Pizza pizza

Picture this: I am 10 years old.  Hair past my shoulders, chubby, bone necklace.  Peacocks roaming the hippy school I go to.  It is a muggy Friday afternoon which means one thing: Pizza Day.  For some horrible reason though, the powers that be decided that since little (but still big) Rio was a vegan, his favorite toppings must be: black olives, tomato sauce and PINEAPPLE. How that school stayed open after this clear violation of the whole "don't physically and emotionally abuse your students" thing, I have no idea.

Fast forward 11 years, I am a little taller, a little less chubby, but just as obsessed with food as always.  I have now seen that the world of pizza is so much bigger than those horrible pineapple abominations from Dominoes.  I find myself in the pizza capital of the world, Italy, with a free day and an opportunity to learn how to make the real deal from someone who spends every day making pizza! How that is a real job, I will never know.

I also never knew it could possibly be so complicated. Do you realize the amount of measuring, kneading, and just waiting around, waiting for the dough to rise goes in to each slice? I didn't.  Thankfully my teacher, Antonio at Ristorante Totò, was incredibly patient.  Shoutout to Airbnb for setting this experience up, I will now never have to eat at Dominoes again.