What’s Your Favorite Food Memory?
My mom makes a mean pizza. The fact that it’s nearly unrecognizable as pizza does not in the least take away from its standing in my mind.
First, it’s a true pie, with a thin, doughy base and a tall thick lip of crust holding in the filling. This filling, ostensibly tomato sauce but more accurately termed vegetable stew, could be a meal in itself.
When I was growing up, her signature healthy (and therefore yucky) additions were shredded zucchini and—when my father, sister and I weren’t looking—mashed tofu. I think she distracted us by letting us shred the cheese.
