Fat Round Things

Yes, I am a little tired. Why do you ask?

Boy howdy, I do believe this child is going to sleep well tonight, that's what. It's been a really busy day, including a hike up to the market so I could pick up some more butter and replenish my cheddar cheese supply. It wasn't until I got back that I realized I'd forgotten the treat I'd promised myself. After a week of overcast and occasional drizzle, today turned out so gorgeous I was going to sit at the little picnic table beside the market and indulge myself in a decadent ice cream cone -- a waffle cone, to be specific. Dayum.

Ah well. Something to look forward to on another sunny day, I guess. Besides, my culinary project for the day turned out rather well so I can't really complain. Okay, I can really complain but my heart isn't in it.

See those fat round things just below this paragraph? Those are sorta kinda mini-foccacias. Or should that be "focaccia?" Because I keep finding it spelled both ways. [Pause for Google search.] Okay, according to Merriam-Webster, it's focaccia. Fo-caw-che-ah. Of course. I knew that. I just forgot I knew it.

Anyhoo, what I did was whomp up a batch of pizza dough and seasoned it with good stuff like cumin and oregano and lemon dill. Then, after it did its rise gig, I divided it up into 8 balls and patted them out into more or less round shapes. Some of them were of the free-form persuasion but I didn't see any reason to discourage their individuality so I let 'em hang it all out. Not owning a dandy gadget like a dough docker, I forked the daylights out of them so they wouldn't rise up too terribly much in the middle. That's because they're slated to serve as fatso pizzas when I'm in the mood for a fatso pizza. I could have rolled them out really thin. Some folks like a thin, crispy crust. I happen to like a fat, chewy crust that lends itself to dipping in whatever looks tasty.

I cooked them at 375 degrees fairyheight for 10 minutes, then brushed them with olive oil when they came out of the oven. When they have completely cooled, I'll slip them in Ziploc bags and toss them in the freezer. Then, when I'm in the mood for a quick and tasty meal, I'll pull one out, top it with whatever happens to be handy and slide it into a 400 degree oven for another 10 or 15 minutes. Shazaam!

For those of you who counted the mini-focaccias on the platter and came up short a deuce, I can assure you there really were 8 of them a little while ago. The thing is, by the time they were all baked, I was so outrageously hungry I could have eaten a horse and chased the rider with a fork. I had planned to make a nice little batch of garlicky white sauce for a pizza base but my tummy didn't even want to wait for that. I just minced up some ham, slapped on a couple of slices of mozzerella and cooked those bad boys before I fainted. The one you see below is now residing in my pacified tummy. The other one is waiting for my midnight snack urge, should it happen to rear its head tonight. If I end up impersonating my feline friend above, then I can count on having a tasty breakfast. Sounds like a win-win to me.