How NOT to Cook Pizza

I had all the ingredients on the pizza--sauce, a tad of sugar, onion & garlic powder, fat free cheese, dehydrated onion and garlic, ham, and low fat mozerella--and then I opened the stove I had turned on ten minutes before. Cold.

We had a pilot light, but no bar of lovely blue flame. Since the oven is the same olive green color as the stove hood and matches the walls, I'm guessing it's about as old as this 1978 trailer. I shouldn't have been surprised with everything else falling apart in the house, but still, I had to make pizza. I reluctantly decided on the grill.

In the pouring rain, I fought to put two pizza pans side by side on the tin foil I'd place inside to gaurd the bottom of the pans. I forgot one thing. To turn down or off the burners directly underneath the pizza. By the time I returned to the grill, a charcoal aroma rolled out of the hood.

The top looked lovely, but sure enough, the underside was burnt beyond recognition. In ten short minutes we miraculously went from ham pizza to ham and carbon pizza.


What to do?

First I tried to scrape off the burnt backing. It sort of worked, only it made a mess all over and became part of the melted cheese. Tasted like we'd gone camping with primative equipment.

IJ decided to eat it as is, but after the first pieced decided maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Two more scraped pieces later, he felt like yacking.

Our second option was probably the most obvious: scrape off the top. By that point we all were beginning to feel ill.

That led us to our third option:



The trash.

We emptied it last night to find this in the morning:


Even wild animals wouldn't eat it!

The moral of the story? Never live in an old trailer with old appliances and actually expect to cook your own pizza.