I swear, I just stuck my head in the door to see what's up. "Oh, pizza? Seems right for Sunday afternoon." So I ordered the pizza, and while I waited, a cup of minestrone. Enjoyed the soup outside in the sun; the broth was hearty and spiked with oregano, the beans and pasta and tomato and onions and celery and carrots, well, it was more a stew than a soup. I basically inhaled that, then back inside in time to see the pizza go into the oven. Nice chitchat with John and Donna about many things, especially how they cook their chickens, which were going to be available starting at 4 PM, bummer for me.
Pizza came out, John sliced it, and at my request left the box unsealed, so the crust wouldn't get steamed on the way home. Upon arrival we had a classic simple margherita, just crust and cheese and basil and slices of plum tomato thickly studded on the pie, and still plenty hot enough. The crust was perfect at the edges, both chewy and crispy; I wished for a little more body in the center of the pie, as it could not be picked up until at least half was eaten with a fork. But the cheese was milky rich, and the tomatoes were juicy and had the garden in their flavor, and the basil relieved the fat and oil that make pizza, pizza. We very rapidly disposed of all but two slices, which I view with pleasure as I type this.
Somehow, I also came away with a bitter chocolate mousse cake. This item had a light souffle-like texture, but such an intense chocolate flavor that one normal person would have struggled to finish it. Good that I had help. Those triple-chocolate cookies were there, but somehow I resisted them. And the fresh blueberry pie. And the strombolis, which came out of the oven as I was paying up. Basically, I ran out of cash. Dammit, rw.
1585 Solano Ave. (across from Solano Cellars.),