Friday night at our house is pizza night.
It's not that I don't love to cook. I do. I really do. But sometimes, it's just better to order out. And it's not that I can't make my own pizza either. I have tried many ways of making my own pizza, some more successful than others. I've made my own fresh dough. I've used frozen raw dough. I've made pizza on naan bread. I've made pizza on tortillas. I've used foccacia and cibatta bread. Once I even made pizza on rosemary and sea salt turkish bread.
I've topped my own pizza with goat cheese and fresh buffalo mozzarella. I've grated romano, and parmigiano (and even that rock-hard, super-amazing-super-strong cheese my Zia smuggles back from Montefalcone) to sprinkle on top.
I've used my own homemade tomato sauce and sometimes I've gone sauceless and made olive oil and garlic pizza.
But sometimes, like on Friday night, after a long week, it's just better to order out.
When I order out I prefer thin crust pizza. The floppy kind. The kind that you can't really hold in one hand. The kind that if you're not careful all the toppings will slide right off. For the last 50 years, my Uncles have owned the best pizza restaurant in my home town. For me, it's the gold standard for pizza. I've never been able to find pizza quite as good, and believe me, I've tried. I lived in Toronto for 12 years and searched high and low. The closest I came was a family owned pizzeria on Oakwood Ave near our old apartment. Whenever I go home, I try my best to find a way to squeeze in one of my Uncles' pizzas. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
I can't get Capri pizza here, but we are on the hunt for the perfect pizza in Oakville. I'll keep you posted.
Note: The photos in this post are not my own, but are courtesy of a Google image search and better photographers and chefs than I.