It began with pizza.

All good things start "It began with pizza..."

It doesn't even matter what kind of pizza. Because pizza is one of those miracle things that tastes delicious no matter the quality. I remember eating Pizza at Roy Gayle baseball park in Rockford, Illinois. You know, the kind that's rectangular, microwaved, and adorned with square bits of cheese that defy categorization? Man, was that heaven. Throw in a pickle the size of my head and a skipping I will go. 

That being said, I admit I'm still a tough pizza critic. I get it from my dad (and, I suppose, my mom as well). I'll gladly eat it all, but I'll praise only a lucky few pies. 

A good way to guarantee satisfaction? Make it yourself (with store-bought dough from the local italian market). Mine involves red pepper, onion, spinach, broccoli rabe, and BBQ chicken. My apologies for the crappy iphone photo job.

And for dessert? Crepes with a fluffy ricotta-orange filling, drizzled with chocolate. These crepes lived to see day two. With the leftover batter, I made some that were more Zak's taste... peanut butter, chocolate, and banana. You really can't lose with either. 

Oh what I would give to revisit this dinner in place of the triscuits, cheese, and hot dog I ate tonight...