My Pizza, Not Your Pizza, and Polite Company

My husband just called me on the phone a few minutes ago to say that I’ve been invited to partake in pizza tonight at work with a couple of other spousal units and their husbands. (You ever notice that late work nights minus overtime can be spun into working dinners when people are invited in for food? I think my Jewish father came up with the scenario. “Feed their wives and they will hurt you ever slightly less for your late hours.”)

I asked my husband if I could bring my own cauliflower crust recipe to the pizza feast. He sighed, because he claims he remembered the oopsie roll burger incident in the Red Robin.

I have no such recollected moment of such an event as having taken place in that said restaurant particularly as described.


That said, I’m taking one of the cauliflower ones I’ll have made, and I am going to sit and lavishly eat it. In front of everyone. Slowly. And with extreme prejudice. Like in those slow-motion ads, only I’ll only be humming the music in my head, and not out loud like last time.

And then I’m going to look at people while they have their pizza on their plates, smiling and visiting politely over dinner.

And I’m going to say very softly while I’m looking at my pizza, “My pizza is better than your pizza.”

And then I’ll look at someone else and say, “Mine’s better than yours,” and I’ll take a bite and chew slowly.
And I’m going to take another bite and smile reallly big like this. With eyes squinted in ecstasy, I’m going to look at someone else and mouth, “Mine… better… yours…” Then point to my pizza. Then point to their pizza. Then to mine. Then to theirs. Mine. Theirs. Miiiine… better.

I’ll look over to the person to the right of me. I’ll smile in an inviting and socially approachable way, and then motion towards them with a hand brandishing a Virgin piece of pizza. I’ll say, “Would you like a bite of this? It is really good.”

And I’ll lean over like I’m going to put that piece right in their mouth, all sweet and warm.

And then, as his or her mouth parts in anticipation, I’ll slowly crane the pizza in a large, slow circle back to me and say, “But ohhhh no. This is mah pizza.” And then I’ll take a bite and chew it very slowly in front of that person. “Mahhhh pizza!”

Do you think this could create some awkward social moments?

It’s not like I make bionic noises when I move the pizza in slow motion. Anymore.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email


  1. Thanks for the pizza crust recipe! I tried it last night and we loved the flavor but I didn’t get the ratio of cauliflower to cheese right, it couldn’t be hand held. Any chance you could let me know the weight of the ingredients? I probably need the raw and cooked weight of the cauliflower as well as the shredded cheese. I look forward to trying it again. Melinda

  2. Thank you for the kind words, Melinda!

    As for weight of the ingredients, I did weigh them for the lasagna… let me go get those weights… brb!

    *playing elevator musak*

    1 cup (about 5 ounces) cooked cauliflower, grated, riced or shredded. Cooked or raw, you’re looking at 5-6 ounces of cauliflower, as a 16 ounce bag makes 3 cups of riced/processed cauliflower by my measuring.

    2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese (6 ounces) (one ounce is for the crust, and I figured another for the topping)

    1 egg

  3. woo hoo for you glad to see nothing is going to derail you this time 🙂

    so where is the follow up post with the how it went, who you had to hurt cause they tried to steal your pizza, etc.

  4. You’re right! The pizza angle is absolutely covered now!

    There’s no risk of overeating the stuff, either. Like the oopsies, it’s pretty self-limiting.

    I ended up taking lasagna last night instead of making a new pizza. No one in my house wanted chorizo on their lasagna (my heart BLEEDS for them), so I decided to finish the “L” instead.

    Unfortunately, it’s difficult to hold out forks filled with lasagna without it falling on the carpet and angering the managerial staff.

    I’ll have to save those flights of fancy for another day… and linoleum.

    (I did send my intentions to a friend who was there, and she laughed.)

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.