In lieu (luau?) of a vacation of any kind for the past two years, Ben and I planned a Hawaiian day at home. None of us have ever been to Hawaii, but we imagine a tropical pig-centric paradise. If you have been there, and you were not feted with a pig roasting on a spit at every turn, please don’t tell us. (Speaking of spit-roasted pigs… I graded an assignment today on what students learned about the Aztecs. One student reported that Aztecs ate pigs roasted on spit. I guess tomorrow would be a good time to review the use of articles and multiple-meaning words!)
When I brought up the possibility of Hawaiian pizza for Ben’s Day Wednesday, Ben readily hopped on board. I didn’t know he was bringing the full power of Curious George to the party. Apparently, we should all be drinking out of coconuts. We had many hurdles to clear in our luau quest, and our meal was only semi-planned. The grocery list was forgotten on the trip to the store, and there was a blender “situation”, so it was a Honolulu improv.
Not everyone stocks tiny paper drink umbrellas. We do. Problem solved. Not everyone stocks coconuts as drinking vessels. We don’t. Sorry.
I put on a very loud Hawaiian skirt and a lei, we cracked out the record player, and listened to Hawaiian music from the 60s while we made Hawaiian pizza and mango smoothies. It was a full day, people.
I won’t get into the nitty-gritty of the blender incident, but Ben suggested that we “Call the cops on Phil. They’ll pick him up.” I assured him that the second blender offense within a 48-hour period, while enraging, still fell short of involving officers of the law, but Ben wasn’t having it. There was a tongue-lashing.
I guess I should have foreseen the trouble, as, Hawaiian pizza, in my experience, is an acrimonious food with garbled origins. First, it isn’t even Hawaiian. It’s Canadian. Though I have not made it before, I think the last time I ate it was in Guatemala, in 1989, when Phil and I were traveling. We are frugal travelers, (shocker, I know), but after eating, basically, the same thing for every meal for a month, we decided to splurge on a hip, new, expensive pizzeria in Antigua, called Pacos (which we called Paco’s Tacos because it sounded better). We had Hawaiian pizza, and it was delicious. We went back the next night and ordered exactly the same thing. For some reason, over dinner the second night, we got into an argument over something vitally important. It was one person’s contention that the British are snooty. The other vehemently argued that having a large and diverse vocabulary does not, automatically, make one snooty. We never actually worked it out, so the fact that this week’s meal brought out blender bickering is not all that surprising.
I am pleased to report, however, that Hawaiian pizza is still delicious. Whether this Canadian food in an Italian vessel is consumed in Guatemala or Pennsylvania, in a taco restaurant or a back yard, with coconuts or without, it is pretty good.
We used the pizza dough recipe that you’ll find in the index (under taco pizza). Our sauce was a small can of tomato sauce with a couple tablespoons of BBQ sauce mixed in, and a couple shakes of garlic powder, onion powder, and salt. Our toppings were fresh pineapple, ham, bacon, sautéed onion, and shredded mozzarella cheese.
and fewer heated exchanges about blenders and the British. And, in case you are debating how to prepare your pig… it should be roasted on a spit, not roasted on spit.