Sunday, December 11, 2016

I Wouldn't Actually Term It "Galore"

The two current residents of the Mansion never met a pizza they didn't like. That includes Imo's Pizza. Perhaps you've heard of it. The Square Beyond Compare. Maybe it's a regional thing. It's very thin, with a special cheese made just for their restaurant chain. You either like it, or you don't. Mrs. Not-A-Cook who taught down the hall from me for many years called it, "Velveeta on a cracker." What did she know, anyway. She certainly wasn't a cook.

Anyhoo...that's not the pizza I'm talking about here. We are dissecting Casey's Pizza today. I know blog buddy Kathy has eaten a Casey's pizza or two. Not all at once, of course. It's good pizza from a convenience store. The crust is doughy and they pile on the cheese. Every month, they have a special. This month it happens to be a specialty pizza. The price is still not all that bargainy. But for what you get, I don't begrudge them their fee.

Farmer H luuurrrrves himself some Meat Galore pizza from Casey's. The other day when I asked if I could pick him up something while I was in town, and mentioned a Personal Pan from Pizza Hut, he declined. But his eyes lit up and he said, "Maybe on the weekend we can have Casey's. We haven't had that in a while." Let the record show that he was just coming off his sickness, stuffing himself with antibiotics and steroids, and was probably regaining his appetite. The one he didn't have until he ate two days worth of leftovers brought back from lunch with my favorite gambling aunt.

So...last evening he went to town to "look at your Christmas present" (am I wrong to be apprehensive about that?) and picked up the pizza on his way home. He always goes in the store to order it, then waits. Can't call it in. I don't know why that is. Probably like my dad, who couldn't order at a drive-thru speaker, but instead had my mom lean across the seat and do it for him. Men.

The problem with Mrs. HM and a Meat Galore is that Mrs. HM does not like pepperoni. So Farmer H has to order half of it without pepperoni. Sometimes he tells them to put all the pepperoni on one side. He had a gal in Casey's that will do that for him. Probably the one who was going to get him the job at the unmarked storefront pharmacy as a delivery driver. Anyhoo...she wasn't working. So Farmer H told another girl that he needed half of that Meat Galore without pepperoni on it.

I opened the box when he got it home, and I couldn't see pepperoni anywhere. That's not a good thing. It only means that it was buried, somewhere there on the pizza, like those red pennant flags that kids used to have to find buried in sloppy muck (as opposed to neat muck) during the final competition on Double Dare.

Casey's builds their pizza with crust, sauce, flat meats, cheese, then sprinkle meats. In places, I could see the curved edges of Canadian bacon. But not pepperoni.

"How am I supposed to know which half has no pepperoni?"

"I don't know! The other gal puts it on top for me. So we can see it. This one didn't, I guess."

"Well, when I look at it, I can definitely tell one half is different from the other. LOOK! That half is twice as tall. And this one looks like just crust, sauce, and a little sprinkle of cheese, with some sausage clumps."

"Yeah. That must be YOUR half."

"I'm sure it is. It's basically just crust and sauce, really. So I'm sure that part is MINE."

Let the record show that because my half of the Casey's Meat Galore was so bereft of topping, I took THREE pieces instead of the two I had planned. And I probably still am malnourished from that serving. At least I didn't take six pieces. Which I could easily have eaten. But chose wisely not to.

Also let the record show that I DID find a piece of pepperoni hiding out on my portion. I knew when I bit into it. I put it on the plate. It was about the size of a toenail clipping. Not as big as the one we found in my grandma's braided rug that she gave us. And by WE I mean ME, with my bare foot, being gouged when sliding my foot on it as I sat down on the couch.

I assume Farmer H feasted on a thick strata of pepperoni and Canadian bacon and many meats, under a thick blanket of cheese. I hope he enjoyed it.

But not so much that he also took my other three pieces of skinny pizza.

5 comments:

Sioux said...

Pizza at our house is feast or lose it. If you don't eat it at dinner, it disappears in the middle of the night.

fishducky said...

It's been too long since I had pizza; I need some from ANYWHERE!!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
Huh. There must be something like Sasquatch on the loose in your neighborhood. Or house.

***
fishducky,
Dang it! If I'd known that, I would have sent you the 4 pieces that were left over! Instead, I gave Farmer H permission to devour them the next night. He didn't have to be told twice.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

HeWho knows a pizza maker or two at our Casey's, all depends on who you know! He can even get a thinner crust!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Kathy,
I think Farmer H knows that gal so well because he sneaks in there at least once a week for donuts. Donuts not on his Type 2 recommended diet! I know, because The Pony has ratted him out before, and I've found the icing on T-Hoe's steering wheel after Farmer H drove him.

Our crust is just right. Goldilocks herself would be satisfied. The Pony LOVES the crust, but doesn't like the pizza. Too much cheese for him. He's a sauce kind of guy. He does enjoy the cheesy breadsticks, though.