Salad Bar Pizza
Although I'm blogging about a great pie, I'm actually still having that real food discussion, the one that got started on this blog the other day (at this spot and this one).
I've been thinking about it a lot. Pondering what's real and what's not. And trying to come to terms with why I see the high-falutin' pretension of so much of the current foodie world--let them eat grass-fed cake--so darn overbearing, so silly.
Yes, Bruce and I are real-food mavens. Yes, we do such crazy things as buying our beef from a local farm (see it here), our pork from our local CSA (see it here), and our eggs from several little roadside stands near us. Bruce spends most of the summer canning. Witness how many jams and pickles have appeared on this blog.
But then there's the silly stuff, the macho stuff: making your own sauerkraut, killing a wild hog, and showing the world your chest hair. Or the Earth Mother stuff: wearing your Birkenstocks, nurturing your own vinegar, and cultivating your whole-grain pantry. Neither is a real answer to the food dilemmas strafing the developed world.
Here's one of my answers: a real-food pizza that's not a make-it-yourself. Everything here is from the store. Everything here COULD be made at home--if someone had the time. But in the end, everything here is good and real, nothing fake, no chemical chicanery, no excess fat or sugar to mask half-hearted flavors. Just delicious.





















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