Pizza and Pet Therapy

Diversionary tactics of some sort were called for in the midst of the tension and uncertainty that shrouded the locked-down Wesleyan campus the day after the shooting that took the life of a fellow student. Sarah J.’s father, Andy, renowned in our family as the “Camp Counselor,” announced he was arriving to provide the sorely needed diversion. As a man who would happily consume pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner seven days a week, Andy declared that our mission was to find the best pizza in Connecticut!

As we prepared for the mission, Sarah W. placed a quick call to a friend in the French Quarter, because doesn’t everyone call New Orleans to get the name of the best pizza joint in Connecticut??!! Sarah’s source is a Wesleyan alum, so he knows his pizza and declared that we should head to Frank Pepe’s in New Haven. Eight adults, a sizable body pillow (hey, we only had seven seats) and one large wet dog piled into our well loved mini-van and we stealthily drove off campus under overcast skies toward Rt. 91. Otherwise known as “R” “T” 91 by Nicole, Andy’s trusty GPS guide with the sultry Australian accent, who led us more or less directly to our destination. (Those narrow one way streets are a bit tricky in the Little Italy ethnic enclave of New Haven.)

As we parked (somewhat illegally?) in the lot for Sally’s Apizzeria, Avi’s eyes lit up and I could tell he was entertaining thoughts of dining at Sally’s instead. Apparently there’s a never ending debate over who makes the best pizza – Sally’s or Pepe’s – but our taste of Sally’s would have to wait for another day. As it turns out, Sally’s is open for dinner only so we trooped to the opposite end of Wooster Street to devour Frank Pepe’s legendary “tomato pies.” We were fortunate to walk right in and sit right down. No lines, no waiting, which is not typical of your usual Pepe’s experience. A sign of the economic times or just three o’clock on an overcast Thursday afternoon??

A word of caution: don’t go to Pepe’s if you think you’d enjoy a salad, bread, pasta or any conceivable dish other than pizza. Frank Pepe’s sells pizza. Period. But as Sarah J.’s Dad is fond of saying, “You’re good at what you do a lot,” and Pepe’s “tomato pies” are worth the trip!

Our waitress informed us that a large pie serves three to four. Our party of eight decided to play it safe and up the ante. We ordered three large pies – a white clam pie that is Pepe’s signature dish, a plain cheese pie for the pizza purists at the table, and a half veggie special (onion, spinach, broccoli, pepper, mushroom) with half meat overload (bacon, sausage, pepperoni, salami) for the ultimate contradictory mix on a single pie.

The people who devoured the pies (l to r): Avi, Maggie, Katherine, Andy, Sarah J., Emily, Sarah W. and Dorothy (the photographer and guest blogger).

My personal favorite was the white clam pie - just crust, olive oil, oregano, grated cheese, chopped garlic, and fresh clams. Turns out that the clams are shucked on the premises and they are as fresh as it gets. The crust was amazing! Crispy with blackened bits from the intense heat of the coal-fired oven, yet chewy and neither too thick nor too thin.

Running a close second in my book was the plain cheese pizza, which is ordinarily my pizza of choice. Other hungry diners in our cozy booth groaned in ecstasy as they devoured blisteringly hot slices weighed down with so many toppings that keeping them all on the crust prior to getting a bite into one’s mouth was a serious challenge. But sometimes you just have to let a little cheese slide and step right back into the ring!

In the end, our waitress knew her stuff and we walked out of Pepe’s with three boxes of leftover slices and a few cheesy crusts for Roxie, who was waiting patiently for us in the car. Perfect, actually, since everyone was able to go home with supper or a late night snack already prepared!

With very full bellies, our Camp Counselor declared it was time to carry out the pet therapy portion of our mission. Nicole guided us across town to the Yale campus, where we thought we would easily find a park to walk off some of our pizza coma and toss the Frisbee for Roxie. In the end, we didn’t locate the elusive park before the raindrops began to dominate the scene, but we did manage to provide Roxie with a romp and the opportunity to pee on the Yale campus!

Mission accomplished!

Breakfast al Fresco

Sometimes a picture speaks 1,000 words. I know no other way to convey how pleasant my breakfast was!

The food: Scrambled eggs, blueberry pancakes, coffee from our new french press and some farmer's market maple syrup.

The People: The legs in jeans belong to Ms. Worby and the bare foot is mine!

Thor also joined us. Spring is certainly a time to be outside!

The Very Hungry Caterpillar: An Investigation

Awhile back, Xiaoxi and I had a little spat about this book, which apparently was not a part of her young life in China. A travesty, I say. She thinks otherwise. She thinks, in fact, that The Very Hungry Caterpillar is not a story. Her claim: All caterpillars are hungry. A caterpillar who eats through stuff and becomes a butterfly, therefore, is just a caterpillar, because that is what caterpillars do. In fact, she cried angrily, "That is NOT A STORY!"

This entry will not address the implications this might have for what defines a plot or what the necessary components of a story are. You can all decide that for yourself. My concern here is with just how hungry this caterpillar was. Was his hunger exceptional? Was he, in fact, very hungry, or was he simply doing what any old caterpillar would do to steel himself for two weeks of cocoon napping? (This entry also will not address the inaccuracy here: Eric Carle is aware of the fact that most caterpillars actually pupate in a chrysalis, not a cocoon. I refer you here for his explanations.)

According to my research, most caterpillars are herbivorous, and many chomp down only upon one species of plant. So yes, they eat leaves and not salami and ice cream, but how many leaves? Google (and Google Scholar) searches have yet to yield any helpful information regarding the quantity of food your average caterpillar consumes each day. I'm pretty disappointed, but apparently I have other work to do.

This begs another question, though: Should the book be retitled The Very Confused Caterpillar? Or The Caterpillar with an Exceptionally Sophisticated Palate? Come to think of it, the idea of a caterpillar eating salami is just weird. It makes me kind of uncomfortable. What is in salami anyway? A question for another day, I suppose.

So maybe Xiaoxi wins. Maybe this caterpillar, though his taste in food was rather strange considering his species, was not all that hungry. After all, as someone pointed out to me, he didn't eat EVERYTHING--he just ate HOLES in everything. He being so small and all. How does one even calculate the sustenance derived from a hole in an apple, a hole in an ice cream, a hole in a salami... clearly, the research I intended to do here was a bit over my head. I'm an English major, not a caterpillar expert, and I certainly don't have the time before graduation to follow a caterpillar around all day and see how much it eats.

Instead, I will leave you with three interesting and well-researched facts.*

1) The original title of the book was A Week With Willi Worm. Nothing to do with hunger! And also, probably, no plot.

2) The author was inspired by a hole puncher. He explains: "One day I was punching holes with a hole puncher into a stack of paper, and I thought of a bookworm and so I created a story called 'A Week with Willi the Worm'. Then my editor suggested a caterpillar instead and I said 'Butterfly!' That's how it began."

Aha! Maybe, then, all this hunger stuff is just a misread metaphor. The caterpillar is a bookworm! It's not really lollipops and Swiss cheese that he wants. He is hungry for Lit-tra-ture! That must be it.**

...and finally, and perhaps most importantly (though in no way related to the rest of the content of this post):
3) In 1999, the talented reader George W. Bush called the The Very Hungry Caterpillar one of his childhood favorites. Which is sweet, really, until you consider that he was 23 years old when the book came out. Who am I to judge? Far be it from me to determine when Mr. Bush's childhood ended, if ever it did.

And now we're all hungry and distraught, but full of food... for thought! HAH! Oh god I'm sorry. I'm going to go eat a hole and then crawl in it now.


*from the book's Wikipedia page, obviously
**I told you I'm an English major. Deal with it.

Macaroni a la Fondue and some grilled stuff

The Food:
Tonight we had a very simple dinner that was much like the ones we used to eat when we all lived at home. The only twist is that this was the culinary adventurous version because me and my brothers can't seem to get enough of cooking. Instead of Annie's, we made homemade macaroni that was inspired by the classic ingredients of Swiss Fondue. In lieu of steaming, we grilled the asparagus to ensure a nice caramelization on the outside. For the flat iron steak, we stayed simple. I am always a no-frills person when it comes to meat. Rob brushed it with a bit olive oil , and then sprinkled it with a red pepper blend. It was absolutely delicious!
The fondue macaroni was something I improvised on the spot, loosely based on a couple of recipes from the food network website. It ended up being very good, something I would definitely do again. Here is the recipe, in case you want to try it.
1) Cook whatever shape pasta you want (I used elbow) according to the package directions. I used a full pound box - I was feeling hungry and you can't beat macaroni leftovers.
2) While the pasta cooks, heat 2 tablespoons of butter in a medium saucepan, over medium heat. When it is nice and warm, I put in about a handful of flour to form a roux. At this stage, constant whisking is imperative! Stir the roux around to allow the taste of the flour to mellow out while keeping it from burning. I did this for about 2 minutes.
3) Start stirring in little bits of milk at a time. I used whole, raw milk, but I suppose that other types would do the trick. To get the richness that made the dish so good, I would hesitate to use a milk that wasn't at least 2% milk fat. I didn't do any measuring, but I thinned it out until it was about the consistency of cake batter. To this I added a half a cup of chardonnay.

4) Into this went the grated cheese. I did about 6 ounces of Gruyere, 4 ounces of sharp cheddar, and 2 ounces of freshly grated Parmesan. Stir until melted, adding more liquid if it seems too thick. Then season with nutmeg (freshly ground if possible), lemon zest, white pepper, salt and ground mustard. I didn't measure, so go forth and experiment to taste!
5) When the pasta is done, drain it and put it into a greased casserole dish. Pour the cheese sauce over the pasta and mix it in well. Sprinkle breadcrumbs on top (we had the bottom of a bag of potato chips left so those also got crumbled and put on top - it added a nice saltiness) and then drizzle with a bit of melted butter.
6) Put under the broiler and cook until the top is crispy and browned.

The Creatures that wished they ate it:
Marley, Misty, and in front, Ziggy!