I graduated from the Chef Boyardee school of pizza making.

                                               
You work with what you got.
In my early days of learning to cook, improvisation was the key.  If you do not have the correct items as specified on a recipe, then improvise.  Right?
Well I would try to come close to the recipe as possible.  That was my mantra as a 12-year-old.  Never mind missing key components that could alter a recipe drastically.  If you are making a hot fudge sundae and have no ice cream then improvise with cold mashed potatoes.  Right?
But anyway we Ayers’s  had gotten off on these boxed Chef Boyardee food cooking kits.  One of our favorite boxed kits was one to make pizza.  I love pizza.  We ate these things long before we had gone to a local pizza joint.  We had no Shakey’s nor any Pizza Hut.  Just boxed kits from Chef Boyardee.
In the box was a packet of yeast, flour, grated cheese, and some red pizza sauce.  Everything one would possibly need to make an appetizing pizza.  The pizza dough, the cheese, and sauce was spread on a rectangular cookie sheet.
But the downside is I was limited in what goes on a pizza.  Do I use lettuce or carrots or what?  I noticed when my older sister made one of these things it had chopped green stuff on top.  Not sure what it was. 
So I found some green stuff in the fridge, chopped it up, and sprinkled it all over the pizza sauce.  Then I placed it in the oven at the right temperature and set the timer to the right cooking time.
As soon as I took it from the oven my  youngest sister came in the kitchen and exclaimed, wow, pizza with chopped green bell peppers.  Let’s cut a piece and eat it.  So we did and I didn’t tell my sister the green stuff was a big sour dill pickle.  Surprise!
Well, it looked good to me.  Really didn’t taste bad.  Nor did it taste good.  But we did eat the darn thing.  Nex time I might try green beans instead.
 
 

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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