turned 80 she said, “NO MORE COOKING.”?

    • June 11, 2011 11:00 am

      I don’t think I’m going to make it to 80 before I cry ‘No Mas’

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