Last night Greg and I made pizza on the grill for the first time. Using our new pizza stone.
I usually bake my pizza on a paper bag in the oven (probably not a good idea on the grill) but I'm always open to new ways of cooking and I had added this particular stone to our wedding registry because it's supposed to cook well on the grill.
But because I didn't want to go to the store, I also stayed with ingredients we had: a gluten-free pizza crust that we had tried before (not because we're gluten-free eaters but I had wanted to see how good it tasted), a pasta sauce Greg had made last week with zucchini and squash in it (not my favorite vegetables but, again, it as about using up what we had), and fresh mozzarella cheese that we've been keeping on hand for our extensive supply of ripe tomatoes. I added oregano because I don't know a pizza that tastes good without it thanks to my mom.
This wasn't something I did by myself. Greg took care of the grill while I prepped the pizza. And then he pulled off the pizza when it was ready.
It wasn't until later that I realized how much of a joint effort it had been to make the pizza. Making meals in our house is typical done by both of us, each having skills to contribute but also both of us wanting to learn and eat new things.
Next on the list is making chilaquiles, essentially eggs, red chile, and corn tortillas. We're having the neighbors over for dinner in two weeks and we thought we'd make them once before since neither of us has done it before.
On Friday I happened to find a covered raised silver serving tray with a glass pyrex dish inside it at an estate sale.
"I thought we could use it when we have people over," I told Greg as he raised the lid to look instead.
"For when we make casseroles," he added, approvingly.
Yesterday after we were discussing when we would make the test round of chilaquiles he said, "I guess I need to polish the silver then."
Like I said, it's all a joint effort. And totally worth it that way.