Farmer H and the #1 son are away from the Mansion for the evening. With formal meal preparation off the table, The Pony and I decided to partake of DiGiorno Pizza. Let the record show that if The Pony had his druthers, he would consume the square Garlic Bread Cheese Pizza. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, however, is partial to the round Rising Crust Supreme. And because the hand that bakes the pizza rules the world, we had the Supreme.
Note to Self: Do not share a pizza with The Pony.
For starters, I had to remove everything but cheese from The Pony's side of the pizza. Do you know how difficult that is? First of all, that stuff is frozen. So it has to be pried out of the solid sauce. Of which DiGiorno could save a couple million bucks by decreasing, as I don't enjoy a saucy pizza. I excavated onions, red peppers, green peppers, sausage pellets, and black olives. That's AFTER all pepperonis were dispatched. They are pure evil, and I will not suffer a pepperoni to enter my gullet.
It has been so long since I had a DiGiorno, an entire year, perhaps, that I forgot to cook it on my special holey pizza pan. The Pony likes a soft crust. So when he has his Garlic Bread Cheese Pizza every couple of weeks, I use a regular pizza pan. Like tonight. The results were less than stellar.
The minute the cheese starts to blister, the pizza must be removed. The Pony is finicky like that. He puts Morris the Cat to shame. No Mikey, he'll eat anything is he. When I sliced the pizza with my giant butcher knife, a product of Farmer H's affiliates, a knife that strikes fear into blind mice on seven continents, I knew that something was amiss.
The Pony's slices came out just fine. Tailored to his tastes. Mine were as diametrically opposed to my desires as the #1 son is to my views on in-Mansion child labor. Rather than the cracker-like hard crust that I prefer, the rock-hard edge crust that eats like a Snyder's of Hanover packaged pretzel, I found crust as tender as a Pillsbury Flaky Layers Biscuit. Floppy crust. Limp. As I attempted to transfer them from pan to plate, my toppings poured over the edge like valuable gold nuggets in a clogged-up wash pan belonging to those crazy meth-looking miners led by Todd Hoffman on TLC's Gold Rush.
Do not share a pizza with The Pony.