Ahhh. English muffin pizzas. A tradition in my home, when I was a kid. My mom made them for me every lunch time, and when I would walk home from Lincoln Avenue Elementary, they'd be waiting. On my Flintstones plate. She took special care to scrape the "noogies" (burnt mozzarella) off the pan and put them alongside. Good times. (A side note: We must have had hours for lunch back then. How could I walk home, eat, and still have time to walk up to Krista's and play Pac-Man on the Atari before we headed back to school??!)
When Mom ate them herself, she got fancy. Drizzles of olive oil and sprinkles of Italian seasoning. Me, I always wanted them straight up. Plenty of cheese. Plenty of cheese means plenty of noogies!
Anyway, with a fresh green pepper from the garden, a bit of diced tomato, multigrain English muffins (none of that back then), and a little can of black olives from Schnucks, we were ready to build our pizzas.
Allen thought "build a pizza" meant "eat all the raw stuff off your pizza." Then, he thought it meant "make a pile of cheese on the chair." But he got into the spirit, no doubt, and he greatly enjoyed the finished product.
Emilyn went hardcore on the garlic. Daddy's three, of course, were works of art.
And mine? Straight up. Lots of cheese. On that very same Flintstones plate.
1 comment:
We had those, too, and I still love them! Maybe for Saturday night when you guys go to the wedding?
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